Page 58 of S.O.S. Billboard

“Good. Now if you’ll feed the cats while I get our dinner ready, that would be very helpful.”

Billboard almost went off again. He didn’t want to be “helpful”. He wanted to be the man she looked to foranythingshe needed. Hell,everything. He’d take a bullet for her if that’s what was necessary. But somehow, he managed to swallow all the inappropriate responses that sprang to his tongue, and instead, agreed. “Sure. I’ll feed the cats.”

Those five words shouldn’t have been so difficult.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Billboard had an epiphany. He was never going to figure this out on his own. He needed to call his therapist. Doctor Ed had told him if he found himself in a mental emergency, he could contact her using her private number. He’d never been tempted before, but tonight, he needed backup that only she could provide.

As he and O’Shea walked into his house, both cats greeted them with meows and purrs. Billboard squatted down and patted the pair, as did O’Shea.

Why couldn’t human interaction be as simple as a scratch behind the ears?

Without another word being spoken between them, he and O’Shea walked into the kitchen where O’Shea started pulling things out of the refrigerator and cupboards. Billboard grabbed the cat food, opened the can, and spooned food into bowls while both cats wove around his ankles. Once he’d placed their food on the mat O’Shea had purchased, he stared down at them, gulping their supper, until he could form words.

“I, uh, need to go make a phone call,” he finally scraped out.

“Take your time,” O’Shea said breezily. “Food will take at least a half hour.”

Billboard grunted and headed for his office where he closed the door. He looked at his phone contacts, gazing at the one saying,Doctor Ed, private. Could he really do this? Reach out for help at an unscheduled time?

Trying not to overthink things, he hit her number.

“Billboard,” the answer came swiftly and cheerfully. “I didn’t expect you’d ever use this number, but might I say that I’m happy you have?”

“Why?” he grunted.

“Because it means you’re learning to reach out when you need help.”

Billboard figured she had a point. “Yeah, well… I need your help.”

“Okay.” Doctor Ed got down to business. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Billboard described the clusterfuck of the last few days, leaving nothing out, and not whitewashing what he’d done. When he was finished, telling her that O’Shea was ready to moveto a different location, he waited anxiously for her to give him a solution.

“Why do you think you’re angry?” she asked.

He should have figured the doc wouldn’t just bail him out.

Billboard huffed. “Because I behaved cluelessly. I have no right to consider O’Shea as mine.”

Doctor Ed laughed, which is the last thing he’d expected. “Billboard, you know I’m married, right?”

It was a strange question, but he answered it. “Yes. I do,” he replied, perplexed.

“Well, my husband and I, neither of whom have an overbearing bone in our bodies—at least I don’t think we do—always refer to each other in the possessive.” She went on. “Myhusband.Hiswife. It’s a normal part of being in a loving relationship. You can’t help but feel that your partner is your other half, and for whom you are in a lot of ways, responsible.”

Billboard digested that, quietly.

“Just because you want to keep O’Shea safe, doesn’t mean you want to put her in a cage and control her. So, I ask you again. Why are you angry?”

“Because…? Shit. I’m mad at this whole situation. O’Shea is the most independent woman I’ve ever met,” he posited, “and even if she gives me a chance, I don’t know how well I’ll deal with that.”

“Okay. What if I told you to look at your anger, and see if it might not be an emotion you’re taking on to disguise another.”

“Like…?” Billboard scowled, looking out the window at his back yard. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

“Let me put it another way,” she stated firmly. “What do you think O’Shea will do if you go what you consider all ‘caveman’ on her?”

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