AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"And that's why you're the man."
THE MINUTES TICK BY slowly until I'm finally pulling into the parking lot of North Haven Behavioral. You'd think that would be a good thing, since the last place I want to be is here, but it's not. It meant having to deal with the stupid ass withdrawals for longer. My head feels like it's caving in, and I'm fidgeting like a motherfucker.
All I have to do is get through the next hour, and then I can go fix myself the best way I know how.
Taking a deep breath to get control of myself, I get out of the car and head inside. The place is immaculate, and everything you’d expect from a doctor’s office. It’s as if these people make it a point to try to bore the hell out of you. Not a single thing is out of place.
I walk up to the receptionist desk and smirk as the young secretary does a double take. Her eyes widen, and she licks her lips just enough to get my attention. I give her my best smile, making her melt right where she sits.
“Jace London.”
“Hannah Bailey,” she responds with a flirty grin.
I cock a brow and glance over at her computer. “You’re cute, babe, but I was telling you my name so you could check me in.”
Her cheeks turn bright red as she realizes her mistake. “Right. I’m sorry.”
She focuses on the screen for a minute before grabbing a clipboard and handing it to me. I can faintly hear the sound of her instructing me on how to fill it out, but I can’t be bothered to listen. These forms aren’t brain surgery. I grab the pen and walk away while she’s still speaking.
It takes a little less than ten minutes before I’m done and handing her back the clipboard. The corners of her mouth raise as she tells me to take a seat and that Dr. Litman will be with me in a moment.
If I wasn’t in such a pissed-off mood, and itching for a pill or three, I’d probably spend the wait flirting with her. She’s not exactly drop-dead gorgeous, but I’ve slept with worse than her. But I’m just not in the right frame of mind to entertain some chick who thinks that you need conversation and feelings before jumping into bed together.
Whatever happened to just a good time? There’s nothing wrong with some no-strings-attached sex. Hell, you’d think with the trust issues all these women have that they’d be fully on board. You stay guarded and unharmed while still being able to get off. What’s so bad about that?
Then again, it’s not like I’ve been able to sleep with anyone lately. I just can’t get into it enough to make the effort. Not since everything went down.
“Mr. London?” a female voice calls.
I look up from my lap to see a woman standing in the doorway. She looks no older than mid-thirties. Her black hair compliments her olive skin tone, and if cougars were a thing for me, I might have taken my shot with her. She smiles warmly at me, but I just raise my brows in return.
“Are you ready?”
Standing, I roll my eyes. “No, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”
The two of us go into her office, and she shuts the door behind us. Even this room looks like Doc’s got some major OCD. The books on the shelves are all color coordinated, and the little knickknacks are perfectly spaced. A part of me wants to fuck with it all, just to see if I could get a reaction out of her, but I don’t. Instead, I take a seat on the couch and chuckle at how cliché this all is.
“It’s nice to meet you Jace,” she tells me. “I’m Dr. Litman.”
“So I’ve heard.”
I don’t mean for my tone to be so cold, but I’m not about to apologize for it either. Unfortunately, she seems unfazed by my disdain.
Dr. Litman sits down on the chair across from me and grabs her notebook. Without looking up from where her pen slides across the page, she starts evaluating me like some kind of lab rat.
“Tell me about yourself, Jace,” she says.
My brows furrow. “Like what?”
“Anything you want. Your hobbies. Your dreams. What you had for breakfast. I just want to know a little about you.”
The last thing I want to do is tell this woman anything meaningful, so instead, I decide to have a little fun with this. “My hobbies are my ant-farm and feeding my pet aardvark, Marcel. I dream of marrying him one day. He’s a truly good lover, and I can’t believe animal-human relationships aren’t accepted yet. Oh, and I had a bowl of kittens for breakfast.”
That seems to make her finally look up from her notebook. “You’re mocking me. Your father told me you might do that.”
“Did he now?” Figures.
“He did,” she confirms. “He called me yesterday to warn me that you’re a little less than thrilled at the idea of therapy.”
