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“We’ll take a seat in my office,” she told me, leading me to a door that was left cracked open.
I’d been expecting a sterile room just like the reception area—white walls, gray chairs, white lamps. But no. Her office was done in dark colors, the walls painted a dark gray color that was almost black. Black lamps sat on two end tables, separated by a red couch with comfy-looking pillows. Plants took up the corners on the other side of the room, and two bookcases stood proudly along the wall between them. The windows were covered by black-out curtains, leaving only the soft glow of the lamps to light the room.
I relaxed—only marginally, though.
“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the couch. She sat down in a recliner that rocked as I took a seat on the couch, sinking into the cushions. My body relaxed another fraction.
“My name is Dr. Colland, but you can call me Charity,” she introduced herself. “Is it okay if I call you Logan, or do you prefer to be called something else?”
“Logan is fine,” I gruffly told her.
She smiled. “I hear you went through something pretty rough.” I swallowed thickly. Fuck, she jumped right in, didn’t she? “How are you feeling? Are you healing well?”
I shrugged. “I’m taking less pain medicine,” I told her. “So, I guess so.”
She nodded. “That’s good to hear.” She pulled her legs up into her chair, crossing them, her sock-covered toes wiggling as she got comfortable. “I hear you have two boyfriends.” A smile tilted my lips at the thought of Ezra and Spencer. “That sounds interesting.”
I chuckled. Talking about my boys was easy. It was the only thing that came as easy as breathing. “Spencer didn’t want to choose between us, and Ezra and I ended up falling in love, too,” I said with a shrug. “The three of us work well together. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”
“How are you handling intimacy with them after the attack?” she asked me.
I cast my eyes away from her, my Adam’s apple bobbing as I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. My palms grew clammy again. “I, uh…not well,” I finally managed. “Hugging and cuddling is fine, but when I kiss either of them, I feel like my skin is crawling, and my heart rate kicks up—not in the good way.”
It used to race for an entirely different reason. Now, when I kissed them, my heart rate jumped up as if preparing me to run. As if preparing me to fight.
I missed when it raced for the excitement. For the need to feel their lips against mine. I missed the heady anticipation of them touching me.
“Let’s start there and work our way deeper,” she said gently, drawing my eyes back to her. “I’m going to help you, Logan. We won’t let this monster rip something beautiful away from you. I promise.”
Tears burned in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to make them go away. But they spilled anyway—fucking traitorous bastards. “You really think I can be helped?” I croaked.
She nodded, understanding in her gaze. “I do, Logan. Trauma doesn’t have to rule your life, and I’m going to help you cope so you can be with your boys again.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, another tear running down my cheek.
Maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe…just fucking maybe…I could give Ezra and Spencer what they needed.
I needed to be able to give them what they needed.
CHAPTER 29
Spencer
TWO WEEKS LATER
The house was quiet when I walked inside. I frowned and kicked my shoes off by Logan’s, closing the front door behind me with a quiet snick. Dad’s car was gone, no doubt going to buy something for dinner. I thought Logan might have been watching TV, since that was usually what he did when he was here by himself, but all the rooms downstairs were empty. His textbooks had been left sprawled out on the table, which was unlike him. Since living here, he’d become a neat freak.
Dad said it was a coping mechanism, which I understood. I was like that too after we lost Mom.
I made my way up the stairs, straining my ears for any sign of Logan. As I neared the landing, I heard the shower running, and I sighed. Showers were a frequent thing now and usually meant he was spiraling. My heart ached.
I quickly chucked my bag onto my bed before striding to the bathroom down the hall. When I pushed open the door, my heart split in two.
Logan was sitting on the floor of the shower, his knees curled to his chest, his arms wrapped around his knees. His head was buried in his arms, but he looked up when I shut the bathroom door back behind me.
“Spence?” he croaked, his voice hoarse from crying.
“I’m here,” I rasped, quickly opening the shower door. The moment I stepped in, my clothes were drenched, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I settled on the floor of the shower and opened my arms. He crawled to me, vulnerability seeping from his pores. As soon as he was in my arms, he wrapped himself around me, linking his arms behind my neck and his legs behind my back. His tears were warm on the skin of my neck as he sobbed.
