19. smokescreens

19

SMOKESCREENS

DAY 16

"Do we have to talk about it?"

"Yes, Amelia. It's important."

My knee starts to bounce. I press my hand into the bare skin, driving my heel to the floor. "Fine. It hurts, Doc. It's a cornucopia of fucked-up feelings. I want to cry and never stop, and at the same time I feel like I don't deserve to cry."

"Why's that?"

I find his eyes. They anchor me; allow me to take a deep breath. Despite the chaos in my mind and heart, I do trust him. I might be a little in love with him, but I've come to terms with it. I'm likely not his first patient, or the last, to have these confusing feelings.

"I made myself forget the baby to avoid the pain of losing…" I swallow thickly, "him or her. I feel guilty, like I gave up my right to mourn. It's been almost two years."

"Why do you think time matters?"

"It matters."

"What if I told you the pain of my brother's death is still very much real for me? That you will always mourn, and miss, your mother and brother?"

My shoulders tense. "I'd probably say it's time to jump out of an airplane."

"Do you want to jump out of an airplane?"

I sigh. "Leo, come on. Just because you cracked the nut that is my head doesn't mean I'm a completely different person. Ten percent crazy still, remember?"

He doesn't smile. "Who said I wanted you to be different?"

The dim bulb in my heart flickers, then dies on his next question.

"Did Declan Foster want you to be different?"

My knee stops bouncing. "I figured we had another day or two before he came up," I mutter.

He pauses, removing his glasses. I can't believe he's never realized that pulling off his glasses is his tell. Almost, I want to let him know. Maybe I'll divulge the intel on our last day, when I don't have to see him ever again.

The thought hurts, throbbing dully somewhere in the vicinity of my dead heart.

"It's relevant now," he says with a snap to his voice. "The monitors caught him coming out of your cabin in the middle of the night."

"Doc, are you jealous?" I ask, forcing levity.

Frigid eyes narrow. "Do I really need to tell you how disruptive a sexual relationship can be to rehabilitation—both yours and Declan's?"

A familiar excitement courses through my veins. This is a game I know how to play, one that will hopefully take my mind off my own baggage for a little while. Leo thinks he doesn't have any weaknesses for me to exploit? Bullshit. His weakness is that he cares.

I shrug, smiling blandly. "What's the harm in letting off a little steam? Declan isn't like Callum. Sex won't hurt him."

Leo sits utterly still, lips in a thin line. Finally, he releases a slow breath. The spark in his eyes fades. His shoulders relax.

Dammit.

I slump in my chair, defeated. "You're a fucking fortress, Doc," I grumble.

He taps his lower lip with his pen, eyeing me. "I know you didn't have sex, Amelia."

I huff. "No, you don't."

"Declan told me this morning what happened. That he confronted you about what you did."

Jerk.

Yeah, it hadn't been pretty. The man carried a serious grudge about me disappearing after our fling. And disappear I had—giving him a fake number and skipping town. I'd just graduated and nothing was keeping me in the Bay Area anymore. But if our middle-of-the-night reunion was any indication, Declan and I have about as much potential as Kinsey's failed acting career.

We've both been through a lot in the last decade, and the sex-crazed maniacs we were in our early twenties are dead and buried—or at least whatever chemistry we had certainly is. He didn't tell me why he's in the Funny Farm except for a break from everyone. The yellow tint to the whites of his eyes nevertheless points to an addiction to drinks of the adult variety. He certainly wouldn't be the first rock star to cross the line from parties to dependence.

After he tore me a new one for disappearing on him all those years ago and I apologized, he cooled off enough to thank me for inspiring several songs. I didn't bother asking what they were about—not hard to guess they weren't the flattering kind.

All in all, he was in my cabin for maybe a half hour. Once the past was out of the way, it became quickly apparent we had nothing to talk about.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I use people. You know this. I know this. What do you want me to say?"

"You avoid emotional intimacy. Why?"

My jaw clenches. "Oh, I don't know… lack of examples in my life of healthy adult relationships. Romance books that offer unrealistic ideals. The media. My dad jumping in the sack with an endless stream of bimbos after Mom. Losing my virginity to a nobody, being cheated on, et cetera." I jerk forward, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Or maybe I'm just a liberated woman. Why does sex have to be some big, emotional investment? Maybe you're living in the wrong century, Doc. Slut-shaming is passé."

Leo regards me a long moment with something akin to tenderness in his eyes. Or maybe it's pity.

"Have you ever had sex with someone you love, Amelia?"

"Yes. It was appropriately mind-shattering. Emotionally orgasmic. "

He keeps staring, waiting.

I glare back.

Hooking the pen to his pad of paper, he drops both to the floor. The glasses follow, though more gently.

"Can I tell you a story?" he asks softly.

Bemused by the abrupt shift, I nod. When he starts talking, though, I immediately wish I could retract my assent.

"When I was in graduate school, there was a woman in one of my classes. Beautiful and bright. She smiled all the time and every day had a different flower in her hair. I finally found the courage to ask her on a date. We fell in love. It was the best year and a half of my life until she dumped me."

I blink. " She dumped you ?"

He smiles wryly. "As I'm sure you realize by now, I'm not the most flexible or easygoing man. She was a self-professed bohemian. She'd decided to drop out of grad school and pursue a longtime passion for sculpting. And women. I was devastated."

I shake my head, dumbfounded. "Wait— women ? Holy shit, that's some serious drama."

He just smiles. "As far as breakups go, ours was amicable. How was I supposed to fault her for following her dreams? Or for that matter, realizing she preferred having long-term relationships with women?"

I wince. "Ouch."

"Yes, well, I didn't hear from her for close to a year. And when I did…" He falls silent, eyelashes dropping to shadow his eyes. "It was her partner, Celia, who made Marianne call me. "

Celia… Marianne…

I shoot straight in my chair. "She had your kid? Vince?"

Leo nods.

"She was pregnant when you broke up and didn't tell you? That's…" I pause, considering. As far as I know, Kevin still doesn't have a clue I was pregnant with his child, however briefly. Before the accident, I was even seriously considering how I could prevent him from ever knowing.

I finally admit, "I guess I can't throw stones, can I?"

Leo regards me knowingly. "Ask me if I regret having my heart torn out by Marianne. If I regret one moment of that relationship."

"I get it," I say sourly. "You don't regret opening yourself up to love and you scored an awesome kid out of it. Good on you, Doc. You're emotionally stable. I bet you love after-sex cuddling and giving your lady foot massages, too."

"Amelia," he says chidingly. "My point—as you know—is that I healed. Having my heart broken was the worst pain I'd experienced since losing my brother. But I healed. You can heal, too."

I can't help but chirp, "Are you offering to heal me?"

I almost miss it. But I don't . The heated glimmer in his eyes. The sharp rise of his chest. The brief glance at my mouth.

I really don't know why I keep torturing myself. Or him. Or maybe I do—he's my distraction. A fantasy rarely entertained and certainly unrealistic. Stability. Family. Love.

Leo glances at his watch.

I speak before he can. "Time's up. "

Nodding, he stands. I follow, my arm brushing the sleeve of his suit jacket as I pass him. My skin tingles at the intersection of our two worlds.

Worlds that will never fully overlap.

"Amelia."

I stop with my hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"There's nothing scarier in the world than intimacy. If you really want to conquer fear, show someone all of yourself."

I leave without answering.

I already have.