Page 6 of Healing You
“So, um, where were we?”
“We were just finishing up.” She offered him as friendly a smile as she could muster.
“Right. So, if you need someone else to bring him to the appoint—”
“No need. I'll bring Gatsby myself.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
With a final nod, Steve lurched for his office, seemingly happy to get the hell out of there. “Amanda, could you get Gatsby for Yvonne when he's ready?”
Sucking her teeth, she glared at her boss and Yvonne could barely muffle her laugh. “Yep. I sure will.”
“Without the attitude,” he whispered.
“No promises,” she shot back, with a wink to Yvonne.
4
S teve's body jerked awake from his afternoon nap, chills bolting down his arms and legs. A sheen of sweat covered his whole body. The room wasn't in focus, and even though he knew rationally he was in his bedroom, everything was warped. One hand fell to his heart, the thudding pulse slamming against his palm. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply... in through his nose, out through his mouth, like the therapist had taught him thirteen years ago. He repeated the technique over and over until he felt his pounding heartbeat slow and his breathing return to normal. He pressed his other hand into his damp pillow and as his bedroom came back into focus, he found his dog, Molly, sitting at his feet, staring up at him with concern.
Early evening sunlight seeped in through his open window, along with a gentle breeze that billowed out the curtains his ma had sewn for him. With a final deep breath, he slid out of the bed onto the floor, next to Molly, and draped his arm around her. She gave him a gentle kiss on the hand before lying down and resting her chin in his lap. His fingers stroked her coarse fur, and little by little he felt his bunched muscles melt back into normalcy.
“Thanks, girl,” he said with a final pat to her head.
He didn't know where he'd be without his dog... yes, she was a working dog. A trained therapy dog, but she was also so much more than that. She was his friend. His rock. And the one living creature he could depend on when his anxiety consumed him. He'd had her for ten years, at the recommendation from his doctor. And after Molly came into his life, the nightmares and terrors went from constant to rare.
Yvonne's teary eyes from that morning flashed in his mind. She'd hardly changed in the thirteen years they'd been apart. Same big, hazel eyes. Same wide smile and blond hair that would whip around both of them, tangling them together as they rode on his motorcycle. Despite his insistence, she'd never wanted to wear a helmet. He quickly shook the mental picture of her away as he pushed to his feet and padded into the bathroom. Despite the rocky start to this morning, the rest of Steve's day had gone pretty smoothly. Only a handful of appointments, and then he was done a couple of hours early. Something he was incredibly grateful for considering he had been awake at the crack of dawn.
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Lines and wrinkles flanked his eyes and mouth, aging him more than his thirty-one years. He opened the medicine cabinet, rolling the bottle of prescription anti-anxiety medication he kept on hand in case of a relapse. The pills bounced around the orange plastic bottle like a maraca. He hadn't needed a pill in a year. Not since last year's Father's Day dinner, when Yvonne called his Ma's house and he had unknowingly answered the phone. Hearing her voice was like a bolt of lightning that was directed to the center of his heart.
With a grunt, he shoved the pills back into his medicine cabinet, slamming the door shut without taking any, and instead grabbed his running shorts and a clean T-shirt, changing.
Aim to self-medicate with activity first. Drugs are the last resort... even legal ones.
There was a knock at his door and he grabbed his phone, checking the time before answering. He swung the door open as his ma burst through, along with his ten-year-old niece, Maddie, and her new puppy, Nibbler. He had helped Lydia, his brother's fiancée, adopt the puppy for Cam's Father's Day gift.
“Uncle Steve!” Maddie lurched off the ground, jumping into his arms. Thank God he'd been paying attention. He caught her, squeezing her in a hug as Nibbler bounded into his living room, jumping around with Molly, wrestling.
“Maddster!” he shouted in response. Moving to put her down, her arms remained around his neck, not letting go of his hug. It was a game they'd played since she could walk and she swung from his body like a little monkey. “How was your trip to Comic Con?”
“It was so cool. Lydia had these special passes and we got to go behind the scenes and everything.”
“Awesome! Hey, Ma,” He put Maddie down and dropped a kiss to his mother's cheek. Her smirk was laced with bemusement and enough mischief that he couldn't help but wonder if word got around town that Yvonne had come to his practice that morning. “You guys were just in the neighborhood?”
Marty Tripp moved into his kitchen and set a canvas reusable grocery bag on the counter. She unloaded a few groceries, shaking her head with a puff of her lips as she looked into his fridge. “I told you I would be coming by today with Maddie and Nibbler. You don't remember?”
Ah, shit. She did tell him that last weekend. “It's Thursday, already?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. Slipped my mind.”
His ma's smile widened and she gave him a wink before putting a bunch of bananas on the marble counter. “I'm not surprised. Your brother and Lydia are meeting with Nick over at the restaurant to iron out details for the engagement party. They're having a heck of a time finding a venue for this wedding.”
“Yeah, weren't they hoping for an August wedding?”
Marty nodded, worry creasing her face. “Yes. Doesn't look like it's meant to be this summer, though. That's why they're having the engagement party now instead.”
“Maybe it's better that way. Gives them the extra time to plan the wedding they want.”
