Page 14 of Stitch
“Ice installed a panic button by her chair, sir. If Lissa needs help, she’ll press it to alert me. If she presses and holds, it goes straight to Ice.”
“Sneaky bastard. Okay, good. She shouldn’t be at risk with Stitch, but he’s on edge, more than I’ve ever seen before. I’m gonna head on over, and wait with you for him, just in case.”
As I put the phone down, my hand was trembling. What if Lissa was in danger with Stitch? A further thought hit. She hadn’t pressed the panic button, but what if he’d caught her and stopped her?
Nine
Her office was nice,you know, calming and comfy looking. Nice pictures on the wall. Shit, I knew I was distracting myself rather than focusing on what was actually happening.
Lissa gestured to the leather sofa, and dropped into the seat which was angled beside it. I couldn’t look at her as I sat down. I looked everywhere else instead. There was a discreet box on the wall, with a large button, and it was positioned so she could reach it easily. In the end, lacking anything else to say, I nodded at it.
“Panic button?”
She grimaced. “It’s too obvious, isn’t it? Ice insisted, you know how bossy he can be, I’m sure. It was this or him sitting in the damn corner for every appointment.”
I smirked because I could even hear him saying it in my head, like I’d been there. He hadn’t changed a bit, even with his drug habit hopefully being a thing of the past. He was still a cranky bastard, although… the new look was a change. He’d shaved his head at some point, and clearly liked it, because he was keeping it incredibly short, a very close buzz-cut.
I felt that familiar trickle of fear down my spine, as I considered my own hair. If I had to have treatment, I could lose my hair. I wouldn’t look like me anymore. The thought had nearly led me to shave my own hair off, but in the end I’d settled for shaving my beard away, and instantly hated it. It was taking far too long to growback, but if I had certain treatments, would my beard disappear just like the hair on my head? I’d look like an overgrown baby.
“Stitch?”
I blinked, shaking myself free of my thoughts.
“Sorry. Uh… got a lot going on in my head.”
She inclined her head slightly. Agreement? A royal fucking pardon?
“So, I know a little about what’s going on with you. As in the little bit that Reacher was willing to share, in order for me to know whether I can help you or not-”
“And can you?” My interruption was out of character. Rudeness, particularly against women, isn’t my thing. I try not to even swear too much around them.
She didn’t even react. “I think so. Mostly what I do is listen, Stitch. I let people talk, and they can share as little or as much as they want. Sometimes just saying things out loud is enough to start them on the path to healing. Sometimes it takes more.”
“Healing? Yeah, see I’d love to fucking heal, but it’s not on the cards for me.” See? I’m definitely not myself. Swearing at a woman?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t curse at you.”
She shrugged. “I’m not some delicate flower, Stitch. I don’t take offence. Most people swear when they express themselves, when they dig into their inner thoughts and fears. Just tell me however it comes out. I promise I won’t judge you for any of it.”
Anger came out of nowhere, and I slammed the coffee mug down, as I stood up again, pacing the room as I tried to contain it.
“It’s okay, Stitch.”
“IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY!” I roared back at her, and then I covered my face as I felt the burn of tears in my eyes, as my throat tightened up. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t cry. It doesn’t fix anything.
She was quiet for a while, then she leaned over and calmly poured a glass of water.
“I’d like you to sit down, please, Stitch. Drink some water, and take a few breaths. I don’t think the caffeine was a good idea.”
I fell back onto that sofa like my strength had all disappeared in an instant. Was that how it’d feel when the cancer had eaten up every shred of me from inside,and I was just a husk?
A sob choked out of me, and I covered my face, taking deep breaths.
“That’s good, Stitch. Just breathe slowly, and another. Perfect. Try sipping some water now, please.” I followed her directions, because autopilot was easier. Don’t think, just function.
As I sipped, she poured a glass of her own, and I caught the slight tremble in her hands as she did. I’d scared her. Of course I’d fucking scared her. I’d scaredme.
“I’m sorry.”
