Page 11 of Broken Heat
I made a mental note to myself that he failed to elaborate. It told me he still surrounded himself with barriers, also normal. Grief was the sort of human response that never actually went away. It might diminish over time, but with those we were very close with, it could leave permanent scars.
I needed to create for Elon a safe environment for him to land. The specific healing for his heats and low libido could not actually begin until he felt secure. It wasn’t just an omega thing, either. Even alphas needed a nest to call their own sometimes.
With his head bowed, the light from the windows shone on his brown hair nearly turning it golden. He kept it neat, tidy, but I could see the ends turned up a bit as if he fought a natural curl.
I felt myself drawn to him, something I hadn’t experienced in three months. I’d utterly failed my last two patients. I had not been able to find my empathy with them. But Elon drew me. It was a good sign for me. And hopefully for him.
Finally, Elon looked up, his fine features holding a firmness that let me know he was not bailing on this therapy at all. His pale blue irises flickered. His pretty lips opened.
“I don’t—I don’t know—” He stopped, swallowing hard.
I waited patiently for him to get the words out.
“Sometimes I find myself forgetting stuff. Like sex with Coah—making love—I know it was, um, sorta great. But I almost can’t remember. Or a part of me doesn’t want to remember because—because—”
He stopped.
I leaned forward. “Because it might hurt?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression like I’m dismissing Coah or something, but it’s hard to remember and think about it. And every day that he fades from my waking thoughts, I think to myself I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward.”
“We can go forward. And we don’t have to go at any pace but yours. We have time.”
“He’s a part of me and always will be. But it’s weird. I’m different. The me without Coah is new. I’m ready for a new life. But I still feel held back sometimes.” He touched his chest.
I had a weird, fleeting thought about cocoons and butterflies, how we are always struggling to get out of the cocoon, and things come along that are setbacks or barriers and we find ourselves repeating the same methods over and over until we finally climb out to face our true self. The self with wings.
And maybe it never truly happened for us. Maybe it wasn’t the goal, but the journey itself that was the reason. The sweetness and the disappointment. The love and the pain. An ongoing tapestry we were compelled to weave.
This wasn’t a one-sided therapy. Senta had paired me with Elon for a reason.
But I wanted to focus on Elon for now before I revealed my own problems. I wanted it to be the right time where my story of my recent failures revealed a vulnerability that he could relate to instead of being worried early on that maybe I was too fucked up to be his surrogate.
“We can work on that held back feeling. And move forward at the same time.” I smiled.
“You seem so sure of yourself. How long did you train for this? Was it weird? Was your training time consuming? Expensive?”
I tried to answer all his questions as honestly as I could. He was very curious, with a sweet energy that was contagious.
We moved to the porch to watch the incoming afternoon storm that poured buckets of rain on our island for about fifteen minutes before passing on as if to say never mind.
With the scent of the rain on our skin and in our throats, we talked about my job. Elon’s questions spurred me on to an enthusiasm that gave me hope I had not lost my heart for this vocation after all.
He was lovely and articulate and I never noticed the time passing until the sky turned lavender at the edges and my stomach growled for dinner.
5
Elon –A World of One
My first day on Omega Island was over, but I couldn’t sleep. I piled the pillows left and right to make myself more comfortable. But I was already physically fine. It was my mind that wouldn’t stop.
I kept thinking of Mykel and our upcoming sessions, how they would change and grow and involve touching. I couldn’t stop my mind from spinning out what-if scenarios.
What I liked so far about Mykel was that he didn’t push. He nudged with friendly thoughts.
But those smiles of his—they were blooming smiles that sometimes I thought were designed to break my heart.
I hadn’t noticed people in that way for a long time. Years. But now Mykel had me thinking about sex. And sex with him. And while that was meant to be part of my therapy, it was startling and new and adventurous for me. And a little scary, too.
