Page 35 of Hers to Hold
His apartment was cool, a welcome relief to the humidity of the summer evening air. Kady handed him a box of pastries she snagged from Kaye’s Kakes.
He accepted it with a grin. “Ah, good. Dessert.”
“You don’t drink wine so…”
“Doctor advised it’s not the best medication.”
His cheeks reddened. Kady wondered if his condition greatly embarrassed him. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
His index finger gently curved her cheek. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.” He shrugged. “I’ve got PTSD and I’ve made peace with that. Sessions with my therapist have been helpful.”
“I feel…strange for asking, but how’s that going? Your sessions with your doctor?”
His hand slipped to her lower back and he guided her from the entryway into the living room. The glow of lit candles on the wooden mantel and on rustic coffee tables with the soft beat of some instrumental piece by a saxophonist instantly relaxed Kady, her muscles warming. A picture of Chastity with her father sat opposite the candles on the mantle. On the middle shelf of a bookcase sat a copy of Lord of the Rings. Probably the one Chastity was reading.
“Good. The sessions are going good. Well, maybe.” They passed through the living room to the dining area, the table already set for two.
“What do you mean maybe?” she asked while he held out her chair.
“He wants me to stop seeing you.”
Her head swiveled. She searched his eyes for room to bargain. “What?”
He laughed, but quickly turned his back stopping at the kitchen island where dishes were waiting to be served. “Yup. Thinks you’re a crutch. Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Like you’re exacerbating episodes.”
Kady’s jaw hung loose, her mind failing to comprehend. “How…how many episodes have you had since meeting me?”
He placed a breadbasket on the table. “Just the one.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “I think Doc is overly cautious. Don’t worry, I defended you.”
“I appreciate it, but I wouldn’t want you to suffer because of me.”
He chuckled lightly. “I’m hardly suffering. As I hope you can see.”
If their last few meetings were any indication, then he was right: the doctor was probably overly protective of his patient. She couldn’t blame him for that. “You also said your doctor thinks I’m a crutch? I don’t get it.”
He faced her, his eyes probing hers this time. “That I’m using you to keep from making progress with my condition.”
I’m using you.
She could say the same. He was her crutch except for an utterly different reason.But, in the end, itcouldhelp save his friend’s reputation. Professional ethics could be so tricky.She remained quiet.
“He said if I go cold turkey for two weeks—no more issues—then it would prove I’m good.” He sat her plate on the table. “Hope you eat meat.”
She cast a quick glance at her plate of barbecued-glazed short ribs, mashed potatoes and peas. “You had me at short ribs. But…do you think the doctor is right? That I’m…I’m yourcrutch?”
From across the table he shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“So, you want to…take a break? See if he’s right?” Why was she pushing this? Her guilty conscience was more powerful than she realized. If he said yes, then she wouldn’t have to lie to him anymore. She’d be off the hook.
He held her gaze. “Could we just eat? I’m honestly not sure what I want to do other than enjoy an evening with you. Talking aboutyou.”
She smiled. “Okay. Sorry. Your sessions are your business.”
He clasped her hand. “Yours too, since we’re discussing you. If I want to take a break then I’ll let you know.”
