Page 8 of Shadowman
Granted, we’ve only been dating a few weeks and have had no conversations about exclusivity. I knowI’mnot seeing anyone else right now, but I wouldn’t expect her to tie herself down to me. Especially when I feel as though I’m only giving her little bits of myself.
“So Andres has been badgering me again,” Alice tells me while we pick at some appetizers.
“For what?”
“Money, I think.” She licks some sauce off of her fingertip. “I mean, he didn’t say it outright, but I can tell something’s off with him.”
I peer at her. “You think he’s using again?”
Alice shrugs; her attempt at seeming unaffected. But I can tell the idea of her twin brother falling back into old habits hurts her greatly. “I know I’m not supposed to enable him, but it’s hard. He’s all I have, you know?”
I nod, though I have zero experience with how it feels to watch a family member struggling. I have no family, no one close enough to even be consideredfamily adjacent.
On the other side of that, when I struggled in the past with my own issues, I had no one to turn to for help. It was just me and the streets of Manhattan…
In that spirit, I give her all I have to offer on the subject. “If I’d had a sister like you, my life might have ended up very different…” It comes out wistful and reminiscent, because now I’m actually wondering what would’ve happened if someonehadbeen around for me to lean on back then.
Alice slides her hand over mine on the table. I glance down at it, admiring her fingers, slender with perfectly manicured nails painted shimmery black. Her skin color is a contrast to mine because of how pale I am, though we both have tattoos.I like the way our hands look together.
Lifting my eyes to hers, I find her watching me closely. It’s worrying. I have absolutely no idea what she sees when she’s looking at me.
I feel like I’m constantly on edge, wondering if being with Alice is the right thing, forher.
I know it’s right for me, because I care about her greatly, and I want nothing more than to be a permanent fixture in her life. But I just can’t rid myself of the constant fear that simply being with me is going to cause her harm.
Why, though?? I don’t think I would hurt her… I’d certainly never intend to.
“It might not be your choice, mate,”the voice rumbles in my brain, and I close my eyes briefly, ignoring it.
Go away. Not now.
“Is everything alright?” Alice asks, and I blink at her, swallowing.
“Mhm.” I force a grin. “Perfect now.”
She smiles as I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss on her butterfly tattoo.
“Tell me about your day, angel.”
It’s Monday at three, and I’m back at the office of Dr. Lemuel Love, PhD.
I arrived early and wound up pacing outside his building for twenty minutes. I wish I could say this was the first time it’s happened, but it’s not. I look forward to my sessions with Dr. Love, so much so that sometimes it’s all I can think about leading up to my appointment.
I hate to say it, but I rely on him. For comfort, solace, support, and insight. Ever since Riverwoods, when he would show up twice a week and sit in the therapy office with me, in the common area, or even in my room—if it was one of those times I was going nuts and requiring constant supervision.
The staff would advise him against coming in with me, but he’d do it anyway. He isn’t afraid of killers, that’s for sure.No one’s going to tell Lemuel Love who he can and can’t sit near.
Over the years, he’s become my constant.And cards on the table, I do happen to find him unbearably beautiful.
I mean, how could you not??He’s stunning, masculine perfection with just the right amount of detachment; that bored,slightly cold and grumbly persona calling to anyone with Daddy issues like a bloody siren song.
But more than anything, I love that he knows everything about me and isstill here. It almost seems as if he cherishes me. Strictly as a patient, but still. I think he does. I think working with me gives him some satisfaction, and that causes me bunches of complicated feelings I refuse to ever disclose to him.
Knee bouncing rapidly while I wait impatiently, I check the clock on the wall.
Hm… It’s five minutes past three. That’s odd. Dr. Love is never late. For anything.
Squirming in my seat, I think back to the other night, with Alice…
