The use of my first name is a red flag. He’s talking to me man-to-man not boss-to-team-member. His concern is clear, and despite not wanting to face the shit that keeps me awake at night, I know he’d never compromise his teams to placate me.
“Eventually, you’ll be able to come back and attend sessions with Dr. Alverez.”
“I’d prefer to deal with this while at the clubhouse.”
“I would prefer that, too.”
Anticipation fills me.
“But she’s booked solid right now, and I don’t think waiting for her schedule to clear up is best for anyone.”
And that joy I allowed myself to feel crashes to the floor.
“I don’t mind waiting.”
“PTSD is serious,” he says.
“I’ve been in some really scary shit before, boss. This time was no different. I’m mostly fine.”
He huffs. “You have no idea how many times I’ve said that myself. Mostly fine isn’t going to cut it, Josh. Start counseling and we’ll revisit your return to the clubhouse after a few weeks. We look forward to seeing you. Talk soon.”
The line goes dead, and I should be elated. Before, I was worried that he was going to fire me. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s putting conditions on my return. I endangered my team with what I did. There has to be repercussions to that.
What dampens my joy is the fact of what it means for other aspects of my life. Returning to Cerberus means no more Brynn.
For a flash of a second, I consider what it would be like to keep her and give the team up, but it’s only a flicker of consideration.
Cerberus is everything to me, and I can’t compromise that by continuing to sleep with her.
It’s already messy enough with the way she watches me, with the way I find myself watching her, thinking about hanging out rather than letting my mind drift to only fucking her and getting off.
The sex is phenomenal, although I’d never tell her that despite her saying it to me more than once. It feels like handing over what minimal power I have left in my life.
I stand, decision made, and make my way back to Slick’s room.
She’s sitting on the bed as if she had a clue we’d be having this conversation today. I falter once again at the sight of her when she throws a fake smile in my direction.
I don’t want phony from her. I want the real woman that lets herself go in the bedroom.
I shake my head because that’s not what I want. Cerberus is all that has ever mattered to me and nothing has changed.
“I’ll go to counseling. Could you set that up for me?”
“Of course,” she answers.
I don’t say another word before walking away.
Chapter 23
Slick
I know he feels betrayed because I feel like I betrayed him.
His reaction shouldn’t make me feel any measure of joy, but it does for some fucked-up reason. It makes me think that there was something between us other than insanely hot sex because both of our options are limited in this strange town. It possibly means that he has feelings for me, but it’s a bittersweet realization because whatever was growing is now over.
I shouldn’t be surprised at his attitude, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Unable to stay in the house with him so close but so emotionally distant, I grab the car keys and leave without speaking a word to him.
I end up in a strip mall parking lot, people watching. This always used to make me happy. I’d see someone, and in my head, I’d make mental predictions about who they are and how their lives were. I always gave them happily ever afters because I see enough negative shit in my line of work that making those judgments about strangers walking down the sidewalk seemed too shitty.
I sigh more than once, hating that the stress I’ve been feeling for weeks is only heavier after the phone call with Kincaid.
I pull out my phone and place the call for Aro’s counseling session, grateful they’re able to get them in as soon as tomorrow. I accept the appointment because I know all about striking while the iron is hot, and no matter what Kincaid’s ultimatum was to the man, there’s always a chance he’ll back out again if given too much time to think about it.
The phone rings before I can put it back down, and I’m more frustrated than anything at seeing Kincaid’s name on it once again.
I clench my jaw, forcing it to relax before answering.
“Yes, sir?” I wince at the irritation in my tone.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope. What can I do for you?” The tone of that question is only a fraction better.
“I forgot to tell you that we have a meeting at the clubhouse tomorrow. I need you there.”
“I’ve scheduled Aro’s first counseling session for midday tomorrow. I think rescheduling would—”