Page 10 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
Once again, I’ve said the wrong thing because anger flares behind her eyes. “I don’t want your pity, Jackson. You don’t owe me anything. You should go.” Camille grabs the edge of the door, and I watch any hope of being with her again vanish in front of my eyes.
“Please, Cami,” I croak, refusing to step out of the way even as she glares. “I miss you so fucking much. Everything feels wrong without you. We need you.”
“We? Last time I checked, River wanted me out of your lives so badly that he got me fired.” Angry tears spilldown her cheeks. “I tried, Jackson, but he made certain I’ll never be a part of your pack.”
The vitriol dripping in her voice shocks me, so it takes me a moment to focus on her words. “What do you mean? I thought you left because he bonded you without your knowing what it meant. He told us you got fired because of that.”
Camille scoffs, shaking her head. “And you believed him? If that were the issue, we could’ve figured it out. But he turned me in. Must’ve realized the moment he got a link into my head that he’d made a mistake and wanted to get rid of me as fast as possible. Or maybe it was some fucked up trick from the start.” Camille’s lip quivers as she tries to hold back more tears. “I-I don’t know why, and I don’t care. He wanted me gone, so I am.”
Questions spiral in my mind in a flurry. Did he lie to us? Is that why he was so upset? River would never be that cruel, would he? He wanted the bond. He wanted her. Or was that him hiding his feelings from us again?
“You should g-go home and talk to him about it.” Her voice wavers, and her eyes drop to the floor. “You should go.”
There’s another stabbing pain in my heart at the mention of talking to River. I don’t know why I assumed she knew. How could she know when we haven’t spoken in months? She closed herself off as well as he did.
“He left.” The lump in my throat almost prevents me from saying the words aloud.
Camille’s mouth falls open. “W-what?”
“River moved out. He’s gone.”
5
“I’d liketo discuss your arthritis today, if that’s alright with you.”
I blink back at the absolute fridge of an alpha sitting in the chair across from me, taken aback by the strange choice of topic. Last week we did a deep dive into the things I want to make amends for, so I was bracing myself for more of the same.
Dr. Mike’s meaty legs cross in a casual posture as he waits for my reply. I rub my hands reflexively, which have been giving me a lot of trouble since I started my new job and spend a lot more time typing than I did before.
“Is it that obvious I’m in pain today?” I ask with a small, self-effacing chuckle.
My therapist smiles that damn inscrutable, calm way he always does and shakes his head. “Not at all. Are you in pain right now?”
I laugh again. “A better question would be, when am I not in pain? But I’m fine. I’m used to it.”
Dr. Mike nods. “Would you say you’re good at masking any outward signs of pain?”
“Yeah, definitely. I don’t like broadcasting my discomfort if I can help it. Maybe it’s some alpha toughness nonsense.”
Dr. Mike shifts in his seat, eyes narrowing a fraction. I’m glad he’s not the kind of therapist that takes notes after every other word that comes out of my mouth like the last one I tried, but I can still tell when I’ve said something he wants to latch onto.
“Hmm, that could definitely be part of it.”
“But not all of it.” I meant to say it as a question, but it comes out as a statement.
“What else do you think might contribute?”
A tiny alarm bell chimes in my head, one I often get when this annoyingly astute man starts narrowing in on something that’s going to read me with a scorching level of accuracy. That’s what I pay him for, but damn, it doesn’t make my alpha bristle any less.
I shrug, unable to think of anything. That happens a frustrating amount during our sessions, like my brain would rather go blank than examine what I subconsciously know is going on. “Um… hmm… I’m not sure.”
The alpha across from me gives me a half smile that says he expected that answer from me. “Mind if I throw out a few potential things?”
“Be my guest,” I say, keeping my tone light, knowing I’m walking into his trap.
“For some people with chronic pain, they don’t want to show it because they’re embarrassed. Some don’t like to acknowledge to themselves that they’re in pain, so masking to others is a byproduct of that.” His eyes soften as he goes in for the kill. “Some people learn from a young age that they need to keep their issues to themselves, either because it’s not socially acceptable to complain or they get negative responses whenthey mention their pain. And many people hide their pain because they don’t want to be a burden.”
Well, fuck.
