Page 51 of Finally Home

“This is bullshit, Baby Reid,” Wes says angrily. There’s a murmur of agreement among the players and it brings a smile to my face.

“I don’t disagree with you, but we can’t change their decision, so I’ll make the best of it. And you know I’ll still watch all of your games and root for you from my couch.”

That spurs a round of excited chatter about the upcoming season, and while they’re distracted, I scan the small room, my eyes catching on Jamie near the back. He raises an eyebrow in question, and I scratch the back of my neck, flicking my eyes to the door. He nods in understanding and tells the crowd that we need to go. I’m so thankful he can read me so well.

Seeing so many people go to bat for me has been eye-opening, but also incredibly overwhelming. I’m anxious and emotionally drained and just so tired. I need to crash at Jamie’s for a few hours and then get my butt on a plane back home. It feels like it’s been weeks since I was home with Rhodes and Finn.

It’s time I go see my boys.

CHAPTER 31

RHODES

Wren has been gone for three days, and if it weren’t for the constant updates from my parents and the guys, I would be chomping at the bit to get on a plane and haul her cute ass back home. I’ve taken Finn for long walks on the beach every day after practice, and it’s given me a lot of time to think about everything that’s happened.

My initial anger and frustration have withered away the more I consider why she ran. I thought this video might be the final straw that broke her composure, and based on what my mom said, it looks like I was right.

Wren is, and always has been, olympic-level good at running from her emotions. In college when life got messy, she’d run to the nearest bar and drown her sorrows in vanilla vodka and cream soda and then call me in tears to pick her up.

Unfortunately, she’s now an adult with access to private planes, so she can run much farther than the local college bar. From my talk with Jamie, I know she probably ran because she was scared our relationship would change after that stupid, goddamned video was leaked, but I need her to know that she couldn’t be more wrong.

Yeah, seeing the video sucked. I still feel sick about it, but I feel sick for her. Not because of her. I never expected Wren to remain abstinent but knowing about something and seeing it are two entirely different things. I want to work through my own emotions before she gets home, so I can support her, one-hundred percent.

Today is my first appointment with a psychologist Coach Benny recommended to me, and I’m nervous. I haven’t seen a mental health professional since college when my anxiety was at its worst, and I’ve never met this woman before. We’re starting with a virtual appointment, so I won’t have the added discomfort of a new environment.

It feels kind of stupid to go to therapy for someone else’s problem, especially since the tape being leaked didn’t impact my life as much as hers. But it hurt the woman I love, and it’s probably affecting her mental health. So I want every tool available to help her feel secure.

My laptop pings, which alerts me to an incoming video call, and my muscles tense. I walk to the couch like I’m prepared for battle, every nerve ending on edge and ready to take me down in a synchronized onslaught of panic. I settle into my preferred spot in the corner of the couch and accept the call, doing my best to smile.

The woman on the other end of the metaphorical couch is older with gray hair and a kind smile that immediately puts me at ease. “Hello, Rhodes, my name is Doctor Constance Whitlock, but you can call me Connie or Doc. Whatever you’re most comfortable with is fine with me,” she grins. “I know we talked on the phone about your reasons for starting therapy again, but why don’t you go over it one more time in a little more detail so I have a better idea why you’re here.”

My brows furrow and my head tilts as I stare at her through the screen. “You’re not going to tell me what I need based on what I told you over the phone?” That’s been my experience with psychologists.

She laughs softly. “No, Rhodes, that isn’t how I run my practice. My goal isn’t to diagnose you in an hour or numb your feelings with medication. You already told me you don’t think medication is necessary, so we’ll treat this as maintenance unless you tell me otherwise. Let’s start with the reason you decided to come back to therapy.”

Taking a deep breath, I nod, unsure where to start, but it’s like she reads my mind when her face softens. “If you don’t know where to start, let’s start at the beginning.”

That brings a smile to my face because the beginning of me and Wren is my favorite part.

“Alright, well, eight years ago I met this girl…”

Just shy of an hour later, I have a pint of ice cream in my hand with Finn cuddled up to my side, and Doc is on her second box of tissues.

“And so you see, she’s my angel come to earth, and it kills me that I can’t take away her stress. Add that to the jealousy I feel about the video, and it’s like I’m on a hair trigger, ready to blow at the slightest irritation.”

Wiping under her eyes, Doc takes a minute before she speaks, which I really appreciate. It feels like she cares enough to give me thoughtful advice and not just some generic breathing techniques to regulate my anger or a pill to chill me out.

“I think what you’re feeling is completely normal and even expected after an experience like this,” she says at last. “And Wren being the only one of you in the video doesn’t negate the fact that it made you uncomfortable as well.”

Doc’s unbiased validation of my feelings makes me feel one-hundred pounds lighter. I smile gratefully and rub a hand over the left side of my chest to try and will away the emotional ache. “Thanks for that, Doc. I feel less like a selfish asshole, excuse my language, after getting that all off my chest to someone who isn’t part of this mess.”

She nods sympathetically. “Wren will always be your best friend, and that’s fine! It’s healthy, even. Especially in a relationship like yours that requires more trust than the average relationship with you on the road so much. But you shouldn’t only rely on each other either. It’s important to have unbiased, third-party advice sometimes. That’s why I advocate for therapy even for “healthy” people.” She puts the word healthy in air quotes, making me snort.

A smirk crosses her face, and I’m hit with so much gratitude—to Benny, for recommending Connie, and to the woman herself who is, hands down, the best therapist I’ve ever had.

“You know, Doc, I think you were born to shrink people’s brains. You’re pretty good at it.”

She lets out an infectious, full-bellied laugh, and I laugh with her. But the joy of the moment reminds me that my girl isn’t here, and my heart plummets. She would love Doc. In fact…

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