Page 23 of Revelry
Okay, he didn’t ask me to do that last one, but it was implied when he said go out on a date and have a good time. He was constantly trying to get me to have a good time. Just like Gertrude, she wanted me to have fun. Why didn’t anyone understand that I was happy the way I was?
Are you?
I huffed at my intrusive thoughts and shoved them out of my mind, along with the urge to peek out the window again to see what Gertrude was doing now. But I never had been good at controlling my impulses. That was why I needed to see a therapist.
I looked out just in time to see her strip off her top and throw it to the ground. Her skin shone in the early fall sunshine, creamy smooth, flawless and my tongue ached to trace over it. I groaned, watching her dance around in her sports bra and tiny black denim shorts with edges as frayed as my control.
“Stop,” I grunted, clicking my fingers three times and tore myself away from the window. I left the house, driving into town to my therapy appointment.
The office was located above the local law firm. There were low-beamed ceilings, and plants decorating each corner. The white walls, bare of decoration, soothed me in a way I couldn’t explain, just like how the untidiness of the coffee table in front of the tattered couch irked me the same way.
“Tate, how have you been?” Dr. Neil Parker asked when I came in. He pulled off his wire-framed glasses and began cleaning them, taking a seat on the couch opposite.
Neil was an older man, his salt-and-pepper hair still thick and swept back off his forehead. Deep lines fanned around his mouth and eyes as evidence of a good life full of laughs.
The thing about Neil is, he’s kind of a dick. He could be harsh sometimes. His methods were occasionally questionable, and he didn’t take any shit from me. But this is also why I liked him and I’d made more progress with him than anyone else. So I put up with it.
I stared at the magazines strewn across the coffee table in abandon, trying so hard not to tidy them.
“Fine, I guess. And yourself?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah fine,” he replied, repositioning his glasses.
I leaned forward to scratch my leg and discreetly straightened a GQ magazine that had some random strawberry blonde-haired billionaire businessman on the cover.
“So, how did you get on with your tasks?” Neil asked.
“Real good,” I lied.
He tsked and looked away. “Tell me about them?”
I coughed into my fist. “Erm, well I had some drinks with a friend last week.”
“Which friend?”
“Um…Jack.”
Neil shot me a skeptical look. “Is that Jack Drayton? The guy who recently came out of prison?”
I nodded, suddenly hating small town life. I’d forgotten that everyone would know who Jack was. “Yep.” I tugged at my jeans, loosening them off my legs and reached forward to tidy another magazine, bringing it flush with the edge of the coffee table. I pushed out a satisfied breath.
“Didn’t realize you knew him?”
“Yeah well, he’s trying to adjust to life outside and works at Redemption Ranch, so I bumped into him there.”
“Great,” he said, clapping his hands together, eyes dropping to the magazines but not saying anything. He sat back against the couch and rested one ankle over the opposite knee. “What about fun? What have you done?”
“I’ve been to the bar a couple of times. Horseback riding. I went for a hike.” I could practically feel my nose growing.
“Hmm,” Neil said, then looked me right in the eye as he nudged both the magazines I’d tidied with his foot. I clenched my teeth, my jaw cracking. “Did you go on any dates? Ignore any impulses?”
My cheeks flushed as I concentrated on the magazines. “Not yet but I’m working on it.”
“Well at leastthatwas a truthful answer,” he replied, and my eyes snapped to his. He knew I was bullshitting but he wasn’t mad, a small smile played at his lips. He stood up and went over to the window, pulling his glasses off.
“Why don’t you want to be helped, Tate?”
I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. “I do.” I reached forward to tidy the magazines again.
