5. Haven

5

HAVEN

Repeating his question, I say, "What do I want to get out of cuddle therapy?" I pause, take a deep breath, and hope my face doesn't turn red when I talk about this. In one long ramble, I say everything that is on my mind. "Well, I want to be able to talk about emotions and what I'm feeling without getting sick to my stomach. I want to not freak out when a man reaches for my hand. I want to be able to say ‘I love you, too' when my best friend says, ‘I love you.' I want to be able to hug someone or let them hug me and not flinch at their touch. I don't want to freak out when I meet someone new and they want to shake my hand. Eventually, I want to let my guard down and let people in. "

After my ramble, I look at him, waiting for the judgment or the pity to show on his face, but I don't see it. He tilts his head, scoots farther back in his chair, and crosses his leg over his other one. He looks relaxed, and it causes my stance to soften. I move to the chair I was sitting in and look at him. "You think I'm crazy, right?"

He doesn't smile. "Far from it. All of those are good, Haven, and none of those things you want are unreasonable."

"But—" I start, and he interrupts me. "No buts. You deserve all of that. Hell, you should have anything and everything you want."

Taken aback when he says "hell," I can't hide the surprise on my face. I've been going to therapy for a while now, and I've never had a therapist talk to me the way he is. It's sort of refreshing. I nod my head. "Yeah, I do deserve it. I just need to figure out how to get it."

He starts to reach for me, and I wait for the panic to hit me, but it doesn't. It's more anticipation that I feel than anything. Right before his hand touches me, he jerks it back and mutters, "Sorry." He clears his throat. "As I was saying, you deserve everything you want, and I want to see you get it. I'd like to help you, Haven, if you'll let me. "

A calm comes over me, and I nod. "I'd like that."

Before he can ask me anything else, I ask him the one question that I've been thinking about since I first laid eyes on him. It's true that all therapists are different, but I've never seen one that looks like him. He's built like he works out, not like he sits in an office all day. And honestly, he doesn't really talk like any therapist I've been to either. "How did you get into this? Cuddle therapy, I mean."

He shrugs. "Well, it sort of just fell into my lap."

I nod. "Right, I get it. Modeling was the same thing for me."

He leans forward. "Really? Tell me about that."

"I'm originally from Whiskey Run, but after graduating high school, I moved to Jasper to put some distance between my mom and me. I was working at a coffee shop, and someone came in asking me if I'd be interested in modeling. They had a new plus size line they were hoping to promote. I thought it was crazy at first, and way out of my comfort zone, but I was barely able to pay rent. I was living on butter noodles, and I had to force myself to go through with the audition."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Uh, I guess. It's weird, really because that's the only time where I feel really confident and in control. It's like a switch turns on and I'm somebody else. It helps me sometimes deal with my ‘issues,' but is it my dream job? No, not really. I'll have to figure out something else soon."

"Something else?" he asks. I'm surprised he's not taking notes, but I don't ask him about it.

"Yeah, well, I'll have to retire soon."

"Retire? You're only twenty-five," he says, surprising me. Maybe he has a photographic memory or something because I find it hard to believe that he looked at my intake sheet and just remembered that.

"Twenty-five might as well be sixty when you're talking about modeling."

He looks skeptical. "What are your plans for after?"

I blurt out a laugh. "Uh, I wish I had some."

He smiles indulgently. "Well, what would you like to do?"

"Honestly?" Almost wistfully, I tell him, "I want to be a wife and have kids." I laugh and hold my hand up. "I probably just set women back fifty years by even stating that out loud, but I can't help it. Maybe it's because I didn't have a family—not a real one—when I was growing up. I want people that I belong to… I want people to love me and be able to love them back."

His eyes darken, and he bites his lip. It's almost like he's holding something back.

I laugh, feeling the heat on my cheeks. "Go ahead, laugh. It sounds crazy, I know."

He shakes his head, blinking at me. "It doesn't sound crazy at all."

We're staring at each other, and the connection is intense. I can feel the heat from his gaze from my head to my toes, and I can't stop the tremble of my body.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

I shake my head and stutter, "No. I'm fine." I look at the clock on the wall, and I can't believe that my hour is almost up. The time has flown by. "Uh, it looks like it's time for me to go."

"Wait, uh, can I ask a few more questions?"

"Sure."

I settle back into my seat and wait for him to begin. There are a thousand things I want to ask him, but I don't. For some reason, I have to keep reminding myself that this is therapy instead of a first date or something.

"Are you safe?"

I scrunch my nose up. "Am I safe? "

He clears his throat and nods his head. "Yeah, anyone bothering you?"

I'm not totally understanding the question or why he's asking it, but I answer him honestly. "No one is bothering me."

He smiles and asks his next question. "Okay, and your dad? Is he leaving you alone?" My dad was mostly out of the picture once I got into high school, but he did come see me the first time he saw my picture on a billboard. He seemed to have thought I had money to give him or something, but I'm not sure why King is asking about him.

"I haven't seen my dad in over a year. When he found out I wouldn't give him money, he disappeared again."

His nostrils flare, and almost angrily, he asks, "And boyfriends?"

Surprised, I ask, "Excuse me?"

He sits up a little taller and shrugs as if the question is no big deal. "I'm just curious about the status of your current relationships. It will help me better understand the timeframe and what we're dealing with."

"Okaaaay," I drag out. "Well, I don't have a boyfriend. In fact—geez this is so embarrassing. It's pretty safe to say I've never had a boyfriend. "

It's his turn to be surprised. "What? You've never had a boyfriend?"

I let my head drop down and try not to let the embarrassment swallow me up. "It's hard when I don't enjoy being touched by anyone… it just makes it difficult, ya know."

He swallows, hard. "Right… uh, so no one has touched you?"

Without blinking, I stare at him and lick my lips before I answer. "Uh, in high school, I kissed a boy, but no, other than that, I haven't been touched. I don't even let people hug me, King."

He nods, and his breathing has picked up. "Right." He stands up suddenly. "Well, I think that's enough for today."

"Oh… right. You're right. Thanks for staying later with me."

He nods, and I walk over to the door, stopping before opening it. "Thank you, King. I know it sounds crazy, but this was good… this helped me."

He searches my eyes, nodding his head. "When will I see you again?"

"Oh… uh, will Victor be back next week? Or are you stuck with me now?"

He puts his hand to his chest. "I'd like to keep seeing you if that's okay. "

I can't stop the smile that forms on my face. This is not a date. This is not a date, I keep repeating to myself. "I would like that," I answer him truthfully.

He brings his hand up, and I'm surprised to see he's giving me the orange slices. "Take them. They're for you."

I grab the bag with my left hand, and for the first time ever, I initiate contact and hold out my right hand for him to shake. His eyebrows lift, but he doesn't hesitate. His hand is huge, and he wraps it around mine with ease. I try to commit to memory the feel and the heat of his skin. It feels good, and before I'm ready, he releases his hold on me and asks me gruffly. "When? When can you come again?"

I tilt my head to look up at him. "Victor said twice a week… so I guess next week. I can be here Tuesday."

He nods. "Pick a time."

I look around the room, expecting him to write it in a schedule book or something, but he doesn't reach for one. He doesn't even reach for his phone to put it in. "Uh, I don't know… can you do four?"

"I'll see you Tuesday at four."

I nod, and as I turn to leave, King starts to move with me. I walk into the hallway, and he joins me. Another two steps, and he's right beside me. I laugh. "Where are you going?"

"I'm walking you to your car."

I stop and shake my head. "You don't have to do that."

He reaches for me and then rethinks it, dropping his hands to his side. "I'd like to know you make it to your car safely. I mean, if that's okay with you."

I try to hide my smile as we walk side by side through the hotel and outside to where I'm parked. The whole way, I'm reminding myself, This is not a date.