I have none, though.

The name isn’t any of my clients, it rings no bells, and I have no scheduled phone calls of potentials. Interesting.

“Put her through,” I say, setting aside the paper I’ve been staring at blankly for the last two hours.

“Gabby Rosdale,” I answer after Lance sends the call through.

“Gabrielle,” I hear her voice and immediately shut down. It’s been years, but I’ll never forget that voice and the evil it spat at me.

My breathing stops, all noises around me go silent, and my vision blurs to black. That’s how fast it can happen. Before I know it, the phone falls out of my hands, and my head hits the desk, completely blacking out the world around me.

Waking up, I’m

greeted by Lance’s beautifully handsome face. Too bad he’s gay, he would’ve made a fantastic fuck.

“Hey,” he smiles, flicking his eyes to the doorway. “You wanna tell me what happened? You just kind of… dropped.” He seems worried, which pisses me off. Sitting up, I try to right myself when his hands smack mine away. Clicking his tongue, he fusses over me and hands me a water while I sit up and try to refocus on my surroundings.

I’m okay. I’m not with her. She can’t hurt me anymore.

She can’t, but I can.

“I have to go,” I say, frantic that the deal I made with Benton is just going to get him hurt, or worse… it’ll end up hurting his daughter. Shit, why’d I do this?! How’d I not think of her?! He has a kid! I can’t be around kids! I haven’t been around kids since that night, and I’m not sure how I’d do if I were forced to be around them now. Fuck, he’s going to want me to hang out with the two of them!

Oh fuck, Gabby what have you done?

“Gabby,” Angie Merrian walks in to my office and stops when she sees me grabbing my bags. “Where are you going?” She flicks her stare to Lance, who shrugs and watches me curiously.

“I have to go,” I mutter.

“You did this yesterday too, Gabby.” She’s standing in my doorway, blocking me, and, if she doesn’t watch it, I will punch her to get through. “Gabby, this is becoming a habit we can’t have here.”

Fuck. I know this, I’m smarter than this, but I can’t be here right now. I’ve already blacked out and been found out. I can’t be here when the attack hits.  Squaring my shoulders, I take a breath and look my boss straight in the eyes.

“Listen, I have to leave. If you need to fire me, go ahead, but I have to go. Now. Excuse me.” I push past her, hearing her huff as I speed walk down the hallway.

I need help. I can’t be fixed, I can’t be helped, but I need him to try. Frantically pulling out my phone, I dial those seven numbers I’ve memorized over the years.

“Dr. Travers office,” Nancy says happily before I cut her off.

“Nancy, it’s Gabby. I need him. Now,” I say, frantically feeling another fucking spell coming on. What the hell? Why can’t I go one day without these anymore?

“He’s in, Gabby. I’m moving appointments now. Come on in, sweetheart. Can you drive, or do I need to send a cab?” she asks, always looking out for me like a mother would.

A good mother, at least.

“I need… I’m ok. I’ll be ok,” I lie, used to saying the words that hold no weight.

Getting in my car, my vision not totally better but getting here, I turn the key and make my way to the office I know better than my own apartment.

Benton

It’s Always Guilt

“Dadadadadadadadadada!” Hannah sings from her crib, waking me up from my deep sleep. I was dreaming about Gabby and her beautiful curves. Her wild hair draped over me, her moans, her touches. Such a great fucking dream, so sad to have had to wake up from it, but that shit happens.

Trudging into Hannah’s room, I pick up the laughing, happy girl, and we head into the kitchen to make my morning coffee. Today’s my mom’s birthday, and we’re surprising her with a day out on the town. I took the day off work, Hannah has been called out of daycare already, and our bags are packed for the fun outing. My mom loves downtown Chicago: Michigan Avenue, the restaurants, the people. She’s a people watcher and would be happy just sitting and watching people, a cup of coffee in hand, for hours. There’ a few small parks downtown that we can stop and play with Hannah at. There’s a ton of kid friendly restaurants and stores to go in, so hopefully it should be a good day. My father won’t go with us. He’s not into that kind of stuff. Neither am I, but at least I can make my mom happy and spend the day with the two girls in my life that will love me unconditionally.

By the time we make it to my parents’ house, she’s already out and working in the garden, not ready to go at all. Not that I expected her to be waiting for me to leave, but at least my dad could have helped aid in the surprise… like not letting her get dirty and sweaty already.

“Hey, ma,” I say and wave to her, then turn to my dad who’s sitting on the porch and give him a WTF look.

“She insisted,” he says smiling and shaking his head. Taking Hannah from me, I look out into the yard at my mom, covered in dirt and happy as can be, and shake my head.

“She’s not gonna go, is she?” I ask, unable to be upset when I see how happy my parents are living here. The suburbs of Chicago can be sketchy, but they chose a good town to retire in. Great for families and older couples, perfect for Hannah to come visit. How can I be angry that she’s outside working and actually enjoying it?

“Nope.” He laughs and stands up with Hannah. “Come on, Sweets, let’s get you some breakfast.” She giggles and laughs as my dad takes her inside. I could have mentioned that we already had breakfast, but he’s so happy to have time with her, and she’s always happy to eat, that I let her second breakfast slide this time around.

“What brings you over?” my mom asks, smiling and wiping her brow with her wrist.

“Well, It’s your birthday if you remember,” I say, smiling and leaning on the desk post. Crossing my arms, I laugh when she narrows her eyes at me. “What! I remember these things, Mom. Not my fault your old brain can’t handle all the important dates.”

She laughs and shakes her head at me. She’s so easygoing, I know I get that from her. I get my anger from my father, and, after the accident, it all tripled. All of it. On my easy days, I’m so carefree that nothing can touch me. On my bad days, I want to hulk smash everything and everyone in sight.

“Benton Marshall James, you need to speak to your mother nicer than that,” she boasts, smiling.

“Well, mother,” I stress, because she never makes me call her that. Way too stuffy for us. “I was planning on taking you to the city today. Spend the day with you and Hannah shopping, playing… whatever you wanted to do. My father was supposed to HELP you,” I sarcastically yell into the open window of the kitchen and hear his scoff. “He was supposed to make sure you were ready to go when we got here. BUT, you’re working. I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you.” I shrug and grin.

“Oh Benton, you treat me too well,” she croons, smiling at me proudly. I’m an only child, but they raised me right. They kept me involved in school activities, and made sure I was used to being around other kids and didn’t have the only child syndrome that a lot of only children have. That also means, though, that my relationship with my parents was that much stronger. We moved around when I was a kid, and, sometimes, I only had my parents to play with. They were my best friend at times, so it’s only logical that as an adult I’m comfortable talking to them like old friends rather than holding anything back. “Can we just stay here, though? I think a relaxing day at home with my husband, granddaughter, and son sounds better than any old stuffy, busy city trip.”