Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
When it was time for my therapy appointment, I stood with my laptop. “I’ll be done in about an hour. No beating yourself up about any of this. Promise?”
He chewed on his lip. “I’ll try.”
I walked to my room, shut the door behind me, and settled on my bed. I was distracted during the session, and my therapist called me on it. “Tell me what’s eating up your concentration.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked over my shoulder to be sure the door was indeed shut. “I told you about Lachlan.”
“Your roommate and friend.”
“Yeah…and the circumstances of how we came to know each other.”
She nodded. “He was living on the street after being a victim of domestic abuse. You helped him through a storm and through a random assault.”
Hearing it laid out like that was surreal. Made it seem like Lachlan and I had been through a lot together in a short amount of time. I had told my therapist the truth about my relationship with Lachlan before I’d told my family, and I felt guilty about that, but it felt good talking to her, knowing everything would be kept in confidence. It helped me sort through my feelings and put things in perspective.
“So this afternoon, Lachlan and Oscar were on a walk downtown when out of the blue, he ran into his ex.” It still sounded like a wild coincidence. If you believed such things. My mom always told me there was no such thing. That life put tests in your path, and how you decided to respond to them helped you grow as a person. “Oscar went into protective mode when they started arguing.”
Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Is Lachlan all right?”
“Yeah, but apparently Oscar tore the asshole’s pant leg—maybe even drew blood, he’s not sure—and the guy said he’d press charges.”
“Sounds like a real winner,” she muttered as she wrote something on her notepad. “Do you wish you’d been there to protect him?”
Damn, she always knew how to get right down to my underlying feelings.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “I feel helpless after the fact.”
But I was liable to punch the guy’s lights out, and then he’d bring assault charges against me.
“I’ll bet you being there now is providing him plenty of comfort.”
I blushed and looked away.
“Your feelings for him are growing.”
“They are,” I confessed quietly. “But we’re not anything more than—”
“Why can’t you be?”
I hitched a shoulder. “We both have baggage, so…”
“So that means you can’t find happiness?” She arched a brow. “You obviously understand each other quite well. Or are you nervous the feelings won’t be reciprocated?”
“Yeah, there’s a bit of that too.”
What if admitting anything scared him off? Not only would he have to deal with a dickhead ex, but also with a new guy who caught feelings when he was only trying to lend a hand.
“That makes sense. But you’ll never know unless you’re honest with him and yourself.”
“We’ll see.” I looked away, and she must’ve taken that as a sign that I was finished with this conversation.
“Let’s talk about your depression,” she said, and I nodded. “I know you’ve had a lot going on with traveling and work and this news about your dog, so I want you to try and take it easy. All those events can be triggers because they deplete your energy. And though you think you’re doing better, it could be a setback. You know how that goes.”
Only too well.
After the session was over, I shut my laptop and opened the door, noting how quiet it was in the apartment. Maybe Lachlan and Oscar had fallen asleep on the couch. I padded toward the living room, only to find it empty. As were the kitchen and bathroom.
The only option left was the guest room. The door was shut, but that wasn’t anything new. When I opened it, I finally found them.
Asleep in his yellow tent in the corner of the room.
I clutched my heart as I watched them for a minute. Somehow, that man and my dog were meant for each other. And hopefully I fit somewhere in there too.
33
LACHLAN
It was the following weekend, and Foster was still in bed. In fact, since the incident with Clint, he seemed more lethargic, more pensive, and I had to wonder if his anger about what happened was building up as the days went by. We hadn’t heard anything from Clint or the authorities, and it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’d just gotten back from walking Oscar, two coffees and muffins in hand, but Foster was still tucked away in bed.
“You asleep?” I whispered as I padded into his room.
“Sorry,” he replied groggily and shifted on his pillow. “I know I’m not much company.”
“It’s okay.” I set his coffee down on the nightstand. “I just want to make sure…does this have anything to do with Clint and—”