Page 16 of Rock On

“You let him manhandle you enough to leave bruises?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

Good thing she hadn’t noticed my throat.

“It’s not a big deal,” I lied. “We’ve had sex like that a million times.”

“When you were together.” She eyed me. “But you haven’t even talked to him since the divorce, much less slept together.”

“It just happened,” I said slowly. “We were arguing when I fell off a tree branch and landed on top of him. The minute we touched it was like someone lit a match.”

She frowned at me. “You know that’s fucked up, right?”

“Yeah.” I turned away, holding my coffee mug with both hands, hoping it would warm me.

“Harley, I love you, but seeing you like this… you and Tommy need to talk and clear the air. He’s obviously got a lot of pent-up emotions happening too.” She paused. “So… you did it right out in the open?”

My lips quirked up a little. “Yeah. Against a tree.”

She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “You two have never had any boundaries.”

Oh, we’d had boundaries.

Until we didn’t.

“It was a lapse in judgement on a tough day.”

“It’s a pattern of behavior,” she said. “And it scares me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. The drinking. The weight loss. Staying in bed for days at a time. Forgetting to pick River up from preschool?—”

“That was one time!” I protested.

“Whenever I’m home to watch the baby, all you do is sleep. You rarely see your friends. And the last two guys you slept with—that I know of—both hurt you.”

I swallowed back a biting remark because I knew she only wanted what was best for me.

“You also stopped seeing your therapist.”

“She wasn’t helping,” I replied.

“Then find a new one, because you need help, Harley. The main person who’s going to be impacted if you don’t is River. He needs you.”

I pursed my lips. “I’m fine. Yes, I’ve been a little depressed, but my best friend and father of my child killed himself. Am I supposed to move on like it never happened?”

“No, you’re supposed to find healthy coping mechanisms and/or a support group to help you through the grieving process. It’s been over a year, and instead of getting better, it’s getting worse.”

I sighed.

“Can we just eat?” I asked, walking back into the kitchen.

We sat at the table, and I handed River his plate.

“Mommy has a boo-boo,” he said, putting one small, chubby finger on my wrist.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, suddenly choked up. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He was only three, but he’d already started to notice things.

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