Jonas
Manhattan, New York
Istayed in Seattle for several weeks, and once everything was set in motion, I returned to New York City. I made sure to check in on CHG Seaport, and as I had suspected, Leeann was running a very successful restaurant. Kenzie thought she had simply earned the contract because she’d slept with Oliver, but her qualifications and skills were what ultimately landed her the job.
Oliver swore up and down that he hadn’t slept with any of the contestants, and I hadn’t known whether to believe him or not. In the end, it didn’t matter because the next qualified contestant had walked back out of my life and I hadn’t heard from her since. The guilt I still harbored was surely a cause for my recent mood swings and headaches. I had broken down and discussed a little about my symptoms. After Kristopher sent me for an MRI but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary on it, he actually suggested I seek professional help.
I had laughed him off at first, but then I would think of Kenzie and the way I had destroyed her not once, but twice. There had to be something fundamentally wrong with me. I was so racked with guilt over everything that had gone down between us, so much so that I was a shell of myself. I hadn’t gotten laid in almost two months, and really had no desire to do so, either. If that wasn’t a sign I needed a shrink, then I didn’t know what was.
Talking to a therapist back in Washington helped, and I had seen her twice upon my return to Manhattan. The woman was a godsend in our circle, many of the Titans utilizing her services for either themselves or their loved ones. Since I had forged a bit of a relationship with her from across the country, it hadn’t been as awkward as I had anticipated it would be once we finally met in person.
“You have an addiction, Jonas,”she had told me, and when I arched my brow, she continued. “A sexual addiction, and one I think was likely forged via the sexual molestation you experienced as a teenager.”
I had laughed at her initial diagnosis. “I like to have sex every day, so of course it’s an addiction. Tell me something I don’t already know.”
And she did. The doctor gave me several pamphlets to read over. She also told me I could get inpatient treatment, or even do a twelve-step program. I couldn’t stand in front of a group and discuss my long and lengthy sexual history. Hell, I never even considered it a problem until I had reunited with Kenzie. We finally settled on individual therapy with her, and anti-depressants.
She’d wanted to be careful, so she’d gone over my recent bloodwork I had taken before the MRI. I honestly had thought the term was a joke, but after being diagnosed with it and forced to understand how it impacted the lives of those around us, I began to take it seriously. Kenzie’s words about being poked and prodded by psychiatrists hadn’t just been for her. I was now experiencing what she did, and I had a better understanding of what she went through. I think by the third or fourth session, I had finally begun to experience empathy for another human being, which had also been a first for me.
People’s marriages ended over this sort of addiction, and it led to diseases and other serious ramifications for others. I supposed in a way, I was lucky. I would then think about all those that had tangled with me and been left with a different impression, and it made me see the error of my ways. Did I still want sex? More than my next breath, but I didn’t need it. I was finally starting to separate the two.
I’d cleared my hard drive of all pornographic material, and even when at the Vault, I didn’t go home with waitresses or dancers as I once had. Part of learning how to live with this addiction was by making changes to my life, and in order to do that, I had to think more and react with my cock less. It’d been a daunting task for sure, but I needed to kick this disease.
I did masturbate quite frequently, and no matter who I thought about or used for motivation, one face kept appearing in my dreams. Kenzie. I obviously wanted to fuck her. She was so damn hot that half of the city likely did, but I had learned that I actually wanted more than the physical. I wanted the intimacy that not only came with sex, but from the closeness we once shared. It was a closeness I had never taken the time to experience with anyone else.
I had fallen in love with her all those years before, then allowed my subconscious fear to hide it. I had fooled myself into believing love was stupid... was some sort of weakness... was for anyone else but me. I now understood what Paisley was to Caspian, Elsa to Anton, and Rhyann to Mason. Hell, even Kristopher had fallen in love with Hayley Banks. All of my friends, these men I had looked up to and respected, all had what I had never even realized I wanted. They had found their “one” and I was too stupid to have realized I had found mine, too.
“Growth takes time, but you’re doing very well, Jonas. One of these days, you’re going to need to tell Kenzie what you’re telling me,”the doctor had advised at the end of today’s session, and I shook my head.
“I’ve hurt her enough. If I keep reopening her wound, the scab will never heal.”
I had tried to justify myself, and lack of action, but she simply flashed me one of those knowing smiles. “Or she could feel the same way and you’re wasting precious time that you two could be using to finally be happy with one another.”
I hadn’t been sure of that, but her advice still rang in my head as I exited her office. I had walked to the psychiatrist’s office because my penthouse was just three blocks away on Park Avenue. I was still thinking about what she said and imagining what Kenzie’s response would be to anything I would tell her, when I walked right into someone.
“I’m sorry,” I told the woman, then extended my hand to help her off of the ground.
“Fucking douchebags not watching where they are going and...” The woman then looked up and stopped mid-sentence before quickly regaining her composure. “Oh, it’s—”
“The douchebag,” I offered up, and she flashed me a hint of a smile.
“You’re not wrong about that,” Reece told me. “You really should watch where the fuck you’re going.”
I hadn’t seen Kenzie’s best friend and sous chef since the competition ended. Both women had left before I could even announce the result. It was obvious Reece had heard about our fight. I let out a breath, then smiled. “You’re right.”
“What? I am?” she asked, genuinely surprised I had agreed with her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, other than wounded pride.” She then smiled wryly, and went to move around me.
I lightly grabbed her arm and before I even knew what I was about to do, I heard myself ask, “Do you want to have coffee?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I could see where her thoughts had turned, and two months ago, she would’ve been right to be apprehensive. “I really just want to talk.”
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” she continued to hedge as she shifted nervously on her feet.
“How’s Kenzie?” Her eyes shot up at that, and I added, “I’m truly sorry about what happened at Seaport between us. I was hoping you could pass along a message to her, and perhaps an invitation to hear me out over coffee, too.”