Page 56 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)

CONRAD

“ H anna,” I call out, gasping for air as I push the door open to the lobby. “Hanna, are you here?”

Within seconds, the door to her personal office where she sees clients swings open and she walks out, dropping her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose from the top of her head.

Behind her is the same man I’d seen before.

I didn’t think she’d be seeing clients so late in the day but by the looks of him I don’t think she’s seeing him professionally.

“Conrad? Are you okay?” Her worried voice fills my ears as she comes closer, bringing her hands to my arms. “Breathe, slow down, breathe. You’re having a panic attack, you’re okay.”

“Hey, here, sit down,” the man suggests, pulling a chair from the wall and setting it behind me.

“Miles, can you go down the hall and get him water from the kitchen?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He hurries out of the office and turns down the hall.

“You know I don’t think it’s ethical to be sleeping with your patients,” I say between breaths. The half joke is a welcome distraction from the tightness I feel in my chest.

“Well no one said I’m sleeping with him so…” She shrugs her shoulders and is about to say something else until he walks back in carrying a bottle of water.

“Here, man, drink this, it’ll help.”

I reach for the bottle and take a sip. He is right, it does help. “What are you, a doctor or something?”

“Firefighter,” he says confidently, pulling his lips into a cocky smirk. “We see our fair share of panic attacks on the job.”

I shoot my eyes back to Hanna who’s brushing a piece of blonde hair over her shoulder. “You’re dating a firefighter?”

“No one said anything about dating, either,” she squawks, glancing between me and her not-boyfriend firefighter.

“Uhh, I think I should go,” he says awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet. “I’ll see you next time, doc.”

“Yeah, just text me to schedule an appointment.” Her hand touches his arm for a moment and even I can feel the sexual energy between them.

He looks at her for half a second longer than normal and for a moment I think he’s going to lean down and kiss her goodbye.

Instead, he simply stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and trudges out of the office.

“That man absolutely wants to get in your pants,” I deadpan as she stares at the open space where he used to be.

“Well he’s not going to so just let it go. Come on, come talk to me in here.” She waves a hand at me and I follow her into her office, sitting down in my usual spot on her couch.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she starts, tucking herself into her chair like she always does.

“It’s Henry,” I say quietly, trying not to get emotional again at the sound of his name. My hands come to my face and cover my eyes, blocking out the images of him lying in his hospital bed as my ears ring with the sounds of the machines all going off at the same time.

“Did you guys have a fight? Last time we talked, things were good with you two.”

“We didn’t have a fight. We–he–I–there was an accident. He was in an accident, a car accident.” My words come out in a jumbled, frantic mess which is exactly how I feel.

“Oh my god, is he okay?” she gasps, her mouth falling open before she can bring her hand to cover it.

“No, I don’t know.” I squeeze my eyes shut behind my hands and feel my palms becoming wet.

Anger, frustration, sadness, and a million other emotions ravage around inside of me and I’m failing at controlling them like I normally try to do.

“I just left the hospital. I couldn’t take it, seeing him like that. It was too much.”

“What was too much?” she probes in her best therapist voice. I blink a few times and look up at the ceiling.

“Seeing him so broken, so hurt. He has cuts and bruises all over his face and arms and something is wrong with his leg. He’s barely breathing on his own.” I squeeze my eyes closed again, the memory of him too painful to bear.

“He looks so small,” I whisper just loud enough for her to hear.

“And Henry isn’t small. He’s big and loud and full of life.

He fills up every room just by standing there.

He doesn’t even need to say anything and you know he’s there.

He’s made me happier than anyone else ever has and I’m going to lose him like I lost them. Just like I lose everyone.”

I choke back a sob but it’s too powerful.

Before I can restrain them, tears are flowing down my cheeks.

I drop my head into my hands again and cry, finally releasing everything I’ve been holding in my entire life.

I cry for the loss of my parents. I cry over the loss of my grandmother who stepped in and raised me.

I cry over the fact that I’m an orphan and I could be losing the only person who I’ve ever loved more than my friends.

My shoulders shake and my body reels as I sob uncontrollably.

She gives me a second to catch my breath before speaking. “I can only imagine what you’re going through right now, but what you’re feeling is valid. Loss, especially the amount of loss you’ve faced is hard for anyone to handle.”

“You don’t understand, I didn’t get to say it back,” I interrupt her, shaking my head and trying to look at her through watery eyes. “I didn’t get to say it back.”

She shakes her head, confused. “Say what back?”

I sink down in my seat and try to take a breath. “I love you.”

Her eyes go wide at my confession and a soft smile tries to break across her face. “He told you he loves you?”

“Yes, a few days ago. He told me he loved me and then I didn’t say it back and then he ran out. I was going to tell him today. I made him something.” My words stop when I remember the recording I’d made him and how I left it at home in the panic of everything.

“You made him something? What did you make him?” she asks another clarifying question as I continue to only tell her half truths.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” I wave a hand at her suddenly feeling stupid about the entire idea. He isn’t going to be able to hear it anyway so what’s the point in telling her about it?

She studies me for a second and then sits up pin straight in her seat, crossing her hands over her knees. “You should give it to him. ”

My brows furrow as I look back at her. “What?”

“Whatever it is, you should give it to him.”

“He’s in the hospital, he’s not going to know what?—”

“He’ll know,” she says matter-of-factly.

“No, you don’t understand. He’s unconscious, there’s no way he?—”

“ He’ll know ,” she repeats, this time firmer than the first.

“You think I should give it to him?” My voice is apprehensive as I ask, but her insistence that I give it to him gives me a small sense of hope.

“I think you should give it to him. He’ll know it’s you and knowing you’re there will make him stronger.

He’ll come back for you, Conrad. Because you’re worth coming back for.

” Her voice is soft but her words hit me hard.

You’re worth coming back for. For the longest time I didn’t think I was worth sticking around for—that everyone in my life would eventually leave me like they had in the past. But Henry, he never makes me feel that way.

He makes me want to be better, be braver, and he never makes me feel like I’m not enough for him.

I love him because he loves me and I need to tell him how I feel about him.

I push to my feet quickly and she matches my movements. “I have to go.”

She simply smiles and gives me a knowing look. “I know you do. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.” I nod back and move for the door. Before stepping out, I pause and turn around, quickly pulling her into a hug. She hesitates for a moment before gently resting her arms around my center.

“Thank you, for everything,” I mutter into her ear and she gives me a squeeze.

“Of course. I hope to see you soon.”

I pull away from her and hurry out of the office, heading for my car. I know I need to get back to the hospital as quickly as I can but before I do, there’s one stop I have to make first.

My head is down as I walk down the hallway, flipping through my keychain to find the key to my apartment.

I’m going to run inside, grab the flash drive I made for him and my computer, and then go back to the hospital to play it for him.

Even if he isn’t awake, I’ll play it for him anyway so he can hear it.

This is my way of giving him my heart, of telling him I love him, and I’m not going to wait any longer to do it.

Pushing open the front door, I’m met with three figures milling around that all stop and look at me once I walk in.

“Conrad, there you are.” Hank speaks first, walking towards me and placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You okay, brother?” Kolbi speaks next, looking me up and down like a concerned mother would.

“It’s about time you showed up, we’ve been waiting forever,” Malcolm chastises, rolling his head along the back of my couch where he’s sitting.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” I look between the three of them, thoroughly confused by their appearances.

“We’re here to make sure you’re okay,” Hank explains, stepping out of the way so I can move into the living room.

“Margaret called Magnolia and told her what happened,” Kolbi says warily. The three of them exchange a nervous glance.

“What the fuck did Margaret tell you?” I bark, angry that she would call them and rat me out. I asked her to keep Henry and I to herself until I was ready to tell my friends. I can’t believe she told them about us.

“Something about a friend of yours being in an accident? She said she went to the hospital only for you to run out and disappear. Where’d you go?” Hank asks, continuing to slow me down in my attempt to get back to the hospital.

“I…I had to go and talk to Hanna about something,” I reply shortly.

“The therapist?” Malcolm jeers from his seat, raising a brow at me. “What’d you have to go and talk to her about?”

“Things that are none of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” I snatch my laptop from my desk and the flashdrive from the kitchen counter and beeline it for the front door. I would have made it if Kolbi didn’t step in front of me and block my exit.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth. “Kolbi, please move out of the way. I have to go.”

“Not until you tell us what’s going on.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks behind me.

Following his gaze, I turn to find Hank and Malcolm standing behind me, watching me closely.

I force out a breath knowing that they won’t let this go until I explain things.

This is how our friend group goes—one of us will keep something from the others but as soon as we catch wind of it, you aren’t allowed to keep it to yourself anymore.

“Listen, dude, if you’re worried we’re going to get mad that you have another friend outside of us, we don’t care,” Malcolm tries to offer and the other guys nod.

“We wish we could have known about it, obviously, but we don’t all have to have the same friends,” Hank adds.

My stomach turns over at their assumptions that Henry is nothing more than a friend to me.

That he isn’t more than someone I hang out with on the weekends or text from time to time.

That he isn’t the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thought I have before falling asleep.

That he isn’t the first man I’m about to give my heart to and if I can only be so lucky, the last one too.

“Please, I have to get back to the hospital. Can we talk about this later?” I beg, dragging my eyes from the floor to each one of them.

Kolbi studies me for a beat before stepping to the side, allowing me access to the door once more. “Sure, we can talk about this later. But we’re coming with you now. If one of our friends is hurting, then we’re all hurting.”

“And we’re there for one another through the hurt, just like always.” Hank takes a step closer to us and gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“We might be dysfunctional and a little fucked in the head, but we’re family. And family sticks together through it all. We’re here for you, Connie.”

While it normally would irritate the hell out of me that he called me Connie, I know that this is his way of showing me he loves me.

That their being here is how they show me that they care.

Looking at my three best friends, my chosen brothers, I know that I won’t be able to do this without them anyway.

That I don’t want to. Because we’re family and family sticks together.