Page 38 of Reluctantly You

Gideon drops me off at my place with a serious look on his face.

“We start over today,” he tells me, his hand moving to my wrist, burning me where his fingers meet my skin. “Everything else doesn’t matter. Moving forward, do better.”

I just meet his stern gaze and let those words slowly sink into me.

“Yeah. Sure.” It’s not that easy, but I’ll give him platitudes to get him off my back.

“Are you going to be okay today?” he asks, and I nod.

“I’ll be fine. I’m always fucking fine.”

He watches me intently. “You should call the psychologist. I left his number on the fridge.”

“Yeah, will do,” I reply, with no intention of doing that. We never believed in therapists or psychologists growing up, a bunch of mind voodoo my dad called it. And that mindset stuck. What good can they do? Am I supposed to talk about feelings I don’t possess? I don’t fucking know.

As I make my way into the house, the cat moves up to me and rubs against my ankles, meowing loudly, annoyed that I’d left.

“Yeah, well, I fucking fed you already, you asshole.”

But then I give it some treats, pulling up a nearby vet on my phone so I can get this little shit some shots. Don’t want to get rabies. Don’t need to die yet.

I may have wanted to end it yesterday, but I’m back again, a flicker of anger over Gideon fueling me. He has the perfect life, the perfect job. Probably even has a family who loves him. I want a fucking smidge of that, just a taste. And maybe, if I work hard enough, I can have that too.

Yeah, that’s it. It’s nothing more than the desire to get back some of what I lost. And a need to do whatever it is to get it back.

I make an appointment for the cat and schedule it into my calendar. Tomorrow at noon, I take Little Shit Pants to the vet for vaccinations and a checkup. For my own safety. That’s all.

I make my way to my bedroom and change for work, trying to amp myself up to work hard today, or at least to do better than I was before.

Little Shit Pantaloons cries loudly when I start to make my way out and I debate bringing it with me. Maybe Shiloh would enjoy taking care of it while I attend those boring-ass meetings. But then again, the cat is a lot of work, so maybe not.

Be better,I think on the drive to work.

I can be a little better. Not much, but a tad. I can try.

It’s some positive thinking bullshit, but I’m giving it a go.

I finally make my way into the office with my shoulders squared and my head held high. Fake it until I make it.

I nod at Shondra, who gapes at me, as I’ve never acknowledged her before, and then I say hello to a man with thinning hair and a missing eyebrow. I should know his name, but I never learned it. I never needed to know it. He’s inconsequential.

But like Gideon said. Do better.

I’ll try. For a few minutes, I can try. I won’t last longer than that.

I head into my office and turn on my computer, with five minutes to spare. I hate that I’m early, that his words affected me so much. But him showing up and caring for me, bringing me outside and keeping me company helped. It fucking changed something inside of me. It’s like I could suddenly see through the black smog I had been wrapped in for days. There is now light at the end of the tunnel, as small and insignificant as it may seem.

I may have lost so much through the years, but I still have brothers, half-brothers they may be, but brothers nonetheless. And Magnus responded. It means something, right? That has to mean something. It means I haven’t lost all hope. It means that I can at least be good enough to keep him around.

As soon as nine o’clock hits, I pull up my calendar as a knock resounds on my door.

It opens a second later, and I see Shiloh peering through, a paper coffee cup in his hand.

“Gideon wanted me to give this to you. Motivation, he said.”

He sets it on my desk, and I stare at it. A vanilla latte. I see it printed neatly on the side of the cup. I can’t believe he did this. For me.

“Thank you,” I say, and Shiloh nods.

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