Chapter Three

West

“What’s on your mind today, West?” Dr. Braden crossed his legs and used his chin to click his pen.

I took a seat on the couch but refused to lie down. Sometimes I thought my therapist watched too many old movies and sitcoms. Did people really lie on the couch for their sessions in this century?

I wasn’t sure.

But nights were restless at best, and I was afraid I’d simply drift off if I lay back. “Selling off everything I own. Moving across the country or to another country and starting all the way over. Hell, I might even change my name.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

He knew why. Emile had been gone for almost a year, and eight months of that year I’d been here, weekly. In the beginning, it was two or three times a week.

My answer to him was a stern look and a tilting of my head in derision.

“The business is still not doing well?” he asked.

“The business is not doing well. The bills are piling up. Things are breaking in the house, and I have to call people in to fix them. I’m tired of gasping for air.”

“Nothing is improving?” the doctor prompted while taking furious notes. His handwriting was atrocious. He’d made me a list of ways to calm down when I was upset. That day, I laughed hysterically on the floor. I couldn’t read a single one of his suggestions.

His handwriting still took second place to the annoying pen-on-the-chin thing.

Still, he had helped me when I needed someone most. He’d given me some medicine that made me feel like I wasn’t going to crack in half anymore.

“Nothing is improving. Every day is more of the same. Except now, instead of having a simple, happy existence, or what I was telling myself was happy…now I’m flailing—running—but getting nowhere. The moment I think I have things semi-settled, something new pops up. Yesterday, I had someone knock on the door to tell me if I didn’t pay my electricity bill within the hour, it would be turned off. Emile would’ve never allowed this to happen.”

Dr. Braden put down his notebook and uncrossed his legs. He leaned his elbows on his knees and took a long breath. “What about hobbies? Something fun? What could you do to take your mind off your stress?”

I scoffed. “I barely remember what I like to do anymore. I remember what Emile loved to do. We did those things while my hobbies got delayed or ignored or…”

“Or what?”

I shook my head and scrubbed my hands down my face. “I don’t like talking badly about him. He’s gone. Not even here to defend himself or explain. What kind of omega would I be if…”

The doctor nodded. “Then let’s not. What are these hobbies that you once liked to do?”

“Reading. Going to museums. Watching crime documentaries. Going to poetry readings. Book clubs.” The way my past interests reached out from the grave I’d put them in shocked me. Maybe I was the same person I had been when I met Emile. Perhaps I’d just lost myself along the way. No, I’d made myself little so he could be big.

“Those sound like good things. Maybe minus the crime documentaries.”

I laughed, barely recognizing the sound. “I’m just supposed to resume this life, regain this person I left behind.”

“Yes.” His answer was simple. “Or become a different version of him.”

A pause hung between us.

“West, do you have any friends? You’ve never mentioned anyone. Someone to talk to? Someone to do these things with?”

I leaned back. “We hung around with Emile’s friends. I didn’t have many to begin with, and the ones I did…I lost contact with them once we moved here.”

“When you moved here from New York City.”

I nodded. “That was almost seven years ago. Gods. I’m going to be thirty in a few months. A widower at twenty-nine. I never would’ve thought it.”

Dr. Braden nodded. “Sometimes life doesn’t go the way we planned. How does that make you feel?”

I shrugged but knew exactly how that made me feel. “Sad and, lately, a little angry. How he died wasn’t his fault. No one could know a drunk driver is going to swerve out and kill you while you’re running to the store for milk, but everything I am and did and liked and felt was enmeshed with him. Everything. I don’t even like these clothes.” I pinched my button-down shirt and pulled it away from my skin. I had a plan to go get some jeans and T-shirts soon. If I had money in the bank.

“It’s never too late to change who you are. That’s why I mentioned friends. Weren’t any of Emile’s friends yours too?”

I ran over the list and came up with one name. Alex. He had been kind to me. Even helped me once when Emile had too many at a party. He was kind and gentle.

He also was an amazing businessman. I’d heard Emile speak of it often, which was why when Alex told him about Cuffed, my alpha was eager to get a membership. That among other things.

“There is one. His name is Alex.”

Dr. Braden gave me a soft smile. “Would you feel comfortable getting in touch with this Alex?”

I sighed. “He’s into some things I don’t know if I’m into. He owns a sex club.”

My psychiatrist arched an eyebrow. “There’s nothing wrong with a safe place where consenting adults explore their preferences, sexually.”

“I’ve only ever had sex with one man. My alpha.”

“Let’s get back to Alex, West. Would you feel safe talking to him?”

I blew out a breath. “Yes. And I think I know how, but I’m a bit scared.”

The doctor chuckled. “At the cost of sounding cheesy, West, most good things in life are on the other side of scary.”