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“Stella, mental health is no laughing matter.”
If I said so myself, I had her snooty tone down pat as I parroted the psychiatrist’s earlier words back.
Stella smirked back. “That’s devious as shit if you’re sitting here to fuck with her.”
“Not really.” I could feel my face fall. “I have to pass a psych eval in order to return to work.”
“I wasn’t aware Tweak put such strict measures in place.”
She had to be fucking with me.
“What?”
“You don’t belong here, and you know it. Just look at you. Have you even showered today cause you look like shit.”
Her assessment of my abysmal appearance was spot on. Showering had been beyond me, and I wasn’t even sure if I’d brushed my hair. About the only thing that was fresh on me was my teeth, cause even in my comatose state I needed to have some standards.
“Nice to know I can pull off homeless chic with a side of depressed.” Her lips twitched, and I hated to disappoint her, but one of us had to have our feet on solid ground. “You’re my best friend, my only one really besides Cherry, but I can’t go back to the club. I can’t see Hunter knowing that he doesn’t want me. Watch him move on when I’ll never be able to.”
“That’s hilarious and a little delusional.” She raised an eyebrow. “What about Hunter’s psycho obsessive personality makes you think he’s likely to move on?”
I looked down at my hands. “He doesn’t love me. It’s over.”
From beside me, I heard the psychiatrist’s pen tapping her note pad. “Do you love him?”
What kind of stupid question was that? You couldn’t make a man love you. Especially not one who wasn’t capable of it. It was pointless to sit around and try.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.”
She sounded exasperated, not that I blamed her. We both knew I’d been a less than an ideal patient today, and that was before my best friend hijacked our session.
“Yes.”
The answer didn’t require any thought. Again, not that it mattered.
“Then go back to this club and be with him.”
Her answer was surprising. Maybe I really had gotten a shrink that was off her rocker.
“Dr. Weston, I hate to tell you this, but that’s horrible advice. Hunter isn’t capable of loving anyone and he let me go, not the other way around.”
She tapped her pen on the lined notebook as she crossed her legs. “Was this Hunter not the one you were speaking of earlier? The only one who could touch you? There were some other things said that are best left unrepeated.”
“Yes,” I sighed, feeling more exhausted than I did when I came in here. Again, not that any of this mattered.
“You obviously experienced some sort of trauma that caused your body to shut down. If he made it start up again, so to speak, there has to be a reason. I think you owe it to yourself to explore what it was about him that allowed you to feel safe enough to entrust him with your body.”
When I looked over at Stella, deep lines had etched themselves into the space between her brows. It touched something deep down inside of me I thought was lost.
“I don’t know what went wrong between you two, but it’s clear you’re both miserable. Don’t be like me, take that leap, and go talk to Hunter. Regret won’t keep you warm at night, and it for damn sure can’t make you happy.”
“He’s miserable?”
It was shitty that I sounded so hopeful when I asked, but I had to know.
“Tweak said he only comes to the clubhouse for church and then leaves again right after. If anyone tries to talk to him about anything other than club business, even Pops, he walks away. At first the guys assumed he was always away on”—she looked over at the psychiatrist and then back at me—“family business. But now Tweak wonders if he just can’t stand being in the clubhouse.”
