Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Lying to myself is even more dangerous than lying to Law and everyone around me, because if I want to believe it hard enough, I can convince myself I’m fine and don’t need any help.
I might be pushing myself into something I’m not ready for, and I might be freaking out a little, but I can do this.
Then again, am I lying to myself even more by thinking there’s a light at the end of this tunnel?
Denial is a powerful thing.
* * *
The flat line of my therapist’s lips says everything I need to know, but she lectures me anyway. “I’m concerned.”
I snort and try to refrain from saying “No shit.”
“Have you told Brody about your past?”
“No. Why would he need to know?”
“What happens if you have an episode? What if you have a nightmare? It’s important for people in your life to know what to do in such a situation. Especially someone who you live with. Your home needs to feel like a safe environment.”
“I haven’t had a panic attack in months. Not one I haven’t been able to pull myself out of, anyway.”
“This is a big step, Anderson.”
“It’s something I wasn’t planning on doing, but my options were limited, and this came up, so I took it. Shouldn’t that be a good thing? That instead of depending on my brother, I’ve done something that scares the shit out of me? Breakthrough, right?” My tone is too upbeat, and I’m sure Karen can see right through it. She has treated me for too long not to know my tells.
“It’s fast. And from our past sessions, when you’ve mentioned Brody, you’ve expressed conflicting opinions about him. He’s intimidating to you, which could be a trigger.”
“He’s a good guy.” I truly believe that in my heart. It’s my head that keeps telling me he’s dangerous. I’m nervous a switch could flip with him too and he could try to kill me at the drop of a hat. That’s part of it. But he’s mostly dangerous because he makes me push myself—or, the idea of him makes me push myself.
“You’re attracted to him,” Karen accuses.
“And?” I shrug nonchalantly. “We both know there’s no way I’m going to act on it.”
I can’t act on it. My body won’t let me. Meaningless hook-ups with skinny eighteen-year-olds I can handle, because I could easily overpower them if I had to. Brody is taller and wider than me.
“You’re jumping a few steps,” Karen says. “We still need to deal with handling your triggers before we can go to exposure therapy, and from what you’ve told me, Brody is a massive trigger.”
“So is being on my own. Which am I supposed to pick? At least this way, I’m taking steps forwards, right? You always tell me I’m too stuck in my comfort zones. I seek out comfort everywhere I go. The one time I step out of it, you tell me I’m going too fast.”
“I urge you to take baby steps outside your bubble, not run as far away from it as possible and just hope you can find your way back.”
Great metaphoring there, Doc.
“Is Lawson no longer an option for you? You and I both know he’d take you in.”
“I don’t want him to be an option.”
“Then you need to tell Brody about your past.”
Like fuck I do. “Okay,” I lie.
* * *
Brody doesn’t own many shirts, apparently. At least, that’s the only reason I can think of as to why he’s shirtless most of the time.
He gets home from work wearing his big, fancy, costs more than my car suit, and then not two minutes later, bam, shirtless and wearing sweats.
I am not built for that type of agony—having to watch him move about his kitchen shirtless. Watching TV shirtless. Looking so fucking hot. Shirtless.
His abs haunt me in my fucking sleep. His beautiful, washboard abs.
But at least it’s better to be haunted by abs than my other ghosts.
All my “It’s cold in here. Aren’t you cold?” hinting gets laughed at. And fuck if that sound doesn’t get to me too. His voice is warm and comforting, and his laugh even more so.
The strong part of my brain, the part that forces me to get up every morning and drowns out the doubt and anxiety tempting me to stay in bed all day, tells me I can handle it. The other part—the part that makes me want to dive in, setbacks be damned—forces me to leave the apartment each night as soon as Brody comes home.
I head to the gym on the ground floor of the apartment building just to get away from all his temptation. It’s become routine. I get home from work, manage to scrounge up some dinner, change into workout gear, and then watch TV and wait for my roommate to come home so I can hide from him downstairs.