Page 50 of Addiction

“I think I need another sticker.”

“Another one?” Wade gasps, causing her to laugh again.

I’m standing now, leaning against the wall with my hands in my pockets, smiling to myself and completely entranced by the way Wade interacts with his patient.

Thoughts of Ava come to mind, and I wonder what her personality will be like the older she gets. I want to have as much fun with my niece as Jessica is having with Wade.

The little girl and her mom leave the clinic leaving me eager to see him.

Getting permission from the woman behind the desk, I take a deep breath and step toward his treatment room. However, what I see when I knock on the door has me bursting out with laughter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Wade

Of all the times Asher Nelson needs to be standing in the doorway of my treatment room, today is not that day. Not when I’m standing here with hundreds of pink unicorn stickers all over my face and a glittery, rainbow tutu around my waist.

I look like a fucking idiot, and the hottest guy in town has seen it all.

“Wow. So this is what you do when you come to work?” He chuckles.

“I’ll have you know that I do anything for my patients to cooperate.”

“Clearly. You look pretty. Can I take a picture?”

“Fuck you.” I laugh, starting to take the stickers off my face as he comes further into the room, looking around.

“So this is where the magic happens?”

“Medically speaking, yes.”

He picks up one of the stress balls that has been left on the floor before hopping up onto the treatment bed. He’s in jeans that hug his strong waist and a black T-shirt that fits him like a glove, mentally tormenting me and making me want to know what lies beneath. The way his biceps pop out shows the leg of his frog skeleton tattoo and the remaining part of his tribal band that decorates his skin—a tattoo I’ve seen many times before but still get captivated by.

Playing with the ball in his hand, he takes in the room and my work surroundings while I clear up for the day. All the while, I’m very much aware that he’s nervous. I can see it in his features. I’ve learnt with Asher to give him time. Time to process. Time to explain. Time to enjoy. Rushing him only has the potential to bring up those barriers that I don’t want to have to fight to get back down again. He will talk when he’s ready.

“Did you ever take Pop to a rehabilitation clinic like this?”

I place the last of Jessica’s paperwork into her file and answer without turning. “No. With your dad, all our work was home-based. Back then, all my patients were in their own environments with a program plan for their recovery. Very few went to a clinic.”

"Little Jessica seems like a great kid."

"She's the best.” I beam. “She certainly brightens up my day at work when she's in for her sessions."

"You make it sound like you don't enjoy it any other time."

Turning to face him, I lean against the desk. "It's not that I don't enjoy it. I love what I do. It's just I don't feel like I fit in here. Everyone is great, but I like working solo. I like things to run my way, knowing that I only have to answer to myself and not others. And as stupid as it sounds, I hate the idea of patients sitting in a waiting area looking at the clock. That’s not what I want."

My mind flashes back to my father and how he clock watches each patient. If they are a few minutes over, they get a few minutes less on their next appointment. He treats people like projects and animals. Anything less than a fucking human being. I said once that I would never turn out like him, yet here I am in a building with a waiting room just outside of the door and an appointment book I have to abide by.

"So, why leave driving around in the community and come here if you knew it wasn’t going to be what you wanted? What changed?”

Even though I know the answer, his question hits me harder than I expected. “Pete,” I say, holding his gaze. “Your dad changed a lot of people’s lives before and after he died. He was this massive personality that everyone loved and not a day went by when he didn’t have a smile on his face. Even on the bad days when he’d struggle to string a sentence together, he always had a smile on his face. When he died, it changed a lot of things for a lot of people. Me included. I took a step back from working in clients’ homes because I didn’t feel I was in the right head space. It felt too close to home, so I passed them on to other therapists. Eventually, I needed to get back into work, yet I still couldn’t bring myself to go back to the job that got me out of bed on a morning. At the time, I thought a different environment would be what was needed so I came here. And now I just feel—”

“Stuck.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve always known Pop was a good man, but I never knew just how big an impact he had on people.”