Page 25 of Redemption

Chapter 21

It had beentwo days since Josie’s revelation, and she continued to avoid me. I knew Connor was trying to talk her out of quitting, but she was being stubborn. I was still trying to reconcile the fact that she’d killed someone. Her confession had blown me away. All these years and I’d had no idea. I recalled something she’d said the night she revealed her identity to me. About how she didn’t feel guilt over things she had no reason to feel guilty about. It struck me now that this was what she’d been referring to.

Since then, I’d spent a lot of time talking to Connor, and even Bryce, who’d been surprisingly supportive. Connor referred me to a therapist he knew during one of our talks, and now that my eyes had been opened to the world of BDSM, I wondered if he somehow knew her from the club. And now, nervous energy had my knee bouncing as I sat in the waiting room of Dr. Madeline Parrish, shrink extraordinaire.

I wasn’t looking forward to this, but I needed to do it not just for Josie, but mostly for myself. It was one step I knew I needed to take back control of my life. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but Josie was worth it. She and I needed to talk. Something we’d both been doing a terrible job of lately. There were two other people in the waiting room with me, but I didn’t acknowledge either of them.

The faint sound of footsteps grew louder until the door on the opposing wall to me opened.

A woman stepped through, and her gaze found mine. “Miles?”

I offered a small nod, and she smiled in return. “I’m Dr. Parrish. Come on back.”

I rose from the uncomfortable office chair I’d been in and slowly followed behind Dr. Parrish as she led me down the short hallway to an office at the end. She gestured for me to have a seat as she closed the door behind us. She shared a practice with several other therapists, so once the door was closed, she turned on a small white-noise machine on the floor next to her desk. I guess it limited the chances of someone hearing what was being discussed should they walk by her office door while she was in session.

Dr. Parrish was five feet nothing and weighed no more than a hundred pounds. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun and her tortoise-shell glasses were too big for her pixie-like face. She wore a navy dress suit with a white top with some type of cascading fabric down the front. I was surprised at her appearance. I’d expected to be welcomed by some crotchety old woman, not a tiny woman who would almost fit in my pocket. She reminded me of Connor’s fiancée, Bridget.

Once we were both settled in our respective chairs, she pulled out a legal pad and pen. I studied her discreetly, trying to pick up on some type of vibe from her. However, she seemed entirely professional in every way, and I couldn’t glean a single thing from her. Not that I was interested in her in that way, it was more to satisfy my curiosity.

“So, tell me why you’re here, Miles.”

I slid down in the chair and tilted my head up toward the ceiling. That was certainly the question of the hour. Why was I here?

I dropped my gaze from the ceiling to look at her. “I guess I’m here to get my shit together.”

She studied me. “Specific shit or shit in general?”

A bark of laughter escaped. Yeah, she definitely reminded me of Bridget. I sat back up in my chair. She remained still, comfortable, and waiting on my answer.

“Specific shit. Shit I don’t really want to talk about, but know I need to.”

“I can appreciate that. I’m here to listen. No judgment. Just someone objective that you can spill your guts to and know that it won’t go anywhere. You can talk as little or as much as you want. It’s all about what you want to get out of our sessions. I don’t know your story, so it’s up to you to tell me. I’ll do my best to help you figure out your shit in any way I can.”

I still wasn’t completely comfortable discussing how close I’ve been to losing my mind these last few months. Connor had been right though. Letting the guilt consume me made me weak. And I hated the weakness. I needed to be strong for Josie. I needed to get my shit together so I could focus on her needs. So, I started talking.

“A few months ago I killed a man. It was a case we were working on, and the suspect kidnapped his adopted nephew, threatening to kill him, along with his biological mother, who was also in the house. When he aimed his gun at them, I shot him in the leg. I thought that was the end of it. But when he raised his gun again, this time at Connor, I had no choice. I went for the kill shot.”

I could hear the scratching of her pencil as she took some notes while I talked. My gaze moved to a spot on the wall behind her as I recalled everything about that day.

“Was this the first person you’d ever killed?”

I briefly nodded.

“And how does this make you feel?”

My eyes darted to hers and my eyebrows wrinkled in disbelief at her question. “What do you mean how does it make me feel? I shot another human being to death. How do you think I feel? How would you feel?”

Dr. Parrish shrugged. “This isn’t about me or my feelings. This is about you. We’ve only met today, and, even if we hadn’t, there is no way for me to discern how you feel. You’re the one who has to look inside yourself and figure it out.”

God, this was why I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings. Feelings made you vulnerable. They made you uncomfortable. They made you remember. And I’d been doing everything I could to forget.

I glanced back at Dr. Parrish who sat there watching me. She hadn’t moved in any way other than to lay her pen down on the pad of paper she’d ceased writing on. Fuck.

“I’m filled with guilt. In fact, regret consumes me. Like, what if there had been another way to stop Malcolm besides killing him? Was that the be-all-end all or could I have done something different? Then I feel guilty because there is a sense of satisfaction in the fact he is dead. That he can’t harm any more people. Then I regret feeling guilty. If I hadn’t shot Malcolm, then Connor, or even Bridget, or Alex might be dead.”

“How has the guilt affected you and your relationships?”

A vision of Josie’s face came to mind. I’d been avoiding her, because I always thought she was too young for me. Now, I realize she was more mature than I ever recognized. She had to be. Her actions when she was just a young woman shaped her into the person she was today. I knew first-hand that causing the death of someone aged you in ways you’d never think. In reality, my insecurities about our age difference were really insignificant in the grand scheme of things. There might be fifteen years difference between us, but in life experience, we were on equal footing. In fact, Josie had aged far more quickly than I had.

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