Page 57 of Always

I feel no resentment about it.

I love her. I need her.

But in the end, wemustwork out.

We must.

Because I need her. I can’t live without her.

And Ialwayssurvive.

Chapter Twenty

After my workout and cold plunge Tuesday morning, I check my phone and find a new post on Skye’s Instagram.

Love my Susie Girl tinted moisture! Get your glow on! #sponsored #susiegirl #susieglow

Skye’s photo is a selfie—right out of the shower and dressed in a pink tank top, her hair still wet. Her lips are puckered as if she’s blowing a kiss to her audience. And yeah, her skin is actually glowing. I don’t think she’s wearing any other makeup.

I flash back to Addie’s posts for Bean There Done That. The woman despises the smell and taste of coffee, yet she takes all kinds of money from the company to advertise their drinks and she has no qualms about doing so.

Addie is fake, but Skye is the real thing. She’s not afraid to post a photo of herself after a bad day or a photo of herself with bedhead. Makes her all the more adorable.

God, I love that woman.

I need her to figure this shit out.

And in the meantime…

Maybe I have some shit to figure out as well. Maybe Skye had a point when she said I went to Kansas for myself.

My therapist is actually here in New York, which works well to maintain my privacy. My monthly appointment isn’t for another two weeks, but I’ve got a few hours this morning, so I call his office.

“Dr. Avery’s office,” a perky voice says.

“This is Braden Black,” I say. “Does the doc have any time this morning?”

“I’m afraid not. He can see you over lunch.”

“I have a lunch meeting. Are you sure he can’t squeeze me in?”

Tapping of computer keys comes through the phone.

“I don’t see any cancellation— Wait, yes. One just came in. Can you be here at ten?”

“That’s perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

…

“Braden, good to see you.” Dr. Bennett Avery waves me into his office. “This is unexpected.”

“Yeah, Doc. I was in town and thought I could use some…guidance.”

“I’m always here. Have a seat.”

I sit in the leather recliner while Dr. Avery faces me on his wingback chair. He’s very casual, and we’re on a first name basis, though I just call him Doc.

Doc leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers over his stomach. He’s grown the beginnings of a beard since I last saw him—salt-and-pepper gray. “What kind of guidance can I give you?”

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