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Ethan nodded slowly, so deep in his focus he didn’t even speak. Pride fluttered in my chest at the realization, and hope flared in my heart. The sessions were getting better and better, with Ethan learning something new about the root of his anger every time. With deeper understanding came better chances of control, and adding the tools we’d been practicing—grounding, meditation, mindfulness—I had no doubts he’d be able to redirect his anger healthily the next time he faced a difficult situation.
Of course, we’d never really know until that moment came.
If that moment ever came.
Not that I wanted him to be tested. I’d be happy if he never found himself in another situation like he had with the awful fan at the Hurricanes game, but that was one of the hard things about my line of work—sometimes I didn’t know if the tools I gave my clients were helpful until something happened that caused them to use them.
“If you find yourself in a situation and grounding doesn’t work or deep breathing doesn’t work, closing your eyes and focusing on this place in your mind can do wonders in managing your reactive response,” I continued. “There is nothing wrong with feeling angry. It’s a valid and useful emotion. The methods we’re working on are all about channeling that anger into a calm state so you can think and react clearly. Using the anger instead of letting it use you.”
He breathed deeply on his own, his chest expanding and deflating in a steady rhythm.
“When you let anger use you, you’re allowing it to steal all your power and energy. It may feel good at the time to let it take over, but in the end, there’s often way more backlash than productivity. Finding this sense of calm during an intense situation will give you the time you need to be slower to react, which will serve you more in the end.”
Ethan breathed again, his entire body loose and calm as he hopefully let the words sink into his conscience. I wanted to give him all the control I could, not because I thought he needed fixing, but because he deserved to be in full control of his life. Punching out that fan probably felt good, but in the end, Ethan lost.
And I was doing everything in my power to help him get back to where he needed to be—publicly and mentally.
“All right,” I said calmly. “Let’s take one last deep breath, and then slowly come back to the present.”
Ethan and I matched our breathing, and after a few more moments, he slowly opened his eyes.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Relaxed,” he said. “I’ve never done meditation that deep before. It’s always hard to quiet my mind.”
“You did amazing today.”
“I think it’s your voice,” he said, stretching out his legs as I shifted to the opposite mat to do the same. “Very soothing. Hypnotic even.” He grinned at me.
“Do you think it’ll help whenever another episode strikes?” I asked, reaching down to grab my toes for a deep stretch.
Ethan mimicked my moves. “Honestly, I won’t know until it happens.” He shrugged. “The grounding helped that night with Maddox,” he continued. “I feel like I’m getting better.”
“Me too,” I said. “I’ve been reporting as such, too.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “That’s strictly your professional opinion, right?”
I laughed at the teasing implication. “You know I’m more than professional when it comes to our sessions and your life-coaching needs.”
“No one could deny it,” he said, locking eyes with me as we came out of the stretch. “But this session is over, right?”
My heart fluttered in my chest, and I glanced down at my watch. “As of two minutes ago, yes. This session is over.”
“Thank fuck,” he said, reaching across the mat and pulling me until I had to straddle his lap. His lips instantly met mine, and I sighed as he held me close. “I missed you,” he groaned, his hands roaming up and down my back.
I smiled against his kiss, pulling back to look at him. “I’ve been here all morning.”
“Not like this,” he said, and playfully smacked my ass for emphasis.
“You mean like this?” I asked, rolling my hips over what was so not hidden beneath the thin fabric of his athletic pants. I kept doing it until he was hard as granite beneath me as I rocked against him and kissed him like I’d wanted to all morning.
“Fuck, yes,” he said, his hands falling to my hips, his firm grip urging me to move harder against him.
Warm tendrils of desire made me shiver as I slipped my tongue between his lips, his meeting mine in a desperate need.
“Have I told you how fucking sexy you look?” Ethan asked, leaning back to survey me atop him.
“I’m in yoga pants and a crop top,” I said. “Pretty sure my hair is a mess, too.” I pointed to the top-knot I’d thrown it in that morning.
