Page 9 of Yours to Break

“Hi, Dr. Cohen. This is my friend, Oliver,” Lane beamed.

The man, Dr. Cohen, gave me a smile that I was sure was fake. “Ah! Yes, Oliver! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lane’s therapist,” he said, offering an outstretched hand. He wanted to shake my hand?

Nope. No way.

He looked like he would crush all of the bones in my hand if I returned his handshake. I frowned.

I tried to speak as strongly as I could manage. “Hi… Aren’t you breaking client confidentiality by introducing yourself like that? I mean, Lane already mentioned that he was seeing a therapist, but I don’t think you’re supposed to approach him in public like that, right?” His expression tightened, hatred burning in his eyes.

Before Dr. Cohen could respond, a husky, teasing voice filled the room. “Well, doesn’t this little puppy have a big bark?”

Was I the puppy?

It became clear when one of the blonde men appeared at my side, looking down at me. Why was I a puppy? I wanted to ask, but my body was frozen. I felt suffocated; I refused to make eye contact.

To my utter dismay, the man pulled a chair over from a nearby table. The screeching of the chair feet across the floor made me clench my teeth; the high-pitched sound was painful to my already overloaded processing system. Of course, the chair was placed way too close to my own. When the man sat, he spread his legs apart in a show of dominance. I knew it was on purpose that his leg touched my own. The touch made my stomach lurch, but even more disconcerting was that he acted like he didn’t notice the warmth migrating between our skin.

I had no oxygen left in my lungs by the time the other blonde man copied the first’s actions and sat inappropriately close to me on the other side. When I had glimpsed them from afar just minutes earlier, I thought it possible that they were twins due to their height and similar features, but I couldn’t tell for sure due to the distance. I was still curious if I had been right, but refused to raise my head to confirm that fact.

The man sitting to my right purred, “I like this one, brother. Can we have him?”

Excuse me?

I was so angry at how they were treating me, but still so paralyzed by their terrifying aura that I felt unable to move even an inch.

Lane thankfully came to my rescue. He growled at the maybe-twins, “You’re too close, he’ll probably start screaming if you don’t back thefuckup.”

“You heard him, boys. You shouldn’t be scaring his friend like that.”

I wilted in relief and exhaustion in my chair as Lane’s therapist scolded them, resulting in both of them rising from their chairs and freeing me from their presence.

“You’re no fun, Grey. We’ll leave. See you later,” one of them sneered.

As they left, Dr. Cohen addressed us both. “My apologies, as you can see, they’re not great with people besides themselves. I hope neither of you has the misfortune of running into them again.” He smiled at Lane and grabbed his coffee cup from the table. “I should probably catch up with them. I’ll see you soon, Lane.”

We sat in silence for a moment before Lane spoke up. “Sorry, that was weird. Dr. Cohen’s so nice, so I can’t believe his brothers acted like that. You okay?”

“I guess. I’m feeling overstimulated now, so I’m gonna head back to the shop. Let me know if anything else happens with your stalker, okay?”

I let out a heavy exhale, standing from the table. As I gave my friend a quick hug, I hoped that he couldn’t feel me shaking.

It was okay. We’d never crossed paths before; I crossed my fingers that we never would again.

* * *

TRANNYBITCH.The spray paint covered the entire front window of the shop. For a while, I just stared at it.

My hands shook as they hung at my sides. When I’d walked down the stairs at the back of the building, I had been expecting another normal day; my mind was focused on opening up the shop and starting my morning. I certainly wasn’t expecting to turn the corner and see that my storefront had been vandalized.

It was 6 a.m., and I had locked up around 9 p.m., so it must have occurred overnight while I was in my apartment.

Once the shock had receded enough for my body to move, I shakily sat down on the cement sidewalk with my back pressed against the wall. I reminded myself to breathe deeply to avoid hyperventilating. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I internally debated who to call. Lane… Lane was already dealing with a stalker and, in my opinion, a sketchy therapist—I was 75% sure they may be one and the same.

But Josh–Josh stood up for me the other day against those weird customers. Plus, I already knew that there was no way Lane would know how to remove spray paint from glass.

I sighed and tapped the call button on his contact.

“Hello? Oliver? What’s up?” Josh asked as he picked up my call.

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