Page 27 of Color of Love

“Is that from your insomnia?” she asked, and he nodded. “How long have you had that?”

“On and off for a couple of months,” he answered, again not looking at her, instead staring out the window.

“Well, you must be exhausted. Did it start after the Anderson suicide incident?” she asked, her voice was gentle, so damn gentle he wanted to curl up in her lap and tell her everything. Her voice soothed him. The husky layer to it stroked over him, liquefying his bones. He had a feeling that if he were in bed, he could fall asleep listening to the sound of her voice. Although if they were in bed together, they wouldn’t be talking. He was so busy fantasizing about being in bed with her that he didn’t respond and after a moment she sighed.

“Blake, I need you to work with me here. You know I have to report every week on your progress, I’m worried about what will happen to you,” she said.

He snorted. “Listen, honey, you really don’t need to worry that pretty little head of yours about my career, it’s all on me.”

Her eyes widened, and he realized what he’d said. He clenched his jaw; he couldn’t let her get under his skin any more than she already had. She got up and came to sit next to him, crowding him in with her heat and scent.

“Blake, it’s my responsibility to make sure that you have all the help you need. If you want to tank your career by not opening your mouth and admitting you need help, then be my guest. But your mental health is my concern and I don’t want the next suicide statistics to include you,” she said, her eyes beseeching him to open up.

Her words drove a spike through his chest, he felt like an asshole. Here he was thinking he had a point to prove and in reality, the point he was proving was the complete opposite. He wasn’t fine. He knew that. But he was scared to admit it out loud to anyone. She placed her hand on his thigh, the heat from her palm seeping through his jeans, firing him up.

“Did you do the homework I mentioned?” she asked. He cleared his throat and shifted his leg so her hand fell away. He couldn’t think straight when she was this close to him, let alone touching him.

“Yes.”

“How many panic attacks did you have?” she pressed. He didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead. He felt sick. God, why was this so hard? Out of nowhere, he suddenly became emotional.

“Blake, look at me.”

But he couldn’t, he was scared of what would happen if he faced her. She reached into his lap and took his hand. Her skin was warm, her fingers wrapped around his and squeezed. He felt comforted by her touch, like she grounded him.

“I need you to connect with me. Do you remember what I told you in the forest, those things about me? I was so scared to tell you, but I shared those things because I trust you. I need you to trust me, so I can help you, Blake.”

Her voice was strong, her words sincere and they rocked him. He realized he did trust her. He just didn’t want to be weak in front of her.

He turned to face her, drinking in the sight of her. Man, she was stunning. He couldn’t help it, he wanted her. He knew it was wrong, they had a professional relationship, but she was intoxicating. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, he needed to push those thoughts out of his mind. He cleared his throat, and spoke, his voice thick with emotion.

“I had five panic attacks this week,” he rasped.

She squeezed his hand in comfort. “Did you try the techniques we talked about?”

“I tried but I couldn’t stop them, they didn’t work,” he admitted, feeling useless that he couldn’t control his own body.

“That’s okay, sometimes it takes a while to get the hang of them. I wouldn’t expect you to get them right away, this is what we need to practice.”

A wave of relief crashed through him at her words. He’d been worried that he hadn’t been able to control himself, that he wouldn’t ever be able to do so.

For the rest of the session, they worked on the techniques and she helped him with his breathing control. They didn’t go into more treatments. She wanted to focus on him being able to manage his panic attacks when she wasn’t around before they went into more depth. By the end of the session, they were facing each other, both cross-legged on the couch, their knees touching. She’d tried to distance herself, but he kept the connection there, something about her comforted him. When they were finished, she walked him to the door.

“Blake, do you still have my card?” she asked. He nodded. She was pleased about that. She reminded him, “I am here for you any time of day, so ring me if you need me. Or if I’m here, just stop by.”

He went to leave, actually feeling lighter than he had in a while, all because of her. “Thanks for today, I’ll see you next week,” he said gruffly. She gave him another one of those smiles that made his insides clench and caused all sorts of urges to overwhelm him.

“Looking forward to it,” she replied, and waved as he left.

The next couple of days passed by pretty quickly. He had two more panic attacks. He hadn’t been able to fight the first one off and had felt so disappointed in himself, but he remembered what Justine had said.

The second one came from an anxiety dream he had where he came home and found Katie hanging from a beam in the garage. He usually woke himself up crying out and then went into a panic attack. This time when he did, he tried to focus on the techniques she had taught him. He tried the ‘then and now’ technique, but that didn’t seem to work as well as it had before.

He tried to list objects like they’d done together in the parking lot of the bar. He decided to stick with the color orange as it seemed to work well enough last time. This time though when he was listing things to associate with the color, all the images that popped into his head were of Justine. Justine’s orange dress, Justine’s orange earrings, and her orange sandals. It took some work to focus but after a while he felt his breathing returning to normal, his heart rate decreased and his vision cleared. He didn’t pass out and that was a huge achievement.

He’d been meaning to swing by Justine’s office and let her know the development. He couldn’t explain why but he needed to see her and to tell her it worked. She would be so pleased and the thought of how happy she would be put a spring in his step all day.

He had gotten held up at work, some last-minute jobs that needed finishing before the weekend and he finally left the station as it was getting dark. He had to drive by her office to go home and he told himself if she were still there, he would stop by but if she wasn’t, he would wait until next week. He tried to convince himself that the anticipation coursing through him was because he had news to share with her on his treatment, and not for any other reason.

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