Page 22

CHAPTER 22

NATE

My palms sweat like crazy as we park in the garage. It’s been years since I went to therapy. And I don’t miss it. The last doctor made things worse, not better. After our final appointment, I went off the deep end and never looked back.

River turns off the Aston Martin’s ignition and looks at me. “You can do this, Nate.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumble, trying to calm the rapid thumping of my heart.

“You can,” he assures me. “And I will help you get through this. I want you to get better. To be happy.”

“I am happy.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. The compulsions are ruining your life.”

“I’m happy with you. That’s gotta count for something.”

River presses his lips together, mulling over my words. He seems at a loss for something to say.

“I can’t do this without you,” I tell him.

“I know.”

He lets out a deep breath, blowing a strand of dark brown hair in his eyes. They’re a pretty dark green, unlike anything I have ever seen. But River is unlike anyone I have ever known.

He’s special.

River opens his door. “We should go.”

Once inside the office building, we hop into an elevator. The backside has a glass wall, so I can see into a courtyard as we ascend to the seventh floor.

The second the doors open, my heart pounds like a drum. All I can hear is the thump, thump, thump in my ears. I step into the corridor and put my palm on the wall. It grounds me. Brings me back to the present moment.

River cups my face in his big hands. “Nate, look at me.”

I do as he asks.

“You will be okay.”

“I can’t breathe,” I whisper.

“Yes, you can. It’s all in your head.” His arms wrap around me, and I cling to him for dear life. “Just hold onto me, okay? Do you feel my heart beating against your chest?”

I hug him harder, feeling the steady beat. “Yes.”

“Take a deep breath in through your nose,” he says in a hushed tone. “Hold it. And then, let it out.”

Once again, I follow his command, and as I do, breathing becomes easier. Resting my head on his shoulder, I continue the process until my chest doesn’t feel like it will collapse.

River moves his hand to my heart over the top of my T-shirt. “You’re okay, Nate. You’re safe.”

I am safe.

With him.

We stay this way for a few more minutes until the elevator dings. I pull away from his embrace and walk toward Dr. Swanson’s office.

River is beside me, his fingers grazing mine. “You okay?”

“Sure,” I lie.

At least, for the moment, my heart isn’t ready to give out. But only time will tell. I still have an hour of divulging my darkest secrets to a doctor.

Kill. Me. Now.

At the front desk, I give my name to a forty-something brunette woman with big tits falling out of her top. I don’t find her remotely attractive. Yet, I can’t stop staring at her tits.

My mind constantly drifts back to sex. I can’t stop thinking about women in sick ways, enacting all of my fantasies in my head. Most of the time, I play those scenarios out in real life. That’s why I need women who are willing and uninhibited. Girls like Samantha I can mold.

The woman hands me a clipboard with papers.

I glance at the top page. “What is this?”

“Medical history. Insurance info. That kind of stuff.”

“I’m paying cash. Is this necessary?”

I have medical insurance through my dad, but I don’t want him to know. If he sees the statement, he’ll be up my ass about it. He thinks I’m cured and that the worst part of my life is in the rearview mirror.

What my old man doesn’t realize is that trauma never goes away. It lives inside you like a bomb, ready to detonate at any moment. All it takes is one thing—a scent, a sound, or a memory—to activate the kill switch.

She forces a grin. “The law requires your consent for us to treat you. Dr. Swanson also needs a better understanding of your medical history. It’s pretty standard.”

River takes the clipboard from my hand. “I’ll fill it out. Go sit down.”

As I find a seat in the waiting room, he speaks to the receptionist. She smiles up at him, then points a finger, eyes wide. Of course, she recognizes him. Everyone knows River Rousseau and his famous father.

He talks to the woman for another minute, sits beside me, and starts working on the paperwork. River knows everything about me—even my social security number. So, he goes through the motions, head down, scribbling on the page.

“Are you still allergic to Amoxicillin?”

I nod. “As far as I know. Yeah. Why does a shrink need to know that?”

He rolls his broad shoulders. “They always ask these kinds of questions at doctor’s offices.”

“Thanks for doing this,” I say in a hushed tone, tapping my foot on the ground.

“Of course.” His eyes meet mine. “I will come to every appointment if you need me. Okay?”

I nod. “Thanks.”

The tightness in my chest lessens by the second. But I’m still on edge, afraid of what the doctor will ask of me. The last one wanted me to stop having sex and watching porn. I mean, why not cut my dick off then?

Sex is a normal part of life.

Men need sex.

I need sex.

After River gives the receptionist my paperwork and credit card, we wait a few more minutes before we’re called into the doctor’s office.

A woman in her early fifties looks at me with a sweet smile. She’s wearing a gray pencil skirt, a fitted pink blouse with the first two buttons open, and heels. Black hair sits right above her shoulders, tucked behind her ears. She’s attractive for her age. Old enough to be my mom, but that’s okay because… so was she .

Don’t think about her!

To switch gears, my thoughts drift to what’s beneath Dr. Swanson’s shirt. Are her nipples small or like silver dollars? Pale pink or more of a dark pink?

Stop it, Nate!

I finally notice her outstretched hand. “Are you okay, Nathaniel?”

Huh?

I blink. Once, twice.

Did I go somewhere else?

Fuck .

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say as I shake her hand.

Is that even why she offered her hand to me? I have no clue.

River clutches my shoulder. “You’re safe,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s going to be okay.”

He guides me to a plush couch large enough to fit several people. She takes the chair across from us, separated by a coffee table. It’s bare except for a floral arrangement.

“What brings you in today, Nathaniel?”

“Nate,” I correct. “Don’t call me Nathaniel.”

I hear her voice in my head, my name whispered on her pretty pink lips.

“Nathaniel, my sweet boy. You’re so big now. So much taller than the other boys your age.”

I cover my ears with my hands and close my eyes, willing the memory to fade. The flashbacks never go away. They stick like cement, etched into my fucking soul. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake her .

“Nate.” River slips his fingers between mine. “She’s not here.”

“Who are you referring to?” Dr. Swanson asks.

“The woman who sexually assaulted Nate for a year.”

Since I’m not with the program, River takes the lead. He places his hand on my knee to keep it from shaking and speaks for me.

“Nate’s parents have an open marriage,” he says, starting from the beginning of my miserable existence. “They have sex parties. And when Nate was a kid, they had them every weekend.”

Dr. Swanson reaches for the notepad on the table beside her, and once again, I’m staring at her tits, hoping they will pop out of her shirt. Free themselves of the burden of being trapped in that bra.

“Nate, were you present for the parties?”

Me?

Right.

“Yes,” I choke out. “I was upstairs. In my room. Sleeping.”

More like trying to sleep .

“How old were you when this started?”

“The parties? I don’t know. Five, maybe. But nothing happened with her until I was eleven, almost twelve.”

She scribbles something on her notepad, and then her eyes are on me again. I feel like a specimen under a microscope as she analyzes me. “Did your parents ever force you to engage in any sexual acts?”

I shake my head.

“I normally ease my patients into speaking about trauma,” she says in a soft tone. “But if you’re okay with discussing that time in your life, we can continue.”

I nod, even though I want to run away. River is the only reason I am here.

I can’t lose him.

“All week, I dreaded the weekends because that meant she would be there,” I explain.

“Can you tell me how it started?”

I sink into the couch cushion, wishing magic was real so I could disappear. “She was my mother’s best friend.”

“So, she was someone you trusted?”

I bob my head. “I thought she was pretty. At first, I didn’t think what she was doing to me was wrong because of my attraction to her.”

“In many cases, victims of sexual assault can still feel arousal, even though they’re not enjoying the act. This is not your fault, Nate. You were a child taken advantage of by an adult who knew right from wrong.”

“I still feel like I could have stopped it. I was bigger than her. Stronger. But she…”

I lean forward, head in my hands, fighting the tears ready to spill. Consumed by anger, I clench my jaw and feel my teeth grind. I like the pain. It reminds me that I’m alive.

River rubs circles on my back, always knowing the right thing to do to make me feel better. He gets that quality from his mother. When he was sick, she would do the same thing. His father is an unbearable asshole. Thank fuck he didn’t turn out like his dad.

Everything I love about River comes from his mom. I wish I had a mother like his. She’s sweet and kind and makes you feel at home.

Whenever I think about my mother, I think about her —the She-Devil. No matter how hard I have tried, I can’t fucking erase her .