“I’m fine,” I mutter, staring at the pillow in her hands.

It’s a hand me down pillow. It came from my grandma’s house, the only house I ever felt safe in.

“You know, Gabby… I wish you would talk to someone. You might not want to talk to me about what’s bothering you, but you need to talk to someone.”

Her words remind me of the appointment this afternoon. Maybe he can help me get through this. I smile and chuckle softly.

“Annaliese, you know me all too well,” I say, pasting on the fake smile that she wants to see. Apparently, me being real with her doesn’t sit well with her sunny outlook on life. “I’ll do that this afternoon. Promise.”

She smiles and nods, and we spend the rest of the morning watching horrible soap operas on TV, making fun of the dramatic plot twists and over dramatic acting. She comments on the storyline, and I silently nod along, agreeing with her all the way… even if some of them are too close to home to feel the same about.

By the time my appointment comes, I’ve cleaned up and brushed my teeth. I’ve never needed to bother with makeup or primping before an appointment with Dr. T because, typically, I end up in tears anyway. He’s seen me at my worst, and he still is there to help me, so, for that, I’m thankful.

Making it to the office about fifteen minutes before my appointment, I watch the people streaming in and out of the three doctor office. All three doctors are in their late sixties, all brothers, and all therapists. Each specializes in their own areas, one being marriages, one being pediatrics, and one being trauma and PTSD patients.

Dr. Travers deals with PTSD patients.

“Gabby,” Maryanne, one of the receptionists for the office, calls me back. “He’s ready for you. Head on in, dear.”

I smile and thank her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear shyly. I’ve been coming here for years, but I still have a hint of self-consciousness when it comes to being in a shrink’s office.

“Gabby, glad you could make it,” he says, standing from his desk and meeting me at the door. He does his usual hug, then closes the door behind him, and turns on the ‘occupied’ light. Propping himself on one side of the couch, I sit on the other and take a calming breath.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind lately, Gabby?” His smooth voice immediately calms me, like my brain knows this is a safe place.

“I’ve been seeing someone… as you know,” I say, and he nods, silently watching me. “He told me he loves me,” I whisper, staring at the floor. This office is old, but the doctors here try to keep it up to date at least. It’s a nice touch that they are willing to come into a new century of decoration merely for their patients’ comfort.

“I see,” he mutters, taking notes. “So, you didn’t like that?”

“I don’t know what to feel!” I erupt, suddenly on edge because this is the first time I’ve actually had to voice my real feelings for Benton. “I love him! I do. I love him more than I think I’ve ever loved anyone. Definitely more than I love myself, but it’s fucking scary! It’s scary to think that he has a little girl, and he’s still mourning the loss of his wife last year. His mom just passed away… I could ruin everything he has left!”

Pacing back and forth, now I feel like a completely crazy person.

“Why do you think that?” Dr. T asks, watching me without a care in the world. Like this is normal.

I guess for my sessions it is pretty normal, but usually I’m crying, not frantic.

“Because.” I stop pacing and shrug. “I ruin everything, don’t I?”

He narrows his eyes at me, and put the pen down. “I don’t like to hear that, Gabby. You weren’t the reason for the accident that night. You weren’t the one that took those lives. It wasn’t you. All your life, you’ve been hearing that you’re not good enough and you’ll never be anything, but now you have someone that loves you and you’re willing to walk away before even giving it a true shot?” He raises his eyebrows in question, and my mouth flaps like I’m going to have a witty comeback for him… but I’ve got nothing.

“You told me he lost his mom last week. He lost his wife last year. He has a baby, Gabby. He might not be a knight in a Porsche, riding off into the sunset and going on exotic vacations, but if someone who’s been through that much loss can love again… I mean, he has a daughter, he wouldn’t just go around proclaiming love to the first woman he meets, don’t you think?”

He has a point. Benton’s been through as much heartbreak as I have, and has had less time to process it as me. I can’t say I’ve processed well, but if he’s willing to put his heart out there again, why can’t I? I know what I feel; I’m not stupid. I know these last few days without him have hurt more than the constant thought that I’m going to end up hurting one of them. That alone should be my sign that I need to give it a real go. I need to tell him my feelings.

“You’re right,” I say, calming a little and sitting back on the couch. “I think it’s time I tell him how I feel. I need to apologize,” I whisper.

“Gabby, have you told him the truth yet? Does he know what happened to you?”

My eyes flick to his, and I start to panic. “No. No, he doesn’t, but… but, if I… if I tell him-”

“He’s going to want to help you, Gabby. He’s not running from you. Not now, not ever. You have to have a little more faith in the man,” he says, almost like he’s getting annoyed with me. Like he’s rooting for Benton without even knowing him. It’s cool that I have a shrink that isn’t afraid to show his emotions, but I want to be coddled, dammit! At least a little bit.

“I know,” I mutter. “It’s just scary… that’s all.”

“Eventually, you have to let go of your fear and start to trust him,” he says, shrugging. “I have a client booked after you, Gabby. Let’s talk about the medicine you’ve been misusing,” he says, signaling for me to move on from my pity party.

He’s right, though. I do need to put more trust in Benton, and in myself. What could telling him everything hurt?

Everything. It could hurt everything.

We spend the rest of my hour talking about ways other than meds to help calm myself. He wants to start seeing me once a week again until things normalize, which I’m okay with. If talking shit out with my shrink helps me keep a straight head on my shoulders, I’m down. By the end of the appointment, I feel better about the situation with Benton and I’m no longer stressed about the job situation either. Dr. T has a strange way of calming me.

“So, I’ll see you next week, then? I’ll leave this block open for you every week if this works?” he says, ushering me to the door. Strange, he never walks me out of his office.

“Yeah. That works,” I mutter, trying to keep my head down. I hate looking at the people in the waiting room. They all know I’m crazy when I walk out of his office, and I don’t like it when they stare.

“Great, I’ll see you then,” he says, and opens the door for me to leave as he calls the next patient in.

“Benton, you ready?” his voice rings from behind me, and I immediately jerk my head up to see Benton’s worried face staring at me. Fuck.

“Uh… Yeah,” he mutters, then nods at me as he follows Dr. T back to his office, only looking back once to make sure he wasn’t seeing something.

I stand there in shock that that just happened, staring at the door as it clicks closed behind him.

What the hell?

BENTON

A Set Up

“What was that?” I ask, as the door clicks behind me. Dr. Travers hasn’t looked at me the entire walk back to his large office. That was definitely Gabby back there, and she was definitely coming from an appointment with him. Why else would she have looked so frazzled? “Dr. T?” I demand, like he owes me something.