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“Of course.” I hand her the drink and watch it reach her lips. I’ve never wanted to be a damn drink more than I do right now. What I wouldn’t give to feel Lana’s lips against mine again.
“You not getting sleep?” I ask, noting the bags under her eyes. Even though she put makeup on, I still see the faint signs of dark circles.
“Not really. I’ve been hearing things around the house, and it has me extra paranoid. You know me.” She tries to chuckle it off with a lift of her tiny shoulders, but it does the opposite for me.
“Lana, why didn’t you call me? If you’re hearing noises, you need to call me or the police.”
“It’s probably raccoons or something. It’s the suburbs and we live right on the edge of a heavily wooded area.”
“I know, but you know I don’t want you feeling alone or uneasy.”
“I have felt that way since the day you left,” She admits, dropping her eyes and handing me back the coffee. I feel like a complete dick. I know we both miss each other, the yearning to come home and stake claim again vehement, but until I can fully trust she is going to open up, I can’t go home.
I don’t respond. I keep my eyes forward and my mouth shut. That hurt both of us. Today is session four, and if she doesn’t start divulging more information about her past, that slightly ajar door I leave open for her may close permanently. I need my best friend back.
After a few minutes of awkward silence in the waiting room, we are finally called back, helping relieve my anxiety. After I told him his absence made me lonely, the tension was even thicker than before. Good thing I didn’t bring up the fact that also in his absence, the nightmares have resurfaced, making it nearly impossible to close my eyes without seeing Joel.
“Welcome back, you two. So, week four and both of you are here. That’s a big step. How do we feel about this?”
Like always, Kings and I are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, making no physical contact.
“I’m happy she has been committing to these sessions. Makes me hopeful.”
My stomach runs a mess when he speaks, weighing heavy with optimism.
“Good, that’s good. How is the living apart going? Dividing Princeton’s time? All that.”
Looking to Kings, I stare at his jaw and watch it work, straining, tightening, pulling while he thinks. I always let him speak first, feeling like I owe him that at least.
“I hate it. I want my son with me twenty-four seven.”
I drop my eyes. I hope he isn’t still planning to take Prince away. I can’t lose him too. Kingston has been spending every afternoon with him after work, while I get the daytime with him. I have yet to return to the boutique, not that I’m needed, since we have a full staff and Shay has returned part time, while I run the entire online website. I miss the boutique, painfully so, wishing I could find it in me to relinquish some control.
“I want him home,” I blurt out, unashamed.
“You want Kingston home?” Dr. Moore confirms with a question. Turning my head, I nod.
“I want him home,” I repeat as Kingston looks me over, his eyes taking me in like he will never look at me again. I feel it move all through my body, reaching every nerve ending, flowing through each ounce of blood. He hasn’t looked at me like this in so long, and all I’ve craved is a touch or even just a simple glance.
“Kingston? What do you have to say to that?”
He eyes me over again, his jaw slightly agape, his tongue dancing against his teeth as he thinks of what to say, all while turning me on. Those lips, that tongue, those perfect teeth, I want them on my skin. No, I need them on my skin.
“I can’t come home until she starts opening up to me.”
“Anything, baby. Kingston, I will do anything—no matter what it does to me. I will do anything to make you come back to me.” I hate desperate women, weak types who chase men who want nothing to do with them, but here I am on the opposite side of the fence, doing just that. Only difference is, no matter how hard he tries to stay away and let me go, he loves me enough to stay and fight in this room with me every single week. So I may be the one more vocal with my begging, but his actions are just as guilty.
“You need to tell us how bad it was, Lana. You need to heal, and that’s the one way you will. But are you strong enough to do that?” he pushes, his brows drawing in and his face going soft.
“You make me strong enough to. Your love makes me strong enough,” I admit, and his face softens further and my heart lifts, feeling his hope transfer to me.
“The scar. You mentioned last time that Joel’s worst attack was the day he gave you a scar. Tell us about that.”
I gulp, turning my attention back on Dr. Moore and her question.
“Why don’t you tell us the instant you got that scar. What happened? What events led up to that?”
Kingston slowly turns to look at me, his eyes scanning me over, his head still dropped but facing me. I gulp, my heart rate increasing. I can feel it all over, running through me like a freight train.
