E. Blair - Falling

“Oh,” she says as she sits up, looking a little flustered. “Um, that was Dr. Christman, my therapist. I needed to get back on her schedule. But . . . umm . . .”

“What is it?” I ask when she starts hesitating.

“Well, I told her what happened with the whole New York thing and moving in with you. She suggested that maybe you could come in with me for my next appointment, but you can say no,” she says timidly, avoiding my eyes.

“Why would I say no?” I question. I’ve never done the whole therapy thing, but for her, I’d do anything.

“Because it’s . . .”

“Embarrassing,” I answer for her.

“I know you’re sick of hearing that, but I can’t help it.”

“I’m not sick of hearing it, babe. I get it. You just tell me when, and I’ll be there,” I say, trying not to make too big of a deal about it for her.

Switching the subject, she tells me, “I invited Kimber to come over Friday night.”

“Jase and Mark coming over too?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay? I should have asked first.”

“This is your home, Candace. You don’t need to ask me if you want to have your friends over. It’s fine,” I tell her. “Max invited us over to hang out as well.”

“What about Gavin?” she asks out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“You still talk to him?”

“I haven’t seen him in a while. I think that friendship is dead. We’re just on totally different wavelengths,” I explain.

“When did that happen?”

“When he kept trying to sling chicks at me when all I wanted was you,” I tell her as I run my fingers through her hair.

She looks uncomfortable when her only response is, “Oh,” and knowing her so well, I go ahead and answer her unspoken question.

“No. I couldn’t even bear to look at another girl. You were all I ever wanted even when I didn’t have you.”

She runs her hands along my jaw before she kisses me with an affection that only she can show. Slipping my hand under her knees, I cradle her in my arms as I carry her upstairs and lay her down in our bed. We move at a leisurely pace as we remove our clothes, feeling the need to connect with each other in this way. She normally keeps herself tucked against me, bodies close, when we make love, but to see her now, completely relaxed underneath me as I move inside of her, it’s stunning. Her hair splayed around her face, her arms draped above her head, she’s completely exposed to me as I move up to my knees and watch her.

Seeing her this comfortable with me, a level of comfort I’d yet to experience with her, is something I wasn’t expecting. She’s beautiful as I reach down and grab on to her hips, lifting them off of the bed and completely flush against me as I move deeper inside of her. She has her whole body bared to me, and I can’t help but stare down at her and admire how perfect we look together like this. It’s overwhelming, and when she grips my wrists and thrusts up to me, I let myself fall on top of her as we both come. Her hands never let go of my wrists, as if she needs them there for support as we both continue to move, greedy to prolong our release.

She holds my hand as we walk into the dimly lit office of her therapist and take a seat on the small leather couch. Pulling her hand onto my lap, I can tell she’s nervous. Shit, I am too. I have no idea what to expect or what this lady plans on talking to us about.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dr. Christman says to Candace and then turns to me to introduce herself before saying, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Candace has filled me in on a lot already about the two of you, but I wanted to take this time to not only talk with you, Ryan, but to hear from both of you together. First, Candace, tell me what happened.”

“With New York?”

“Yes. Last we spoke, you were excited and happy to be moving on and starting something new. What changed?”

Her grip tightens on my hand as she adjusts herself, bringing her legs up onto the couch and folding them in front of her. I watch her as she begins to speak with Dr. Christman.

“I don’t think anything really changed. I was sitting at the gate, about to board the plane, and all I could feel was sadness and regret. I was scared, but I realized that everything I was so scared about wasn’t the fresh start, but what I was leaving behind. It was like I was trying so hard to focus on my dream of New York that I completely shut out my dream of Ryan. Like I was trying to switch one for the other. Somewhere along the way my dream of New York changed, but I never allowed myself to see it until I was about to leave.”

It’s a little strange for me to hear Candace being so open. I’m not used to her speaking so freely, so I’m taken aback by her candidness.

“So what did you do?”

“I left the airport,” she tells her. “I felt like my world was spinning out of control, but in a good way. As soon as I got to his place and saw him, it was like all the happiness I lost when I lost him came rushing back. I just knew this was the choice I was supposed to make.”

Dr. Christman turns to me, and says, “I bet that came as a shock to you.”

“You have no idea,” I tell her with a chuckle.

“So, Ryan, Candace and I have spent a lot of time talking about your relationship and how the two of you came to split. Have you had a chance to explain to her the reasoning behind why you withheld who you were?”

“I feel like I have. I mean, I hope I have. We spent a few hours talking the other day, unraveling all the questions we each had.”

She looks over at Candace and asks, “Do you feel you got everything you needed from that conversation?”

“I think so,” she says in a shaky voice, and when I turn to look at her, she’s wiping her fingers under her eyes.

“Tell me why you’re crying,” she asks Candace.

“Because it was hard to hear. I’ve gone nearly a whole year without having to talk about what happened. And listening to him tell me what he saw that night . . . it’s just hard to hear and to know that he saw me like that.”

“Ryan, I’m curious. When you realized Candace was the girl you had seen that night, how did you deal with that?”

I wrap my arm around Candace while she dries her tears with a tissue and answer, “As soon as I knew, I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know how. Then I started thinking that if I did tell her, how much it would hurt her. She was in a really dark place at the time, and I was scared she would break. She hid a lot, but I always knew she was barely holding on. But it fucked with my head—a lot. I get these flashbacks. It used to only be of my childhood. I see something or whatever and my mind takes me back. But ever since that night she was attacked . . . it keeps playing back in my head.”

“What do you normally do when that happens?”

“Nothing. I eventually just snap out of it. But it kills me that I have that in my head,” I say before I turn to see Candace staring at me in disbelief with what I just said.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“Were you aware that he has these flashbacks, Candace?”

“No,” she answers and then asks me, “So that’s how you see me?”

“No. I denied you were that girl for so long. I fell in love with everything I had in front of me. But when I found out you were that girl, the visions were just so conflicting because I don’t see you like that at all. I know it’s you, but I still don’t want it to be.”

She’s crying now, and I take her other hand in mine when I affirm, “That is not what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t want that in your head,” she chokes out.

“I don’t either, babe. But these aren’t our choices, and I’ve told you before that I love you regardless.”