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No matter what I would have anticipated him saying, asking to talk it out like a counseling session wasn’t anywhere in the top twenty. He said he’d been in and out of therapy pretty much all his life, so if anyone knew what worked for him, it would be Rick.
“You want me to listen, or you want me to answer questions for you?” I had to admit, I was a little intrigued by what he was asking and how exactly this would help settle his irrational fears.
He shrugged. “In a therapy session, I would talk about what was on my mind, why I thought it mattered so much, and a therapist would prod me with well placed and thoughtful questions to help me reach some type of conclusion. One I might not have realized on my own. But since my current issue is my feelings for you, I think it would be the most helpful for us to have a conversation about it.”
That intrigue slowly morphed into wariness as he watched me with such hopeful eyes. Those damn eyes.
“Okay, start us off.”
His gaze dropped away, although he turned on his side to face me more fully. Swiping a hand over his hair, his black strands stuck up in different directions, giving him a just fucked look. My stomach clenched at the sight. I was starting to think I was falling victim to Pavlov's theory. Anytime he even remotely resembled this sexed up look, fire licked at my core.
“I told you forming unhealthy attachments was the reason for my rehab stays. The cycle was the same. I could always pick out the signs and see it happening, I just couldn’t find the willpower to stop myself. But sometimes, I wouldn’t have an issue walking away from certain things. Like how easily I sold my parent’s house, even though I’d thought I might have gotten too attached to the memory of it.” He paused, as if making sure I was still with him. I nodded, and he continued.
“I’ve gotten attached to people before, and even girlfriends—” That pricked at my heart more than I’d ever admit. “But this feeling of jealousy,” he grinned wryly, “is new for me. I would love something, want to be around it, or them, but I’d never experienced this before. Fletcher’s okay, I see the need for him, but…”
“But?”
“I think it would take more than a voluntary stay in a mental hospital to get over the heartbreak if you left me. If I ever got over it at all.” A naked vulnerability filled his eyes as he traced every line of my face.
Emotions like this, discussions like this, were all new to me. Daddy had taken the best care of me, teaching me what I needed to know and how to stay safe. But these types of emotions were often useless. At the very least, we didn’t acknowledge them out loud.
Rick’s needs were alien to me, but I wanted to help him. No, I wanted him to not need constant reassurance, because he trusted me. “I can’t give you validation every time I interact with Fletcher, just so you feel good about us. That wouldn’t be fun or fair to either of us.”
He pulled my hand to the bed and played with my fingers. “I’m not asking for that. It’s healthy for us to talk about what we feel and how to manage our expectations, and compromise if needed.”
I shifted gears and was hopefully asking the right questions. “Why do you think you’ve never felt this way before?” Although a small part of me was thrilled I had something no one in his past had ever gotten from him.
“I think...I think because we’re so enmeshed in life together, and I click with you more than anyone I’ve ever met. You accepted me and let me into your home just as I am. You didn’t ask me to change, or go back to therapy. It’s as invigorating as it is addicting.”
Leaning into him, I pressed my lips to his. It both made me sad that he never had that before, and happy I was the one to finally give it to him. Rick was a good man, and was more protective than most. He deserved to be appreciated for who he was. I got that.
“And what do you need from me so you don’t worry that I’m not going to disappear or stop...seeing you?” I said quietly.
“That’s a good question.” He closed his eyes and slid his nose along the side of my face. “I think this is it. Just listen to me when I want to talk about it. That means more to me than anything else.”
My eyelids fluttered shut. “I’ll always listen to you, Rick.”
When he pulled back, he squeezed my hand and scooted closer. “What are we doing with the computer?” He must have been satisfied with our chat. It hadn’t been anything like I thought it would be, and not a hardship. I could see many of our nights together ending with similar pillow talk. I wouldn’t mind it at all.
Turning back to my computer, I woke it up. “I have more work to do. I thought I could bring you a little deeper into it. Maybe even give you something to do when I run some errands.”
His frown was heavy. “I’d rather help you on your errands.”
Laughing, I logged in.
“How much computer training have you had?” It was always better to not assume.
“Well, I’m not Mister Fantastic downstairs, but I know enough to follow instructions.” The honesty, grudging or not, tickled me. Daddy would approve of the answer. He always stressed that pretending to know more than you did was dangerous. Pretense led to cockiness and cockiness led to mistakes. Mistakes could get you killed.
The fist in my chest squeezed the air out of my lungs. It hurt to think about him. It hurt even more each time the thoughts collided with the sure knowledge I’d never see him again. Or speak to him. Pain burned with each inhale and exhale as I blinked rapidly.
“Vienna.” His voice softened and dropped into a faintly deeper register. “I’ll work harder with him, I’m sorry…”
“No,“ I told him with another laugh, this one definitely forced as I put the unruly emotions back into the lockbox where they belonged. “You don’t have to force yourself to do more than necessary. I just need you two not to fight and I need you to trust me.”
I needed that.
Not looking too closely at the choice of words, I gave Rick a quick smile. It was impossible to miss the concern on his face. The work. Focus on the work.
