Before I walked outside, I looked up at the top of the stairs to find Rafe looking down. I waved, but once again, he didn’t reciprocate.
Dax
Adriana rolled out of her bed and rushed to put her clothes back on. We were both late for work. After Rafe left for school on Monday morning, rather than go straight into the office, I decided to give myself a little “joy.” At least, I tried. It wasn’t quite joyful with Adriana, though—just a meaningless escape of a quickie with a woman who had been an occasional friend with benefits for a few months now. If there were feelings, it would’ve defeated the point, which was not to feel anything.
Adriana was the ex-wife of a business adversary. She’d messaged me out of the blue one day to tell me about her divorce. Then she’d asked if I wanted to grab drinks.
Most unsettling was that in the middle of sex with Adriana this morning, I’d been thinking about…Wren. How incredibly messed up was that? Her pretty face. Her short copper hair and delicate neck. Her gigantic blue eyes. The way her breath seemed to quicken when I’d touched her after she dropped that mug of tea. Given the circumstances of my life—not to mention the fact that she was eight years younger—my dick’s reaction to that was completely fucked up. I’d thought about Wren a lot in the five days since she’d come over, and that needed to stop.
But our conversation the other night had also had some kind of effect on me, making me realize I hadn’t been truly living. Why were these thoughts of her so pervasive? That’s why I’d called Adriana and done the one thing I could think of to wash Wren out of my brain. Unfortunately, it seemed to have backfired.
“I was surprised you called,” Adriana said as she buttoned her blouse. “Usually I’m the one calling you. We should do this again soon. It’d been a while. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
I slipped my pants on and buckled my belt. “I’ve just been busy. Lots of stress at work.”
She fluffed her long, brown hair. “Well, I’m happy to take your mind off things anytime.”
“I know. And thank you. It was…fun.”
“Busy day ahead?” she asked.
I knotted my tie. “Yeah. The day is fully booked after ten.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before heading for the door. Our encounters always reminded me of a business transaction.
As soon as the air hit my face outside her apartment building, relief came over me. I always felt guilty when we fucked. I hadn’t slept with anyone since Maren died before my first encounter with Adriana a few months ago. And I’d only allowed myself to be with her because she’d made it clear she was fresh off her divorce and didn’t want anything serious. That was perfect because I had absolutely nothing to offer her besides my dick. We barely even kissed. It was just pure sex. No intimacy. The only way it could be.
Once I got to work, I led a couple of back-to-back meetings before returning to my office. Almost as soon as my ass hit the chair, my assistant rang in with a call.
“I have Serena Kravitz from Phillipson Academy on the line.”
Rafe’s school. Shit. “Thank you,” I said before picking up the call. “This is Dax Moody.”
“Mr. Moody. Everything is fine with Rafe, so please don’t worry. But do you have a moment to discuss some things with me?”
My pulse slowed a bit. “Yes, of course.”
“As you know, Rafe has been refusing to talk for some time. We’ve done the best we can to accommodate him. But we have an upcoming declamation program he’s not going to be able to participate in. I’m afraid his grades are going to fall behind if we can’t find a way to get him to speak.”
“Do you have a magic wand, Ms. Kravitz? Because I’m honestly at my wits’ end.”
“I know his mother’s death was traumatic.”
“Traumatic isn’t a strong enough word. He’d only had a few years with her, but she was his everything—the only person in his life who’d ever given a damn about him.” I hadn’t meant to shout that, but I was so damn frustrated.
“I understand that.”
“His therapist can’t get him to talk, and neither can the woman who takes care of him most of the day. I’m going to be the last person able to get him to speak. He and I were working on our relationship before his mother passed, but everything stopped after. The world stopped. So we’ve made zero progress.” I scratched my head. “I don’t think he trusts me.”
“Perhaps we should plan a meeting soon—with the school psychologist and his therapist. Form a team to help.” She paused. “Have you considered medication?”