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“The same as they were two days ago when you called. I’m fine, Aidan. Really. Still showering and getting out. Still eating and functioning just fine. I’ve been living alone for three years. I’m better. Stop worrying.”
I wish I was better.
“You’re better but not one-hundred percent, Mika. Big difference. You’re at fifty percent at most. Could always be there. Sue me for worrying about you. Please tell me you’re eating more than just pizza.”
“Ice cream too.”
He snorts, and I grin while moving away from the door and heading upstairs.
“Found any melted cartons in the cupboards?” he muses.
Not sure why he finds that so funny. It always pisses me off when I do that. At least it doesn’t trigger a meltdown reaction.
“Not this week,” I grumble, eliciting a snicker from him.
He sounds… happy. That’s so good to hear. It’s been getting easier for him to laugh since he’s gotten to spend less and less time worrying about me. I even managed to release my live-in nurse three years ago.
It wasn’t an easy transition to let her go, but I managed not to hurt myself. After all, I never liked her. She was so cold and formal, which made the detachment of the habit easier.
And I killed her in one of my books. That also helped. Death is a finality that my brain comprehends and doesn’t allow triggers to emerge when a fixed figure in my life is removed. It’s a useful tool.
Aidan has been by my side since I got out of the hospital, but sometimes I wonder if it’s because of his worry for me, or because he and I have gotten so close and he doesn’t want to live alone.
“I’ll be back soon,” he says vaguely, staying within the safe confines of my triggers, and I grimace.
“No need to rush. Take some time to love the city. I know you miss it.”
“You can’t stay by yourself for too long at a time, Mika. You have to have someone there on occasion.”
“No, I don’t. Don’t come back just for that.” He knows that isn’t cool. I don’t want him here just to look after me.
He blows out a harsh breath and groans for a second. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean it that way. So, anyway, tell me about the bowling alley. How’s it doing?”
I smile while walking into my murder room/office.
“It’s going good.”
“Still feel unfinished?”
My smile falls. “Yeah. I don’t know why though.”
Again, another harsh breath leaves his lips. “Dr. Stein said you haven’t been calling her like you’re supposed to.”
I tense, wondering why she’s telling him anything at all. I know he’s allowed to be updated on progress. I also know Dr. Stein’s secretary said he couldn’t be reached.
“You went to see her or she called you?” I ask him.
“Both. I was missing my sessions with her. Anyway, give her a call. You can’t get better without her.”
I nod like he can see me, and I glance out the door, looking for Chase and worrying he might overhear, even though he’s downstairs and outside.
“I will,” I finally say.
“I’m meeting some friends for a drink, so I’ll let you go for now.”
“Have fun, Aidan. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
I start to wonder if he hung up already when he doesn’t respond for a few seconds. He knows that will have me calling him right back. I can’t stand to be hung up on, because the call feels too unfinished. But finally he speaks again.
