Chapter Thirteen

Kendra was late.

Timber checked the time on the wall clock again. Kendra was a newer client and this was only her second session, but she'd talked in the last one about how she was obsessive about being on time, while her husband was perpetually late, and it drove her bonkers.

She didn't mind tardiness for good reasons, but she did hate that it would cut into Kendra's allotted hour of counseling.

Her phone lit up on the desk, and she scooted her rolling chair closer to see who had texted. Her face broke out in a smile as she saw Wreck's name on the ID.

I'm doing a bid out in Saratoga, and it'll be awhile longer. I am still planning to take you out to dinner tonight, but it'll be later. Is that okay?

Sure, that works for me! I'll grab a snack after this client, and then we can go to that place you were talking about. Moosey's? Send.

"Who has you smiling like that?" Kendra asked from the open doorway.

Timber startled slightly, and put her phone face down on the desk. She didn't talk about her personal life in general, and especially to newer clients, so she shifted direction and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yes." Kendra bustled in and flopped her oversized purse on the ground next to the couch she sank back into. "I'm so sorry I was late. I got all caught up with some stuff and lost track of time."

"I was worried after you saying last time that you didn't like tardiness."

Kendra frowned behind her oversized sunglasses as she riffled through her purse, looking for something. Gum, apparently. "I said what?"

Confused, Timber recounted their discussion about how tardiness was her pet peeve. "I was about to look up your contact number and check on you."

Kendra glanced up at the clock, chewing her newly-unwrapped gum. "I'm only half an hour late. I've got thirty more minutes. All good."

"How is Mark?" Timber asked, switching into therapist-mode.

"Mark," Kendra drawled out, like she was trying to jog her memory.

This was strange. "Your brother," Timber reminded her. "He just had surgery last week."

"Oh, right. He's doing well. All healed up."

"Healed up from open-heart surgery?"

"Look, are we going to talk about all the past stuff, or future stuff? Because I'm at a point in my life where I want to focus on the future."

"Absolutely. What would you like to talk about?" And why are you still wearing sunglasses in a dimly-lit therapist's office? She kept that question to herself, because manners.

"Relationships," Kendra said with a confident nod of her head.

"Familial, romantic, or friendship relationships?"

"Romantic."

Kendra was one of those clients who tended to talk most of the session with very little interaction, so Timber settled in and waited for her to stop slathering on lip gloss. She seemed distracted and jittery today. Too much coffee, perhaps.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kendra said.

Timber composed her face into a polite smile. "Sure."

"Are you in a romantic relationship?"

"I think we should keep the focus on you, so you can get the best session with your remaining time."

"I'm sorry for being so forward, but I would like to know if you would understand if I open up about a romantic relationship. It's new for me."

Timber cleared her throat and nodded. "I have a person I like spending time with, yes."

"I bet he's tall and handsome," Kendra gushed. "You are too pretty to date gargoyles, and really, that's what there is in the dating pool after a certain age. I'm learning that. Tell me you found a hot one."

"He's very handsome to me."

Kendra's smile was frozen on her face, and she waited three beats before she began talking again. "I'm dating someone, but I think…" She dropped her gaze to her hands as she fidgeted with the edge of her shirt. Timber really wished she could see her expression behind the big sunglasses. "I met him in person a few weeks ago. He's funny, and smart, and hard working. He checks all the boxes that I'm looking for in a partner or a mate."

Mate. Timber chewed the corner of her lip. She thought Kendra had said she was married already. In the last session, Kendra had told her a big story about how she hated being late, and her husband was perpetually late.

And now Kendra had used a shifter term. Huh.

"You see, this guy checks the boxes, but I'm afraid he's more than I bargained for. He has red flags."

"Like what?" Timber asked.

"I don't want to talk down about him."

"It isn't talking down about someone if you are just voicing your concerns about how they fit into your life."

"Well, I just found out he is a…" Kendra looked to the door, then back to Timber, and lowered her voice. "He's a shifter."

Okay. Well, that made the "mate" terminology make sense. "And what are your feelings on shifters?"

"What are your feelings on them?" Kendra asked softly. "I mean, I would like to know so I can feel safe talking to someone I know won't judge me."

"My feelings are irrelevant. I wouldn't judge you no matter what you share. My job is to work through your feelings with you so you can understand yourself better." She didn't know why, but Kendra was grating on her. She was feeling this sense of protectiveness over Wreck with each personal question Kendra asked her, but she didn't know why. Sometimes clients asked questions. It was okay. It was just conversation.

Kendra placed her hands on her knees and locked her arms, straightened her spine. "My family doesn't like shifters."

"What do you feel about them?"

"I didn't like them either, but now this guy is in my life, and he snuck it over on me. He got me to like him before I found out he wasn't human. I feel tricked. Wouldn't you feel tricked?"

Questions, questions, questions. "I think I would feel sad that the person I cared for felt like they couldn't tell me what they were right away. I think I would wonder what kind of trauma had made them so careful about telling people what they are."

Kendra smiled. "So you do like them."

"I like good people. Doesn't matter if they are a human, or a shifter, or a ten-foot purple cockroach. If they are good people, they're good by me. Do you feel like the man you are dating is a good person?"

"I feel confused. It's like my old feelings about shifters are warring with what I see in front of me. He seems nice and genuine, but he has a dark side. All men have a dark side, but this is different. It's a dangerous dark side." Kendra leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. "Possibly deadly."

"If your instincts are telling you that he is dangerous, those are valid feelings. Maybe you should take some time to think on pursuing a relationship you are so unsure about."

"Did you know that different shifters have different powers?"

Timber nodded. "Yes."

"Well, this guy has some very big powers."

"Like what?"

"I don't want to say. You would think I was crazy."

"I promise I won't," she said with a smile. "I've seen crazy. You aren't that."

Kendra lowered her voice to a whisper. "He can control fire."

Timber's heart kicked up to racing. "W-what? He's a dragon, or something?"

"He's the reason I was late. I live in Saratoga, and he wanted to spend the day together. I didn't want to rush him. I want to figure out if we are a match or not. Get it? Match? Fire joke."

She could barely make out Kendra's words over the whooshing sound in her ears that was pounding to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Kendra was pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Perfectly-highlighted hair, blue eyes—when they weren't hidden by those goddamn sunglasses. Perfect bone structure, and the figure of a goddess. She was tall, and walked with a confidence that Timber could absolutely see attracting droves of men.

Fire.

Saratoga.

"H-how long have you been seeing him?" she asked, trying hard to steady out her voice.

"We've been talking for a few months, but we just started meeting up in person a month ago. He built a fence for my new house…Timber? Are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes. I'm great." Her chest cavity was physically hurting, and it was hard to draw in a breath.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Kendra said. "Do you want me to get you a glass of water or something?"

Timber rubbed her cool fingertips across her forehead, massaging, as she stared at the geometric pattern of her office rug. What was happening? Why would he do this? He'd been with her so much. He'd been so present.

"Please go on," Timber said, if a little breathlessly. "I'm completely fine. Just had a dizzy spell for a second."

"Okay, if you're sure. Today he told me he loves me, but I don't know if I could love someone who is so dangerous. I've dated bad boys before, and blah for three older blah blah…" Kendra's words weren't making sense to her anymore, and they were fading off to nothing as Timber's mind raced on and on.

She was so hurt. So hurt.

He'd told her he loved her? Today? Timber had been counting down the seconds to seeing him again, and he was with someone else. Why on earth would this happen this way? Why would Kendra, out of all the people in the world, be her client? Why would Timber be the one she opened up about her relationship with? Her relationship with Wreck.

Timber was struggling to stay professional as she blinked hard and nodded, pretending she wasn't falling apart.

"…and then I didn't say it back because I panicked, you know?"

"Hmm?"

"He said he loved me, and I panicked. My family would die if they knew I was falling in love with someone like him."

Timber swallowed hard, but her voice still broke on the question, "What happened then?"

"I left. I had to keep my appointment with you. He seemed upset. He kept holding my hand and telling me to come back and talk to him about this. He asked me to cancel my appointments for the day, but he didn't know I was coming here. He didn't know I need this. You do help me figure myself out, and even just saying all of this out loud is helping me, I can tell. My head is already clearer. I shouldn't be prejudiced. Just because my family instilled that in me, doesn't mean I should hold onto it as an educated adult. I should follow my heart."

"Mmhmm. And your heart says…"

"It says he is exactly what he says he is."

Timber's mouth had gone dry. "What's that?"

"His mate."

"He…he calls you that."

"He has since early on. He said he just knew with me. I should've known it was going to move fast, because he wanted to sleep with me the day he came to start building my fence. I made him wait though."

"That's good," she said, her head pounding with pain right behind her temple.

"I made him wait until the second day." Kendra grinned. "I'm a lady, not a saint. It's probably why I'm addicted to him. He's a demon in the bed—"

"I think our time is up," Timber rushed out, unable to hear another word, or her heart would break in two.

"But we have twenty more minutes," Kendra said, gesturing to the clock on the wall.

"There won't be a charge for today. I'm not feeling very well all of a sudden. I'm so sorry." Timber blinked hard and inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Just get through this. "Is it okay if we continue this at a different time?"

"You don't like shifters after all, do you? That's why you're upset," Kendra said low.

"No, it's not that. I'm just not feeling…I will email you with available times I have to make up your session." She held her hand out toward the door, palm up. "Please."

Kendra stood slowly, shouldered her purse, and pushed her sunglasses more firmly onto her face. "I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I was hoping for some clarity on Josiah."

Josiah. That's how she knew it was all really happening. Kendra knew his real name.

Pain seared through her, and Timber dropped her gaze to Kendra's high heels. She couldn't drag her attention back up to her face if she tried. Wreck had told her his real name. He'd given Timber such a hard time and made it seem like such a big deal, but that was his game, right? He made women feel special for knowing his name, if that was even real. "Have a good day, Kendra. We will talk soon."

Kendra huffed a little breath and left the room. She left the door open, so Timber stood unsteadily, caught her balance, and then walked carefully to the door and slowly closed it. She turned the lock, and pressed her palms and her forehead against the cold wood.

No.

Wreck was different, right? He was supposed to be different. He wasn't supposed to make her feel like this. He wasn't supposed to be a liar. Why had he introduced her to his mother? Why was he texting Brandon claiming Timber was his? Why was he kissing her like that, and fucking her like she was everything? Why was he staring at her in awe in that picture Sasha had sent her?

All men have a dark side.

Kendra had no idea. The worst part of a man was the part that pretended he was good, when he was really all monster.

She was breaking in two.

She slid down to the floor and drew up her knees, rested her forearms against them, and tried to keep the dizziness at bay. Eyes closed, she focused on her breathing. In. Out. In…and out.

He'd spent every night this week with her. She'd been at Ruger's birthday party, and seen how happy he was when he received Wreck's trading card. She'd made friends with his Crew, and had felt like a part of something big, and it had all started with how good he'd made her feel about herself.

And it was all a lie?

She felt so stupid. Stupid, stupid girl, trusting someone again.

She didn't know if she was angrier with him, or with herself. Her feelings were so big and wide and overwhelming. The phone was in her hand before she'd even registered that she'd stood up. It felt cold as she stared at his last text in the thread.

Can't wait to see you.

She wanted to throw up. Stupid girl.

He'd been sleeping with that woman. Cheating on Timber. Was it cheating? They hadn't defined their relationship, but surely it was cheating if a man told two women he loved them.

Do you have anything you want to tell me? Send.

A call from Wreck came through almost immediately, but she rejected the call and texted him, Messaging is fine. Send.

He didn't deserve to hear the brokenness in her voice. He didn't deserve to see how much damage he was causing her. She knew if she talked to him right now, she would lose her shit on him, and that's not how she wanted to handle this.

I can't read the tone of your text messages. Are you okay?

Do you have anything to tell me? she typed out again. Send.

Ummm, I got the bid on that big job in Saratoga. I'm the sole contractor for temporary fencing for a block of corporate buildings.

Try again. Send.

Another call from him came through, and anger sizzled through her. Stupid tears welled up in her eyes and then fell to her cheeks as she typed out a long, scathing essay about how wrong he'd done her. She was falling apart by the end of it, and her eyes were too blurry to see the send button, which was the only reason she took the few seconds she needed to pull out of her agony.

He didn't deserve the essay. He wouldn't care. He would pretend he cared, but he really didn't. He was a pathological liar. He would lie to her and make her question her instincts. He would explain away what she knew to be true, because that's what men did. Brandon had done it too.

She deleted that message word by word, and then typed out something much simpler.

I met Kendra today. You really are good at burning things. Send.

And then she blocked his number, because she didn't want to see the excuses, and didn't want to be lied to for a second longer.

She needed space.

Timber needed room to fall apart by herself, where she could figure out how she felt without some stupid boy filling her head with nonsense.

Numbness cloaked her as she convinced herself to turn it off until she could be alone. She grabbed her purse, shoved her phone deep into the darkness of it, locked her office up, and made her way out of the building and to her truck, parked in the back of the parking lot.

She made it all the way behind the wheel before tears blurred her vision again. She gripped the wheel and gasped at the pain in her chest, rested her head on the steering wheel, and wrapped her arms around her middle. She hated this. Hated him. Hated herself for loving someone who could do this to her. It felt so wrong.

He'd been so helpful in her finally letting her family go. He'd given her friends, and let her meet his mom, and he'd built this little community for her to land softly in, and now this?

All of that was gone in an instant.

She felt like she was losing everything all over again, except this time it was worse. There was no warning. There was no trying for years to sort things out, and being prepared for cutting ties. It was a brutal severing of a hopeful life. She wished she'd never met him. Wished she'd never fallen in love with the Fastlanders, wished she was never part of his life, wished she'd never felt love at all. None of it was worth this feeling of unmitigated loss.

She was alone with this grief, and it felt so colossal, like it would swallow her whole.

She leaned back and, desperate to anchor herself to this world, she connected a call to Sasha. She stared at the roof as the phone rang.

"Hey! I'm on my way to work, just pulling in. Can I call you back on my break?" Sasha asked.

"Sasha?" she asked in a small voice that broke.

"Timber, what's wrong?"

"I…" Her face crumpled, and she curled in on herself again as a sob racked her body. "Wreck has someone else."

"What?"

"He is with someone else."

"There's no way."

"It's true. My client. She's with him."

"Oh my God. Timber, are you sure? He seems to really care for you."

"He's a liar."

"Oh, hell," her sister gasped out. "What do you need?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?"

"I don't even know, Sasha. I'm so freaking hurt." Each word was tear-soaked.

"I'm gonna kill him," Sasha said.

"No."

"I'm gonna kill her too."

"Sasha, stop. I don't want you to say anything to him. I want to leave gracefully."

"You don't always have to take the high road, Timber!" Anger unfurled in her sister's words.

"I want to!" she exclaimed. "What else do I have? Everyone does this. I'm an easy target, right? That's what this is? They hurt me, and what can I do? Not a damn thing. Yelling at them is just the reaction they've been waiting for, and I'm tired of people seeing my reactions. I'm tired of them seeing how easily they can get to me. That's what I need from you. I need you to listen to me, and maybe take me out for some drinks so I can fall apart—just you and me—but I don't want anything to do with that man. I already have my closure. I want you to help me move forward, and support my high road. All I have left from the people who hurt me is my reaction. It's all I can control. I want to look back and be proud of how I handled it all. I need you to understand that."

"Okay." Sasha sighed loudly. "I love you. Just so you know. You are loved. You are lovable. You are worthy of love."

Timber laughed thickly. "You sound like me."

"I've been taking lessons from this great therapist I know."

She smiled sadly. "Go to work. Go save lives. I'm fine. I just wanted to tell somebody. It felt too big to hold on my own."

"What are you going to do?"

Timber inhaled deeply. "I kind of want to leave town for a couple of days. Is that crazy?"

"No. That's completely normal for the circumstance. Get some distance from that asshole. I can try to get someone to cover my shifts. Want me to go too?"

"Maybe."

"I'll ask around tonight. We can do a sister-trip and shit-talk boys and take hot pictures and run the world. We can rent a cabin with a hot tub somewhere far away. I can get some marijuana."

She laughed thickly. "I don't think people call it marijuana."

"Well, I don't freakin' know. I've never done it before, but we can be bad together."

And that was why she'd called Sasha. She could draw a laugh from her even at her worst moment. "That sounds nice. The hot-tub part. Not the other stuff."

"Okay, you make the plans and find a cabin. We can go halfsies. I'll get my shifts covered, and call you on my break."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you. I need a vacation. Laramie is suffocating me lately. Let's go make bad decisions and get you all healed up."

Timber said goodbye and disconnected the call. She rested back against the seat and watched a family of four walking across the parking lot.

Get her all healed up?

She was a therapist whose life was a freaking mess. Messier than most of her clients', who were paying her to help them work through their problems.

She'd really felt like Wreck was the one. Like he was going to stick. He was going to be her rock, and build a family with her.

There would be no healing up from this.

There was just getting used to the pain.