Page 29 of Bones

I lean down, slow enough to wait for any sign she’s uncomfortable, and press a soft kiss to the crown of her hair. “Of course, love.”

I don’t bother with a farewell to Paul. The fucker doesn’t deserve shit from Sloan, let alone her phone number. But I won’t control her. Though if she wants to meet up with him, I don’t think I’ll be able to let that happen. Some things are too far for me when it comes to my mate.

She’s silent and withdrawn the entire way to my bike, accepting my help onto the bike with a murmured thank you. I pull out my phone and message Stubs asking him to find everything he can about Paul. I want to know what his fucking favorite cerealis and what underwear he wears. Everything. I start the bike, the engine roaring for me when I can’t. Sloan holds on to me, pressing herself against my back as I ride away.

That cold gulf between us is still there.

18

SLOAN

The soft whirl of the overhead fan is the only sound in Dr. Grayback’s office. She’s sitting across from me, elegantly casual in her black cigarette pants and royal blue sleeveless blouse. Her silvered hair is pulled back in a French twist, her face framed by a single lock floating down to her jaw. I know she’s watching me, one leg crossed over the other and a plain white mug of tea cradled in her hands.

After encountering Paul, Bones decided to call off the assignment in Tyler. I barely remember him taking us back to our hotel room and packing our things. Vague memories of him arguing with someone on the phone while I sat, useless, at the end of the bed. I let him take over completely; going where he guided me, eating what he put in front of me, wearing the jacket he told me to, just . . . everything.

It’s like I’ve been catapulted back in time. Back to when Father Xavius had told me Paul had moved to another compound after months of him distancing himself. My heart, already aching from what I witnessed and forced to participate in as a Light Justiciar, had finally broken apart like a too-cracked window. I’dbeen abandoned by the man I believed to be the love of my life, whom I believed loved me just as much in return; left all alone in the place that was slowly becoming my own personal hell.

“I remember the night he’s talking about,” I croak out, my mouth unexpectedly dry. I can’t bring myself to look at Dr. Grayback; or anyone. I’ve reverted to what she tells me are survival adaptations and I don’t know how to break out of them right now. I’m grateful that Bones got me in to see her the very next morning after our return, even if I can’t yet bring myself to say that to him.

She doesn’t say anything giving me the space and acceptance to take all the time I need. I stare at where the cream colored carpet meets the pale espresso painted walls below the picture window.

“I was in my dorm room and he knocked on the door, telling me he needed to speak to me.” I’m reciting the memory like it’s happened to someone else. It’s easier that way. “I’d just seen him earlier that day, talking with another woman. When I’d said hello to him, he ignored me. Worse, actually. He looked at me like I was nothing and then put his arm around the other woman’s back and left. So I refused to open the door.”

“You were hurt.”

I take a deep breath, looking down at my legs where I start to worry at a loose thread along a seam of my leggings. I know my decision to wear the most simple clothing I have is connected to this dissociation.

“I think I was angry,” I admit quietly. “He told me he loved me. I left everything for him. I was starting to learn what actually went on at the place he’d brought me. Then he just walked away like I was nothing.”

“You can be angry and hurt,” Dr. Grayback reminds me gently.

I nod, more out of acknowledgement than agreement, still twisting and moving the loose black thread. “I think I was hurt later, but when he knocked on my door and demanded I let him in, I wanted him to feel what it was like to be completely ignored as if he didn’t exist.” I remind myself to breathe. “And then, hearing him yesterday just. . . “

“Triggered you.”

“Yeah.” I brave bringing my gaze up to hers. I appreciate how there’s no pity there. I wouldn’t know what to do with it right now. “Now I keep thinking: what if I’d opened that door? What if he did still love me? What if he thought I’d hurt him first so that’s why he ignored me? What if I’d gone with him? Would Father Xavius have let me leave? Logically, knowing what I do now, I don’t think so. But it’s hard to not wonder if I screwed myself by being angry.”

She tilts her chin in understanding. “What if’s can be dangerous when we let them control us. It’s completely natural though. Since you’ve been triggered, has anything pulled you out of this compulsive thinking?”

I hesitate and she must realize I’m holding something back, since she tilts her head. I chew my lower lip, not sure if I can bring myself to admit that the only time I was able to stop thinking was when Bones held me and kissed my lips so gently. She changes direction, giving me a pass for now but I know she’ll come back to it. Even before Paul’s re-appearance, I’d wanted to talk to her about relationships. Now, I can’t avoid the topic.

“Have you considered Paul might have been lying?”

The gray shield around me grows thin and brittle at her unexpected question; as if it’s struggling to exist as Dr. Grayback rocks the base of my reality. I clear my throat and reach for the chamomile tea that has been sitting untouched since the beginning of the emergency appointment. “What do you mean?” I feel stupid for asking. I hide behind the tea, taking a swallow of the lukewarm beverage.

Dr. Grayback sets her tea on the small chair table beside her, uncrossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. “It’s natural to assume Paul is telling you the truth. He was your first abuser, Sloan. He groomed you when you were a teenager and took you away from your support system. He’s trained you to believe everything he says. But I want you to take some time and consider that he might be lying.”

My forehead furrows as I struggle to do as she asks. The cognitive dissonance takes my mind in a siege. Butterflies are committing violence in my gut as every other thought screams in denial of her suggestion. I want to move, to run, to refuse to consider that Paul would do this. I can’t move though, my skin is frozen and I exhale shakily. Slamming my eyes shut, I focus on my breathing and grounding myself in the present with her. When I can open my eyes again, I start cataloging things in the room to pull me back from edge of a panic attack.

I physically feel my heart aching at the thought of Paul lying to me, so I latch on to a different--safe--thought.

“Bones didn’t trust him.” Talking about his reaction slowly thaws my muscles. “He got me out of there as fast as he could. Then he brought us home.” My voice was stronger, more confident. “I--I think Bones thinks he was lying.”

Dr. Grayback holds my gaze. “Do you think he could be lying?”

I lift a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I guess. I just don’t know why he would.”

She watches me, her patience evergreen and bottomless. I force myself to turn her words over in my head, breathing hard through the instinct to deny it. I blink rapidly, eyes darting to hers. “To draw me back to him?”

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