Page 6 of Ice
“Ice?”
Her voice, and my name… I was surprised by how well they went together. My name sounded sexier from her lips, instead of pathetic, and worthless.
“What the fuck do you think you know about road names, or being in an MC? Let me guess, you watched some TV show, and think you know everything about our fucking lives. Trust me, Doctor, you don’t know shit.”
She shrugged, maintaining that annoyingly calm façade.
“If you think the bravado is going to push me away, or make me give up on you, you should know that I’m used to it. I’m used to people coming in here, and resenting me, for dedicating mylife to helping people with their issues. I’m used to them yelling at me. I’m used to them threatening me. Hell, I’ve even been punched before. It’s not like this is intimidating me in any way. And for the record-”
“Someone fucking punched you?Who?”
She frowned. “That’s irrelevant. I’m trying to explain that I’m used to anger, and frustration, and desperation. It’s expected, and I’m prepared for it. I’ll accept that it’ll be aimed firmly at me, and I’ll deal with the consequences.”
“Who fucking punched you?” Suddenly it was all I could think about. She might be annoyingly calm, and likely to drive me nuts with this shit, but she didn’t deserve some asshole hitting her. If there was one thing I wouldn’t tolerate, it was men hitting women.
“Ice, I told you, that’s none of your business. I appreciate your outrage on my behalf, but it’s part of the job.”
“Then maybe you should get a new fucking job.” I was standing now, because sitting wasn’t working for me. Along with that lethargy that had settled into my fucking bones, there was also an agitation, an edginess. Sitting still just seemed to make it worse.
“Ice, please, sit down. Talk to me. You don’t have to face this alone.”
I turned to glare at her, my fingers pulling at my hair, because it still felt wrong. It still felt like it wasn’t mine, and with that movement, yeah,pain. The ever-present fucking pain. Not the pain I felt because of my addiction. The pain that caused it in the first place. The pain that never let up, unless I was out of my fucking face on something. Yeah… the pain I’d never told a fucking soul about.
Some days it was hard to ride when it flared up. Some days… Jesus, some days riding was fucking agony, and who in an MCdoesn’t ride? Huh? Nobody.You don’t ride, you’re out. That’s how it works.
Lissa
Itshouldn’thavebeenso sexy, the way he showed anger at my being mistreated by other patients. It shouldn’t have made me want him. Maybe I’d just pushed myself to the limit recently. I’d taken on four new patients. Four, in a week. I was taking appointments whenever they were requested. Late into the evening. Early in the morning. Hell… today, I cancelled a dinner date with a friend, to be here for this. Because my feeling was that when a person needed to talk, they should talk. Not wait days for an opportunity, to try and put themselves back in the place they’d been in, when they first asked for help.
“Ice, please.” His attitude had changed. He was angrier than he’d been just moments ago. It was actually unnerving, and despite my own bravado of earlier, it made me nervous of him.
“You don’t get it. Nobody will get it. It’s the way it had to be. It’s… I need the escape it gives me. The freedom. The… the relief… It’s… and they’ll kick me out… if they know. I always thought my addiction would be the reason they’d throw me out. I mean, they don’t mind drugs, as long as we don’t get reliant, but I’m fucking reliant. Some days I can hardly…” He suddenly blinked, like he’d forgotten where he was, and had just crashed back into awareness. He dragged his hands down his face again, agitation in every minute movement.
“Uh… is my time up yet?”
I stood up, because he clearly wasn’t going to sit down again, and I felt less vulnerable that way.
“Do you want your time to be up?”
To say his response was a withering look, would be putting it mildly. Did he mean something different when he wanted his time to be up? Was this more about an existential dilemma, rather than the one I was trained to help him with?
“Ice, what do you hope to achieve from today, and any future sessions with me?”
He frowned. “I have to do this more than once? Fuck’s sake, of course he’ll expect that. He’s so fucking sure this is something I can beat, and I’m just as sure that he’s wrong.”
My heart ached for him.He was like a lost little boy.
“Ice… it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Coming to see me could be a way to let out everything you don’t want your brothers in the club to see. Brothers is the right word, I think?”
He stepped closer to me, his hands clenching and releasing.
“I’ll ask you again why you think you know about our fucking lifestyle.”
I swallowed hard. It wasn’t my place to share information about me, in fact, it could be incredibly dangerous, but it seemed like it might help him trust me.
“Well… I’m not sure this is your business, but my father was in a club. Uh… president of one, actually.”
His eyes widened. “Which club?”
