Where We Belong (Carolina Rebels Book 8) Page 6

Her brows pull together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “With me.” I swallow hard and force myself to add, “And my anxiety.” She’s silent for a moment too long. “It’s different living with me and facing it instead of just talking to me a few times a week and hearing about it.”

  “I’m ready to face it, Collin. All I need is for you to talk to me and be honest about what you need from me. As long as we do that, I think we’ll be okay.”

  Maybe she’s right. I sure can hope so.

  We spend all day at the apartment, with the exception of me having to pick up my new medication. When we watch the news at eleven, I realize today is Valentine’s Day and apparently, it snowed this morning, though it was gone by noon.

  “Did you know it was Valentine’s Day?” I ask Julie, wondering if I should be in trouble for forgetting the holiday even though we’re not even a week into dating.

  She laughs. “Nope. Maybe we’ll remember next year.” Julie stands and holds her hands out for mine. “Let’s go to bed.” Her eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint. I happily follow her to my room.

  The next day, we visit another museum. Julie enjoys herself. I wish I was at home. There’s a layer of panic coated over my body, waiting for some stupid thing to happen and trigger an attack. Julie must be able to sense it, too. She keeps running her hand up and down my arm as if that will soothe me. If anything, it’s reminding me that I’m ready to go nuts.

  An attack doesn’t happen, but being on edge all day wears me down and exhausts me to the point that when we get home, I go straight to bed.

  Our break is officially over on Thursday. We have practice today and I have to see Dr. Gressley. When I see Cal, he glares at me.

  “What the fuck, man? You were supposed to pick me up this morning.”

  “Sorry,” I reply with absolutely no remorse. “I forgot to set my alarm and didn’t hear my phone.” Okay, so I heard it, but I was so fucking tired, I turned the ringer off. I knew he’d find his way home just fine.

  He shakes his head, but looks around the dressing room as we change. “Hey, where’s Marco and Scotty?”

  I look around and notice that both of them are missing. Rams is the one who answers. “Lizzy went into labor last night and the excitement caused Sylvia to go into labor this morning when she demanded Scott take her to the hospital to see Lizzy and the twins.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Be warned; Marco is going to be an absolute pain in the ass when he gets back tomorrow. He had to deliver the babies and he’s already talking shit about it.”

  Holy shit. There are some things I know without a doubt I could never do. Delivering babies is one of those things. My anxiety would never allow me to be calm enough to do such a thing. I vaguely listen as Noah tells us we’re more than welcome to stop by the hospital today if we wish to check in on them and see the new mini Rebels: Eric and Aubrey Polinski, and Seth Boyd.

  All I want to do today is survive practice and my appointment with Dr. Gressley.

  But practice doesn’t go so well. I’ve never been more thankful to be on the ice and to not be playing a game. If this was a game, I’d be helping the other team more than my own. I don’t understand why I’m falling apart. I’m doing everything I should. I haven’t switched up anything in my routine to fuck with the superstitious gods. What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing to bring all this bad hockey juju down on me?

  Frustrated and pissed, I leave practice for Dr. Gressley’s in a superb mood. With a plain hoodie on, hood up, and a hat on, I also slip on a pair of sunglasses. One reason I hate visiting this place is because it makes me paranoid. I don’t want any of the fans knowing what’s wrong with me. I decide who knows about my anxiety and that’s not some random Joe or Susie in a waiting room.

  I always wear a hoodie, a hat, and sunglasses, even in the summer. I probably make others uncomfortable, but I don’t care. Simply being in that room makes me uncomfortable; they should be too. Walking into the room tenses my muscles and urges me to walk right back out. But I take a steadying breath and walk up to the receptionist.

  Instead of saying my name, I hand her my driver’s license, just in case she doesn’t realize it’s me in my getup. No way am I risking my identity being discovered by saying my own name.

  “It’ll be a few minutes,” she says.

  “Thanks.”

  I take a seat far away from everyone else. The wait is excruciating. My head stays lowered, but my legs are constantly bouncing with anxiety and a sense of impatience.

  The nurse finally opens the door, makes eye contact with me, and says, “Mr. Grey?”

  I stand, thankful they always remember my request to use my middle name. Collin might be a common name, Kessy isn’t as common, but I’m not risking them calling me by either in this building. She takes my vitals before leading me to Dr. Gressley’s office. He stands and grins as he shakes my hand.

  “How are you today, Mr. Grey?” He chuckles to himself. He thinks it’s hilarious because of some book or movie or something like that.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I mumble as I sit down and take off my sunglasses and hat. “Why am I here?”

  “I told you I wanted to see you and see how you’re doing.”

  I hold my hands out. “So? How am I doing?”

  “Are you still having nightmares and punching your girl in your sleep?” He seems to be analyzing me more than usual, and I don’t like it.

  “No.”

  “How is your sleep?”

  “Fine.”

  “Anything you want to tell me that you haven’t been telling me?” he asks with a raised brow.

  “I don’t lie to you,” I snap.

  Dr. Gressley shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.” When I don’t say anything, he says, “You’ve been playing shit hockey ever since you scored on Liam Irving.” I clench my jaw, but don’t give in to his bait. “How’s your relationship with your brother?” Without meaning to, I breathe heavily through my nose. “Not so hot, huh?” Dr. Gressley steeples his hands under his chin.

  “I wanted to see you because I think you’re spiraling. I’ve told you from day one that medication doesn’t solve all your problems. It’s not the fix. You’ve never seen a therapist, Collin, and I think it’s time. I know—”

  The chair screeches as I stand, slapping my hat back on my head and my sunglasses on as well. I turn and walk out.

  “Wait! We’re not done here!” Dr. Gressley comes after me, but I have a small head start and my legs are longer than his.

  I rush to the door leading to the waiting room, burst through, and out the front door, running to my car once I’m outside.

  Nope, nope, nope. I’ve gone this long without a fucking therapist and I can go longer without one. There might be something wrong with me, but I can manage it with a pill that works. That’s all I need. I don’t need to talk to some shrink, yet one more person who will know about my problems. I’m not fucking doing it.

  I’m not even a half a mile away before my gasps for air turns into hyperventilating and I have to pull into a parking lot. I can’t do it. Oh, god. What if he talks to the team and they force me? What if they keep benching me until I go? This is a damn disaster. But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t know about my problems. It’s bad enough that I have to see Dr. Gressley so I can get my medication.

  Pain blossoms in my chest as I try to figure out what to do. No matter what, I don’t want to see a therapist.

  I nearly skip around the apartment waiting for Collin to get home. My exciting news is dying to be told to someone and Collin is that person! But when he storms through the door, he rushes straight to his bedroom and slams the door behind him. What the hell? Do I go after him? Or would he rather be alone for a bit?

  Marmalade stalks back and forth in front of his door, meowing and begging to be let in. Instinct tells me to wait. Collin knows I’m here. If he wanted my presence, he wouldn’t have barricaded himself in his bedroom. I sit on the c
ouch to wait him out.

  An hour passes before he calmly opens his bedroom door. He picks up Marmalade and walks over to sit next to me. He pets his cat and leans over to rest his head on my shoulder. We don’t talk, though I am dying to ask him what happened. My instinct is still telling me to wait for him to come to me. Marmalade escapes after a little while and that’s when Collin speaks.

  “Sorry for all of this,” he says with a sigh. “My psychiatrist wants me to see a therapist and I walked out on him.”

  I’m so confused by this. “But if he thinks you should and it will help, why not?”

  He sits up and snaps at me, “I’m getting all the help I fucking need, Julie. It would be useless.”

  How is he getting all the help he needs if his psychiatrist thinks he should get more by seeing a therapist? I want to ask him, but this is obviously a touchy subject and I don’t think my question would be appreciated. Collin continues to rant without prompt, however.

  “I trust Dr. Gressley to do everything he can to keep my privacy. I know they are supposed to do that anyway, but he and his staff go the extra mile for me. How do I know a therapist would do the same?” He stands and paces. “Not to mention, I don’t need to talk about nonsense to a stranger. I talk nonsense with you, with Cal, and even with Brayden sometimes. Why isn’t that enough? I’m strong enough to get through this with only pills. Fuck him. He’ll be lucky if I show up for the next appointment.”

  “But if Dr. Gressley recommends someone, then it’ll be someone he trusts, right?” I can’t help but voice.

  Collin sends me a death glare. “I won’t go to a therapist. I don’t need it.”

  “Then why does he think you do?” I ask with honest confusion.

  His face pales as he glances away. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” he says after a long moment. “I know myself better than he does and that’s not what I need.”

  Collin almost acts as if going to a therapist will do more harm than good. That doesn’t seem to make sense, but I don’t want to press him even further. He stalks away into the kitchen, ending the discussion. Do I still tell him my news? He seems so tense and troubled. I’ll wait until he’s in a better mood, when maybe he’ll seem more like the Collin I know.

  This side of him, the one who snaps at me and has anger stemming from his anxiety, isn’t one I’ve had to face in person that often. It’s a little startling, but exciting in an odd way. Collin is a reserved person in many ways; it takes a lot to see him act with such strong emotions. His anxiety seems to bring out a variety of his emotions that I don’t see otherwise, not so boldly and simply present in a way that Collin isn’t aware of.

  When his anxiety attacks him, he’s not as in control of his emotions. They get the best of him and it’s so unusual to see Collin that way. It’s much harder to watch him struggle when I can see it, instead of hearing his watered down updates. I can’t help but wonder how long he’s been getting worse; how long he’s been giving me updates that sound like for the most part, he’s doing okay. Now that I’m here, it’s obvious he’s struggling way more than he let on.

  Collin fixes himself something to eat and then disappears into his room. My company is obviously unwanted tonight. I hate that because I’m here, he’s holing up in his room. Maybe I should leave. I could always stay in a hotel to give him space. Maybe that’s exactly what I should do.

  When I knock softly on his door, he doesn’t answer. He’s asleep when I walk inside. Marmalade runs straight in and jumps onto the bed. He finds a spot near Collin to take a nap as well. After gathering a few clothes, I leave him a note next to his phone. He may sleep until morning, but he may not. Even if he does, he may want some space tomorrow.

  “Jules?”

  I stop at the door of his bedroom when I hear his voice and turn to face him. “Go back to sleep; I’m just leaving.”

  He frowns and runs a hand over his face as he sits up. “Leaving? Where? Why?”

  “To a hotel to give you some space.”

  His brows pinch together in confusion, but silence stretches between us as I wait to see if he’ll say anything. Time beats on until I turn to leave, a goodbye on my lips, and Collin finally speaks.

  “Julie, wait. You don’t have to leave. That’s ridiculous.” He huffs. “It’s been a while since I’ve lived with someone and I’m having trouble dealing with that on top of this other stress. I normally come home to an empty apartment where I don’t have to worry about putting up a good front or dealing with another person in general.”

  “That’s why I wanted to leave. To give you space to deal with everything without me here.” He doesn’t need to explain anything to me because it makes sense already and I know it’s probably hard on him.

  Collin shakes his head. “I need to learn how to deal with it.” He waves me over. I walk and sit on the edge of his bed next to him. He hugs me around the neck. “I’m sorry. Things are fucking hard right now.”

  “I know, but we’ll get you through it. Do you want some good news?”

  He pulls away. “Yeah, hit me with it. I always need good news.”

  I smile and take a deep breath. “I have two job interviews scheduled for next week.”

  A smile finally emerges from Collin, though it’s not a full-blown one. “That’s fantastic. Congrats, Julie. I’m sure you’ll get an offer from one or both.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Unpack and I’ll be better company.”

  Collin keeps his word for the rest of the night, too.

  With my fingers all buttery and greasy, I reach for another handful of popcorn. Marmalade and I are watching the Rebels game. I don’t know why I’m still eating popcorn. My stomach is a heavy boulder of nerves because Collin is not playing well. Aside from the fact that he’s consistently having a string of not-so-great games, my concern is so great because of what this will do to him.

  The broadcasters are brutal, too. Thank goodness Collin can’t listen to them right now. They wish they knew the reason behind Collin’s change in play. Why isn’t he getting better? Maybe the coaches should make him healthy scratch more often because he’s more of a hindrance.

  I don’t think Collin is that bad off, but I also hope I’m not wearing my rose-colored glasses as I watch him either. All I can do right now is stare at the TV and stuff my mouth with popcorn by the handful. Hopeful thoughts are sent out into the world every few seconds that Collin won’t come home in too soured of a mood.

  Unfortunately for all of the Rebels, they lose three to one.

  Waiting around for Collin to come home sounds as exciting as twiddling my thumbs. Instead, I prepare for bed, climb in, and doze as I wait for him. Time passes without much notice until a door slamming wakes me up.

  Oh, no. Not for a second night.

  I sit up as he storms into the bedroom, barely glancing at me.

  “Come here,” I say as I pat the space next to me. Though there’s no reason he shouldn’t have heard me, he doesn’t do as I asked. He yanks off his suit jacket and tosses it onto the floor. “Collin,” I bite, raising my voice. “Come here.”

  The smallest of sighs leaves him. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the edge of the bed. I walk on my knees over to him, sitting behind him, and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Jules,” he whispers.

  “It’ll get better,” I remind him. “And I’m right here with you.” My brain betrays me, thinking about how nice it is to be this close to him. “Can…” My voice dies. The idea I have might not be a good one.

  “What?” Collin asks, turning to look at me.

  “Do you want to end tonight on a high note?” I kiss him just once. “Think about something else for a while?” My hand eases its way down his stomach.

  His eyes narrow. “You aren’t just trying to cheer me up, are you?”

  I smile. “That’s the icing on the cake.”

  One second our eyes are locked and the next, Collin slams his lips to mine, turns his body, and pushes me ba
ck on the bed, earning us a hiss from an annoyed Marmalade who is booted from his seat. My fingers stumble as I work on his buttons. Collin doesn’t seem to care about getting undressed at all. Not yet, at least. His hands clutch my waist in an almost uncomfortable grip, but his mouth…his mouth is heaven.

  An embarrassing whimper jars against all the other sounds in the room and I’m a bit horrified when I realize it came from me when Collin pulled away. Collin grins, his face only a few inches from mine.

  “We’ll go out tomorrow, I promise. No matter how I’m feeling, we’re getting out of here, okay?”

  “If that’s what you want.” The last thing I want to do is push him when that isn’t what he needs, or make him think he has to take me out all the time. All I’ve ever wanted from Collin was to be more than just friends with him. He’s given me that already.

  With my confirmation for tomorrow, he finally reaches for the hem of my shirt and yanks it off. The moments, sensations, and Collin in his entirety take me to a wonderful place, an unbelievable high that I’ve only ever had with him.

  It’s a relief when afterward, Collin falls asleep so quickly. I don’t have to worry about him having trouble getting to sleep, but I pray he stays asleep throughout the night. A good night’s rest has to make such a difference, especially in comparison to a lack of one. But as it turns out, I should’ve worried about myself because I’m the one who can’t fall asleep.

  The main thing on my mind is Cal finding out about us and how his reaction, whatever that may be, will affect Collin. I’m ninety-eight percent sure that seeing Cal and hearing whatever he may say won’t affect me. But Cal has a huge influence over Collin whether either of them realize this or not. It doesn’t help that Collin seems to think they are one and the same because they’re identical. All I can do is hope Cal will think about his brother, and not his past with me, when he reacts.

  Something warm keeps touching my skin, in various places, and my eyelids are like hell no when I think about opening them.

  “Jules, wake up,” Collin says in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.