Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4)

“Do you think we can be friends?” I ask, praying she’ll say no, that she wants more. Yet, because I care for her more than anyone else I’ve ever met, I want her to run as far from me as she can because I know I’ll pick right up where we left off and continue to hurt her again and again.

Abby glances down at our hands, then back up at me. “I honestly don’t know, Hawke. I only know I want you in my life, any way I can get you. I don’t want another five, ten years to go by and regret not having any memories together.”

Fuck. I’m going to hurt her again. If this doesn’t shred my own heart first. But I’m selfish. I want her. No matter the cost.

“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Friends.”

Abby tilts her head up to meet my gaze. She squints, a tiny line forming between her eyebrows.

“Where are your glasses?” she asks.

“Oh.” I pat my shirt and remove them from my pocket. “Sadie got a hold of them.”

When I move to put them on, Abby steals them away. “Keep them off.” She must see the hesitation on my face, because she elaborates. “Just for the afternoon.” Abby slips them into my shirt pocket and skims a finger down my cheek. “You have such beautiful eyes. You shouldn’t hide them.” She drops her hands and her cheeks blaze red.

“Okay. Only for today,” I agree. Abby grins, and it’s worth losing my protective armor for a few hours just to see the joy on her face.

Friends. How can I be friends with Abby? The only person on earth besides Gavin who has ever gotten close to me. The only woman I’ve ever allowed to get under my skin and into my fucked-up heart.

I guess I’ll find out, because I’ll do everything I can to make her mine.

Abby

“So, Justin, tell me how you did this week?” I pull out my pen and notepad and settle into one of the cozy chairs in my office.

The nineteen-year-old man across from me fidgets, his eyes darting around the room, landing on anything but me.

“Not so good, but I’m… I’m trying, Dr. Kessler.”

“I know you are, Justin.”

I put the pen and paper down on an end table and smooth my hands down my gray pencil skirt. He looks terrible. There are dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Justin’s once shiny blond hair is dingy and limp, as if he hasn’t washed it in a while. He picks at a thread on the hem of his shirt and chews on his lip nervously.

“Are you taking your meds?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I was feeling so good, Dr. Kessler.” Justin fists his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as if in agony. “I hate the way they make me feel, empty inside. I thought… I thought…”

I watch, my heart filled with sorrow for the pain and confusion that plagues this once vibrant young man.

“It’s the mania, Justin. It will make you feel invincible, but we’ve discussed this. It’s not real and can be very dangerous. You have to take your meds even when you feel good.”

His hands slide from his hair and fall slack at his sides. “I know. Yeah, yeah.” He nods, confirming his own words. “I know this, but I can’t stop myself. It’s like I need to clear my head sometimes and the drugs, they mess it all up.”

God, he sounds just like Nick.

“I’ll call Dr. Mendel and ask him to discuss your meds. Make sure you schedule an appointment with him.” Dr. Mendel is Justin’s psychiatrist, and a very good one. Justin’s parents are very wealthy and want no expense spared in treating their son.

I sometimes wonder if things with Nick would have turned out different if he had the same resources as Justin. Just as quickly as the thought invades my mind, I shove it out. Medicines for mental illnesses have come a long way in the last ten years. Imagining the “what ifs” never does any good.

“Okay, Dr. Kessler.” Justin nods, still worrying his lip with his teeth.

“Now, relax, close your eyes, and tell me how your week has gone.”

By the time my day is over and I fight traffic to get home, I’m a frazzled mess. Days like this throw me off balance, sometimes taking me until the following week to recover. Usually, my bad days involve Justin and the haunting memories of Nick.

I open a bottle of wine and pour myself a large glass. Once I’ve kicked off my heels and changed into jeans and a light blouse, I sink into the soft couch with my drink.

The ocean is a dark shade of grayish-green today, the waves foamy and the surf rough. There’s not a single person on the long stretch of beach in front of my cottage. Not surprising since it’s cloudy and the sky is ominous, threatening to unleash a rare rainstorm.