Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Axel shook his head. “Not yet, but I know her well enough to know she would be happy for you.”
I sighed as I grabbed my phone and read the message.
* * *
You have an interview on Monday at 3 PM. I’ll hit you with the rest of the details later.
* * *
I shot back a quick thumbs up before I set my phone back down. “Does Dr. Gresham know when I might be able to see her?” I asked him.
Axel sighed as he shrugged. “Not sure,” he told me. My shoulders sagged. I really wanted to see my girl, but I understood the importance of it being the right time. I didn’t want my visit shoved on her before she was ready. “He was hoping he might be able to contact you next week to schedule a visit, but when I spoke to him a little while ago, he said Meghan was having a bit of a hard time with Vincent’s reaction.”
I pushed back from the counter with a muttered curse as I pushed my fingers through my curly black hair. “Fuck him,” I swore as I worked my jaw around. Axel arched an eyebrow at me in a question. “Vincent,” I clarified. “Not Dr. Gresham. He’s doing his job, and he’s doing what’s best for Meghan. I can never be mad about that.”
Axel smiled. “Therapy has been doing you good, Julian. The old you would have thrown something and called Dr. Gresham up to try to get your way.”
I snorted. That, unfortunately, was true. Once Axel had begun to visit Meghan every Wednesday, I took it upon myself to go to therapy to get help with my own issues. I wanted to be the best kind of man I could be for Meghan, and that meant I had to work through my own shit as well.
I couldn’t continue to be hard all the time—always wanting to fight with someone to get my way. I had to learn how to accept that sometimes, things wouldn’t go how I wanted them to, and that was okay.
I also had to learn how to be gentle in a way that Meghan needed me to be. My therapist—Dr. Farlie—thought it would be a good idea for me and Meghan to do a couple of sessions together, but that idea was quickly shot down when he found out she was actually in a psychiatric facility getting her own help.
So, Dr. Farlie focused on helping me become the best kind of man I could be.
Which started with not giving up my own dreams for her. It would only hurt us both in the long run, which was why I reached out to my current agent and asked him to set up a meeting with the Patriots.
I sighed. “I’m going to the gym,” I told him. “You coming?”
He nodded. “I’m down for some gym time.” He looked up at me with a small sigh. “She had an anxiety attack that day,” he told me quietly. I squeezed my eyes shut. She had been doing so damn good. “When she talked about how she turned into the person her mother was for that short amount of time, it caused her to have a panic attack. Vincent basically stared at her like a stranger as Dr. Gresham and I worked to get her calmed down.”
“Fuck,” I whispered, my voice sounding strangled as I rubbed my chest. My heart throbbed in my chest for her. “I wish I could be there for her—be her rock.”
Axel squeezed my shoulder. “She needs to learn to stand on her own two feet, bro. She’s strong—hella fucking strong. This is just something she and Dr. Gresham need to revisit and work through because it’s obviously something that still bothers her.”
I nodded in agreement, but there was a hollow ache in my chest for Meghan, for my goddess.
“I’ll meet you in the car,” I grumbled.
I moved outside and looked up at the sky. The sky was beginning to turn dark, and one lone star stood bright in the sky. It was all alone, just like Meghan probably felt at the moment, but despite it all, it was glowing.
“Shine, my goddess,” I whispered.
* * *
✶ ✶ ✶
* * *
Meghan
* * *
Dr. Gresham pushed open a large steel door and stepped in, holding the door open for me so I could follow him. I swallowed thickly and nervously followed him in. It had been a couple of a weeks since Vincent had visited. I had moved on from it—learned to cope with the fact that Vincent was changing positions in my life.
And I also went through more therapy on coping with everything surrounding my mother.
My eyes still hurt from all of the crying I had done. Those sessions, while they were getting easier, still took a lot out of me.