Fix Up (12 page)

I stop my pacing and shake my head. I'm being ridiculous, I know it. On edge because of something I agreed to do, something I really want to do, I shouldn't feel so out of control, so afraid. It's not like Sean is about to jump out of his mother's skin to harm me again. He can’t get to me through her.

"Skye, do you want me to go and see Mrs. Lawson? I can tell her to reschedule this coffee date." Duke asks me softly as he walks to me and puts his strong arm around my shoulder, providing me with some much needed comfort.

Leaning closer to him, I breathe in the smell of tobacco, shampoo and musk, a perfect blend of Duke's smell I love so much. I shake my head and force a little smile on my face. I know why I'm freaking out so much, and it's not because of Sean. I'm afraid I won’t be able to help Mrs. Lawson out of her misery, out of this life she doesn't deserve. When I think about her, I see a future that could have been mine, and it tears my heart out into million of jagged pieces.

"Let's go now," I say, taking his hand in mine and leading him across the street without thinking any longer about how I should say “Hi,’’ or even think about if I should hug her or something. I can't spend my life trying to predict all the scenarios that could happen when interacting with other people. It's ridiculous, tiresome and most of all useless, considering how unpredictable people can be.

There are not many people in the coffee house. It's in the middle of the morning during the week, so I guess most people are still in their offices. Customers are a blend of all ages, most of them reading newspapers or a book while the younger ones are checking their phones and laptops. The soft jazzy music is creating a cozy kind of atmosphere to this generic coffee house.

I scan the whole room and stop on a tall and thin body in the far back. I know it's Mrs. Lawson, but she doesn't look like the same woman with her shoulders slumped, her hair greying fast and the dark shadows under her blue eyes. They are the blue eyes her son inherited, but without the softness present in those of his mother's. She looks like she lost some weight too, and I'm even more worried now seeing her.

I turn my head and meet Duke's eyes, less guarded now that he can see how Mrs. Lawson is, indeed, broken. Even if I know Duke is furious about everything Sean related, I know he can't say a word to someone looking so lost, not when we both know I looked just like this when we met.

I smile softly, squeeze his hand just before he entwines our fingers. We walk toward her, hand in hand. Having Duke here with me is comforting me and makes me feel braver. He's the living proof that you can save yourself, that you have to keep some hope because at some point things can get better unexpectedly. It’s tough, but it’s possible.

"Mrs. Lawson?" I call to her as we near her table.

Startled, she looks up from her coffee cup, looking quite cold now, and meets my eyes. I feel my shoulders relax, and I take a seat without releasing Duke's hand even for a second. He takes the chair next to mine.

"Skye," she says softly, her eyes traveling from Duke to me. "Thank you so much for meeting me. I know it's not easy for you."

"I hope you don't mind if Duke is here with me."

He's not smiling and he keeps quiet, but he doesn't look like he's ready to yell at Mrs. Lawson that she gave birth to a monster either. That's the best I can ask for, and after all, he's here to understand more about my past, not to take a part in it.

"You're Skye's boyfriend, right? You're the one who ... the one who called the police," Mrs. Lawson says, her voice breaking halfway through her sentence. Her eyes are watery, and it's breaking my heart a little more seeing her like this. She’s never looked very strong, but right now she is only a shadow of herself.

"Yes, that’s me," Duke answers guarded, leaning back against the chair. He glances at me and brings my hand to his mouth, kissing it softly and brushing his goatee on my skin like he knows I love.

I squirm on my chair and glance back at Mrs. Lawson. She's not annoyed or sad like I thought she'd be at seeing Duke so sweet and tender with me when her son is in prison. Instead, she's smiling thoughtfully, her eyes focusing on our hands.

"Sean was never that careful with you. I never saw it before today."

"He's got a problem.“

"And he thinks that you're his property, Skye. Don't forget that part," Duke butts in, not once taking into account how upset Mrs. Lawson is. The woman is on the edge of crying in the middle of a public place.

"Duke, please," I plead, my hand probably squeezing his way too hard. I can't feel my fingers anymore, but I don't care. I'm not here to list all of Sean's flaws and throw them in his mother's face.

"He's right, Skye. I know he's right," she replies with a worn out voice, and she looks way older than she really is. "My son ... it's ... I can't find the words to condemn what he did to you and for so long. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to open my eyes and see what he was doing to you."

"I agreed to see you, but it's not because I want to talk about Sean." I look down at the top of the table painted in a deep green. I feel Duke closing the space between our chairs and I look up at Mrs. Lawson who is fast closing up. "I want to ask you, no, I want to beg you to leave your husband."

She moves back and crosses her arms tightly. It's the exact same thing I do whenever I feel threatened in any way or when I feel very uncomfortable. It stings to see a woman of her age still stuck in this stage of her life, consumed by fear. She’s trapped like a prisoner in her own life.

"That's none of your business, Skye."

I nod with understanding, but I'm not going to back down. Not just yet. "Maybe, but I feel concerned, Mrs. Lawson. You and I don't deserve to be treated like crap, to be violated by men we love or used to love. You and I, we both deserve a real chance to live our life, and if you don't do anything now, I know it's going to end badly. Look what happened to me with Sean. It escalated because I did nothing."

She shakes her head and grabs her bag, her hands shaking so badly she misses it three times. "You weren't married, Skye. You don't know a thing about life."

I stand up, followed by Duke who puts a hand on my shoulder before I can go after her. "No, but I was beaten by a guy for three years at the age when you're trying to find yourself and build yourself. Every situation is different, but everyone needs the same thing, to find a way out. Bravery," I call after her, and it does nothing besides halt her steps for a second. That's all I succeeded; I made a woman run away.

"She makes me think of you in a way. She's running away when you're confronting her with the truth. Just like you did when we met."

"Does that mean that you think I'm right to try to help her?" I ask hopeful, glancing up at his smiling face.

He nods and leads us outside into the bright sun. A short woman in sky high heels and a pristine suit bumps into me. I gasp with the same fear I always feel when someone touches me suddenly, but I manage to not cower like I used to. I dry my free hand on my jeans and follow Duke toward his car.

"It’s understandable that you want to help her, but I think you shouldn't put too much hope in it. Keep in mind that maybe she doesn't want the help you're offering. Maybe she’s not ready for it yet.’’

I stop and force him to do the same. I'm frowning deeply and am ready to scowl. "I didn't want yours either."

He releases my hand and puts both of them on either side of my head. He brushes my cheeks with his thumbs, and I shiver. "You did, Skye. You needed someone willing to try hard enough; that's all." He leans toward my face and kisses me so softly that I barely feel the outlines of his well-defined lips against mine. "And I wanted to be the man you needed, the one to break down your walls, the one you could open up to and love."

I giggle and laugh hard when he frowns. "You can't tell me these things, Duke. It's like you're out of a fairy tale or a male hero in a book."

"And that's bad because ..."

"Because I want to kiss you deeply, and it's not possible in the middle of a street," I reply softly, letting my voice do its magic on Duke.

"If you didn't have your appointment with Dr. Marshall, I'd keep you with me in my room all alone while Grayson is in class." His deep voice in my ear and the brush of air from his mouth down my neck is making me all dizzy.

"I could reschedule."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "It's too important. Let's go."

***

DUKE

I watch her walk toward the tall building where her psychologist works. Her curly hair swishes at every step, and I’m mesmerized. It’s not just the way she walks or talks, but more about the way she’s keeping her head high and how she’s not afraid to talk louder. She’s years away from the broken Skye I met only a few months ago. I can see her light now, it’s wavering still, but it’s there, chasing away the shadows.

How can I not fall for such a woman? How can I not want, and need, to protect such a woman after everything she’s been through? That’s why it’s so hard on me to see her hopeful, and yet so very sad with the way Mrs. Lawson is. Sean’s mother can set Skye back, not willingly, but it’s a possibility. Yet, I can’t shelter my girl from everything and anything; it’d be another way of abusing her, something maybe more subtle, but still something unhealthy.

I cross my arms over my chest tighter and let my head fall back against the roof of my truck, eyes closed as the sun warms my skin without reaching my frozen bones, the places in me touched by fear.

The closer I get to her, the more I feel sick at thinking about losing her, at failing her, at disappointing her or hurting her. The more I want her, the more I’m afraid of asking for or expecting too much.

Love is complicated, but as soon as I’ve got her in my arms, my fears quiet down for a little while.

I reopen my eyes and stare at the building, at the windows bright where the rays of sun hit them. Behind one of those Skye’s talking, confiding in her psychologist, a man I know nothing of aside from his name. It’s crazy how jealous it makes me knowing that now I’m not the only one she’s seeking comfort or understanding from.

She’s right when she said that I want to save her as fucking crazy as it sounds.

I check my cell phone and sigh. Still forty-five minutes to go. I glance around and see a coffee stand farther down the street. I lock my car and slowly strut to the coffee stand, ignoring a pair of high school girls chatting, giggling and watching me as my tattoos play on my skin when I move.

“A coffee, black, please.’’ I fish a couple of bills from my pocket and put them in the old man’s hand, a hand that has seen many years without much or any care. I grab my styrofoam cup and take a sip, nodding when the rich flavor invades my mouth. The old man smiles, and there’s a big gap between his teeth, probably from missing two.

I turn around and walk back to the car, taking a sip or two every few steps while everything in me is asking for me to walk into that building, take the elevator to the appropriate floor and wait for Skye in the waiting room, just to see a small glimpse of that Dr. Marshall she’s raving about.

I grit my teeth and shake my head. No, I’m not going to do it. I don’t need to see if he’s got a beer belly, or count his wrinkles. I don’t need to because as long as he’s helping her, as long as she’s not closing off, it’s good. I need to accept that I’m not the only one in her life able to understand her, able to help her. She needs more people in her life, so I open my car door and sit inside, sipping my coffee slowly, tapping an imaginary rhythm with my thumb on the hot steering wheel.

*  *  *

SKYE

Maybe for the first time since I started these sessions with Dr. Marshall, I'm looking at him. I mean, I'm really looking at him and wondering if Kate is right about him. When I walked in his office, I felt his eyes on me, and while it made me uneasy to have his full attention that way, I also enjoyed it. I never enjoy the male attention when it's not from Duke; it's freaking me out. Hence my scrutiny of my very young and quite attractive psychologist.

He's wearing a chocolate brown dress shirt paired with black slacks, nothing extravagant and everything screaming professional. His hair is still perfectly cut, still the same dirty blond color enhancing the clear striking blue of his eyes, bright with intelligence and empathy. He exudes empathy, and that's maybe why I like these appointments with him. It can't be something else, right?

I squirm on my chair again and sigh. He's patient. I'm pretty sure he knows I'm processing something, but I can't just spill everything and ask him if he likes me more than as just his very young and damaged patient.

He smiles at me, revealing his perfect white teeth. He's amused to see me so uncomfortable. I shake my head and try to regain my composure. "I saw Sean's mother earlier today. Duke came with me." It's not a safe subject because Dr. Marshall is really good at delving right into what is really bothering me or hurting me, but at least it's better than asking my psychologist if he wants to date me!

"So, he's still in the picture," he observes calmly, now frowning. He looks down at his pen in his hand, but he doesn't make a move to write down any notes.

I bite the inside of my cheek and suppress a gasp when my teeth draw out blood. It hurts more than I intended. I can't jump to conclusions even if he looks ... well, he looks jealous. I nod my head. "He's my boyfriend, so ..."