Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“At Pump one night,” I say, playing along.
“Oh, there’s nothing but trash at that place. You can do better.”
“Even if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to.”
He smirks before sliding his phone out of his pocket and starting to text.
“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“The only movie I’ll be watching tonight is one with my best friend in the fucking world.”
“No, Frankie, seriously. You need to go out and have fun. I don’t want to put you in a bad mood. You know how it is when I get like this. There’s nothing you can do. Please. It’ll make me feel better.”
“Aw, shit. I already sent the text,” he says, acting like he had no control over it. He throws his phone down on the bed beside him. “If you were sick with a cold, then I’d be sticking around making you soup and feeding you Mucinex, and this is no different.”
“So you’re going to make me some soup?” I tease him.
“And get you some Mucinex, apparently,” he says with a chuckle before running his hand through my hair, petting me. He means it just like the way he would have done it in the past, but he runs his hand down the back of my head, to my neck and massages gently…more like something he does for me now that he knows about my newfound love for acting like a pup, particularly with him.
I relax into it, and he moves closer to me before I fall against his chest, appreciating the way he’s massaging me.
“You like that?” he asks. “Does that make you feel better?”
“A little,” I confess.
He kisses my forehead. “Good. Now why don’t we get out some of those CBT worksheets that I’m so good at.”
I laugh before tilting my head up to look into those friendly brown eyes of his.
“I know, I know,” he continues. “It’s not fair. Since I got a big head start on those before you even knew what they were.”
It reminds me of his own experience with depression when he was younger—one of the reasons I guess he’s so amazing at caring for me now when I get like this.
“Come on, Ev. We can save the puppy play for another night and play a different sort of game for a change.”
He winks, and I say, “That’d be nice actually.”
“Good, because I was hardly giving you a choice.” Though I know if I’d pushed, he wouldn’t have forced me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. He rises from the bed before leaning down and hooking an arm around me and throwing me over his shoulder.
“Frankie!” I say, laughing.
“Now where are those worksheets at?” he says as he starts searching around my desk. “Not that we don’t have them fucking memorized by now.”
The way he’s acting about all this—like it’s not a big deal, like it’s just this thing we have to do from time to time—takes the shame out of it, makes me feel like it’s less of a big deal than I made it today.
I know that, deep down.
Frankie never makes me feel like it’s more than that.
He carries me into the living room and plops down on the couch, cradling me in his lap as we work our way through some of the exercises we’ve done in the past—ones that make me feel more at ease, that help me understand that this really will get better.
Frankie must notice that I’ve eased up quite a bit, because he says, “Okay, I think that’s enough homework for tonight, don’t you?” He retrieves a Reese’s Piece from his pocket, which he’s been treating me with throughout the exercises—a clever addition, I might add.
He pops it into my mouth, and I enjoy it as he sets the worksheets down on the side table.
“How you feeling?” he asks.
“Much better now.”
“See. You should trust your pup handler with these things.”
He earns another laugh from me, but it doesn’t keep me from feeling like I’m still in the middle of an episode.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?”
“I didn’t want to ruin your day. You were out having a good time with the guys, and your text message sounded so playful and friendly. I figured there was no reason to bring you down.”
“This isn’t bringing me down, Ev. I like being here for you.”
“It just seems like this happens all the time. I know it’s really a day here and there every few months, but when it’s happening, all the good times are a blur and these days seem more real than everything else. And like I just keep bringing you down with me when they happen.”
“It’s just a passing storm, remember? And sometimes we have to find the storm shelter, but not such a bad thing when we’re together, is it? This is how we work. I’m here for you when shit gets hard, and you’re here for me when it gets hard for me…like it did with that fucked-up anniversary with my sperm donor shit.”