Page 62 of Aro (Cerberus MC)


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“You can schedule more sessions with her if you need them.”

“Are you suggesting I continue?”

His lips form a flat line. “Not at all. You know yourself better than anyone, Dr. Sullivan. If you say you’re ready and in the right headspace, then I can do nothing but trust that you are.”

His words feel like a challenge, and I don’t know how to respond. Silence fills the distance between the two of us, but I refuse to get distracted by the way he’s turning those ink cartridges over in his huge palm.

“I’ll be ready for work when it’s time to head out.”

He nods, taking it for what I’m offering. I may not be ready this exact second, but I’m making the commitment to be at that point when I need to be. If I’m not, I’d never risk the lives of others to save face.

“Have a good day,” he says before walking away.

It feels like another challenge, and I keep my lips sealed tightly because this is one promise I know I can’t make without lying.

Chapter 34

Aro

I’m not a fucking stranger to internal thoughts. The part I’m struggling with is getting lost in my head and finding no damn solutions to the fucking problems I’m bombarding my brain with.

I needed a break from the prosthetic, and even though I feel guilty for pulling it off and tossing it to the side, I haven’t made any effort to pick it back up.

I pull a ragged breath past my lips as I lift the barbell over my head, questioning whether I should try for another set or give up.

I didn’t realize how much someone uses their legs for balance when bench pressing weights.

Every fucking thing in my life right now is a goddamned struggle, and I fucking hate it. The thought of giving up has crossed my mind more than once in recent months, and I sort of hate myself for even letting those insidious thoughts infiltrate my psyche.

“I brought you something to drink,” Ugly says after he walks into the gym.

I heard the second the door opened, and I let my mind convince me it was Slick coming back to speak her mind. Even if she’s yelling at me for being a dick, at least that would be better than ignoring me like I don’t exist.

I convinced myself before my return to the clubhouse that she’d be clingy, but it appears she doesn’t give a shit at all. I know it’s the way it should be, but her casualness when I was flirting with her moments ago pissed me off. She didn’t take the bait other than looking at my mouth after mentioning the intimate time we’ve spent together. She’s indifferent to it all, which should appeal to me.

She’s not playing hard to get. She didn’t act coy or playful at all. If anything, she was a little disappointed that I brought up the way she pulls my hair when she comes.

“You know what works better than lifting weights at relieving stress?”

I ignore my friend, already knowing what the man is going to say.

He thinks with his dick a hundred and fifty percent of the time.

“You need to get laid,” he says, despite me not answering his question.

“She’s not interested,” I say, lowering the barbell to my chest before pushing it back up. He has to be talking about Slick because they must’ve walked past each other when she was leaving and he was coming back out here. He gave me so much shit about me not giving him details about what went down between her and me. The man is always grasping at straws about the topic.

“I didn’t mention anyone in particular.”

“I’m not interested in getting laid at all.”

I have to push it all the way up into the resting position on the frame when I realize I’m not placating the man, albeit I’m still lying. I’m not interested in going out and finding a chick to fuck away the stress I’m feeling. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck, but there’s only one person I can imagine having that level of intimacy with.

Ugly’s laugh brings me back to reality, forcing me out of my head.

I stare up at the ceiling, feeling like a little bitch for even worrying about any of it in the first place. I never wanted messy, but here I am being the one that can’t let any of it go.

“You need to get out of the clubhouse.”

I turn my head on the bench to look over at my friend.

“Jake’s would be good for you. Maybe there’d be someone there to help you change your mind.”

My first instinct is to refuse, to tell him that there’s no one else but her, but at the same time, there’s something else I’ve been struggling with.

“Can I be vulnerable with you right now?”

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