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“Am I?” His breath was warm on her skin, and he dipped his head close enough to rest his forehead on hers. “I could never help anyone.”
And then his lips brushed over hers – firm and soft, his heavy hand still on her back. She rested her hands on his forearms, allowing the kiss – the subtle and amazing kiss, both of their mouths opening just enough, neither pushing it any farther. Michael was the first to end it, sliding his hand away from her body, and taking a step back. The cold mountain air flowed between them, creating an imaginary barrier.
“I shouldn’t have done that, Haize,” he whispered, shaking his head. His thick eyebrows were furrowed as he looked toward the ground, now suddenly unable to make eye contact with her.
“It’s fine, Mikey. If I didn’t want you to kiss me, I would’ve pulled away.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re helping me. I can’t fuck it up. I can’t turn this into something huge. I always do that.”
“Always do what?” Her heart ached. She wanted him to pull her in for a hug, a deeper kiss… she wanted his hands all over her. But she knew what he meant. She knew where he was coming from because she knew they couldn’t be together, either.
“I make things sexual. And then it’s all ruined. I care for you enough to not do that to you, Haize. I won’t do that to you. And I’m sorry I kissed you tonight. I should’ve never even touched you.”
“I told you it’s okay, Mikey. But I understand. You’re right… it could complicate things. I could mess up the progress you’ve made, and I don’t want to complicate your life even more than it already is.”
He backed away even farther. “I understand if you don’t wanna be my sponsor anymore. It’ll hurt, but if you need to put some distance between us, I understand, Haize.”
“I don’t want that, Mikey.” I want you, though she certainly didn’t say it out loud. “I will continue to help you if you want me to.”
He nodded again, pulling his hat bill low. “I always fuck a good thing up. I’m sorry.”
It killed her to see him that way. A lifetime of acting on his desires was taking its toll on him, and the fact that he was able to stop himself, to say no, meant the world to her despite it being the opposite of what she wanted. He had matured and was making progress, though she longed to have him as more than a friend. It would never happen, and the sooner she could convince herself of that, the better off they’d both be. For his recovery… for her heart, and the walls she needed to build around it.
Chapter Fourteen
Michael hated going to his counselor appointments more than anything else he was required to do. He could stay sober, meet with his P.O., and go to as many AA appointments as were needed… but coming to bare his soul to a person he didn’t know made him sick to his stomach.
He checked in with the front desk, who was very discreet about saying names and how you signed in. As soon as she typed him into the computer, she blacked his name out on the clipboard and invited him to have a seat in the waiting room. There weren’t too many people there, but he pulled his hat brim down low anyway. He felt famous in a small town, though most would consider it infamous.
As he waited, he thought about Haize. The kiss was something else, and he couldn’t get it off his mind. He’d kissed lots of women, but there was something different with hers. It wasn’t even a deep kiss – just on the lips, mouths opened, not even tongue, but it made his knees weak and his brain unable to think up any rational thoughts.
Wouldn’t that be his luck? The one woman to make him have butterflies in his stomach and he wasn’t allowed to act on it… the story of his life. He’d never had trouble getting women, but it was her he wanted, and the saying was true – we always wanted what we couldn’t have, which made it all so complicated.
A man came to the entrance of the waiting room – the same man he had his intake appointment with – and invited him upstairs to his office at the end of the hallway. Michael couldn’t recall his name but remembered as soon as he saw his nameplate on the outside of his door and again on his desk as he sat across from him. His name was Sam… possibly one of the easiest names to remember.
The room smelled like lavender and vanilla, and Michael figured that was to keep his clients calm. Nothing about the situation was calming. Telling his secrets, and getting advice from a stranger… all went against everything he believed in. He was only doing this for the sake of his parole requirements, much like AA started. AA had gotten better because of Haize, even before he had developed feelings for her.
“How have things been since we last spoke?” Sam opened a notebook and poised an ink pen between his fingers. “These meetings were supposed to be weekly. You need to get better about keeping our appointments. Consistency will help the counseling relationship. You’ll get more comfortable being here the more you come.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know if I’ll ever get comfortable with all this.” Michael motioned his hands around the room. “Things have been fine. Just getting through the day. Going to work. Going to all my required appointments. Every move I make being watched.”
“Last time we met it was just an intake appointment. I learned some things about your drug use history and sexual history. The basics to sort of set a foundation of some of your past. Let’s talk a little bit more about your childhood.”
Michael shifted his weight in the chair and looked around the room. He noted the cleanliness, the dim lights, and Sam’s diplomas on the wall behind him. There were no personal family photographs, only artwork to match the calming effect he was attempting to achieve.
“Look, I’m only here because it’s part of my parole requirements. I don’t really wanna…” He spread his hands and leaned back. “I just can’t do this.”
Sam arched his eyebrow and jotted a few sentences down. “Your parole requirements say you have to engage in the counseling sessions. I report to them about your appointments. I keep it confidential. I’d never tell them any details of what we discuss, but I can tell them if you’re being cooperative or not. And if I tell them you’re not being cooperative, the parole board and your parole officer can say it’s noncompliance and revoke you back to prison.”
“So, you’re all holding it over my head. Tell my story, get diagnosed with some mental illness, and stay out of prison. Seems a little sketchy to me.”
“What’s the problem with talking this out with a counselor? Do you have some sort of issue with mental health professionals?”
“I have a problem telling things to someone I don’t even know. How do I know I can trust you?”
“I’m a professional counselor. I am mandated to keep things confidential. I could lose my license if I break confidentiality. I am here to help, not to put a label on you. It’s a battle I face with many clients. The stigma is still alive and well, and the sooner people accept that mental health is real and okay, the more I can help. The more I can provide services that will not just keep you out of prison but will help you get through hard times.”
“I don’t have a mental illness. I’m being forced to do this, and I don’t think it’s right.”
