Page 20 of Bound By Pain
“Even if that would mean experiencing another bond break?” Mia asks.
Shuddering, I consider her question. Would it be worth that agony? “Yes, even then. At least I would know she wasn’t truly alone. She would have my bond in her chest. Whatever small comfort that would provide her.”
Mia beams at me, deepening my frown. Sometimes therapy confuses me. Poking wounds that are already bleeding to get to the core of their pain doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do.
“You said you also feel bitter. Can you explain why?”
“It’s bullshit,” I spit. “Two Fate-matched mates granted to me, and both taken away far too soon.”
Mia’s smile turns sad, just a small pull of her lips. “As much as we may try, there is little we can do to change the path Fate has laid out for us. With that said, I want to remind you of one very important detail: we do not know Bea’s current condition.”
Pursing my lips, I lean back against the chair and run one hand through my hair, messing the tangled strands further. “It’s hard to convince myself of that.”
“It is, but I need you to try. Repeat it to yourself every time your mind pictures the worst-case scenario.”
Nodding, I let my eyes close once more and repeat her words several times. The reminder works a little, relieving some of the pressure weighing against my chest, but I won’t be able to truly believe it until I see Bea with my own eyes. Preferably safe and uninjured.
Warm amber liquid fills the glass sitting on my coffee table. I shouldn’t have bought it. The temptation to drown myself in alcohol is too great.
This is the point where I should call Shiloh. Or my old sponsor back in California. I know he would answer.
But I don’t pick up my phone. I just stare at the glass, warring with myself.
My session with Mia helped. For a while. Talking about how Bea’s disappearance makes me feel allowed me to overcome the numbness suffocating my mind, but it also tore open old wounds. I can’t breathe without feeling their pain. Bea and Ren. It echoes in my mind, crashing against my sense of reasoning like the waves of a hurricane battering the shore.
I need the numbness back. It blocks all of this suffering. Drowns the negative thoughts screaming in my head.
My hand trembles as I reach for the glass, knowing I’m throwing away nearly three years of sobriety if I drink it.
I jolt when someone knocks on my door, knuckles hitting the glass and sending it crashing to the floor. Alcohol spills along the hardwood, soaking my feet.
Cursing, I rush to the kitchen and grab a rag to clean up the mess. Another knock interrupts me on my way back to the living room, so I detour to see who it is. Swinging the door open, I nearly drop the cleaning products clasped in my hands when I come face to face with my father.
“Orion.”
“Dad?”
He glances down at everything I’m carrying before asking if he can come in. I haven’t spoken to my parents since Ren passed. Talking to them meant talking about her, and I wasn’t ready to live with those reminders that she was gone.
Stepping back, I let him slip inside before I close the door. When I turn around, his eyes are narrowed on the bottle of whiskey sitting open on the coffee table. Ducking my head, I hurry to clean up my spilled drink.
“Venus called me. One of her mates saw you buying that.” He jerks his head toward the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “What happened?”
My hands pause mid-wipe, heart racing as the memory of Bea’s pain crashes over me again. Quick, panting breaths heave from my chest. I can’t move, can’t think.
“Son?” Dad crouches beside me, his palm resting gently on my shoulder. I look over at his familiar face and take a deep, ragged breath. His short brown hair is the same shade as mine when I let it grow out, and we have the same amber eyes, though mine are brighter than his.
“I-” The words get clogged in my throat, and a sob comes out in their place. Dad pulls me against his chest, holding me tight as I break down.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
A rust purr rattles in his chest as he holds me, letting me get all of my tears out. When sobs turn to sniffles, his deep voice resonates against my ear. “It’s alright, Orion. I’m here now.”
My heart feels lighter when I pull away and scrub the tears from my face. “Sorry. Having your grown, Alpha son sob on you must not be-”
Dad lightly whacks the top of my head, giving me a narrow-eyed look. “There is no toxic masculinity in the Walker household.”
Offering him a shaky smile, I lean against the front of the couch and push the now-empty glass across the table. “Everything is a mess.”
