Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (43 page)

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Authors: Felicia Watson

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BOOK: Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela
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―Because… because if you only knew.‖ There was no immediate reply

forthcoming, and Nick recognized that Eric was using silence as a prod.

An old, albeit effective, maneuver since Nick finally continued, ―I‘m

sorry about my mom getting sicker, sure. And I‘m miserable knowing

she‘s coming to the end. But also….‖ Nick refused to meet Eric‘s eyes

as he forced out, ―Relieved. Yeah, I‘m a little bit relieved that she

won‘t be moving back in with me.‖

When Nick did look up, he found Eric shaking his head. ―Tsk,

tsk. You‘re
relieved
? That all of the years you‘ve spent as her primary

caregiver are coming to an end? Do you know what that makes you?‖

―What?‖ Nick sat up straight, bracing himself for some of Eric‘s

now familiar bluntness.

―Human. It makes you a human being—with all attendant

frailties. I know how much you hate the very idea—‖

In some ways, Eric‘s attempt at validation hit Nick harder than

condemnation would have. ―Aw, Eric, cut the crap.‖

―The only crap is your denial. You‘ve spent the last twenty years

trying to be goddamn near perfect. As if perfection would protect you

from any more pain, or somehow atone for something you
know
wasn‘t

even your fault.‖

―No, not entirely—‖

―Not at all!‖ Eric insisted loudly. ―If a client came to you with a

similar story of having provoked abuse by ruining one of her husband‘s

tools, you wouldn‘t stand for that bullshit for one second.‖

―No, I wouldn‘t.‖ Nick sighed. ―You‘re right. I‘m not responsible

in any measure.‖ Even to Nick‘s ears, that sentence came out sounding

rather wooden.

―Every time we talk about this, you say that, but I can tell you

don‘t mean it. What‘s it going to take, Nick? What‘s it going to take to

convince you?‖

Nick slumped in the chair, feeling exhausted by the subject but

recognizing Eric‘s frustration was valid. Still, he had no good answer

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

267

for him. ―I don‘t know.‖ He couldn‘t stop himself from adding

sardonically, ―If I did, I probably wouldn‘t need you.‖

Rather than being offended, Eric‘s smile seemed to indicate

nothing more than gentle amusement. He sipped from the ubiquitous

mug of coffee on his desk before saying calmly, ―Take a second and

divorce yourself from the emotions of this situation. Pretend that a

client came to you with a similar story and was being as stubborn as

you are. What would you say to her—or him? Yes, him, let‘s make it a

male client.‖

―Eric, I don‘t think—‖

―Indulge me. Just close your eyes for a second and put yourself

behind this desk. Envision this client, a young man about your age.

You‘re three months in, and there‘s no movement on the subject of his

culpability in the abuse he‘s suffered at the hands of a rather brutal

boyfriend. What would your diagnosis be?‖

Grudgingly, Nick played along. He took a deep breath and closed

his eyes, envisioning the scenario exactly as his therapist had

suggested. After a minute or so of mental roleplay, Nick was surprised

how clear the issue had suddenly become. He looked up at Eric with a

start.

―Yes?‖

―I‘d suggest that he‘s clinging to the guilt because it at least gives

him some power in the relationship. If he admits he had no blame, then

he also has to admit he was pretty much powerless… helpless.‖

―Wow.‖ Eric sounded duly impressed. ―You
are
a damn good

therapist.‖

Nick couldn‘t stop a small laugh from escaping as he jibed, ―Not

therapist, counselor. I‘ve only got a Master‘s degree.‖

―I find those conventions idiotic.‖ Eric‘s dismissive tone sobered.

―But getting back to the subject at hand, you‘ve just diagnosed yourself

beautifully for me, I think. Let‘s go with that. Why is admitting that

lack of power so frightening for you?‖

Nick offered his therapist a noncommittal shrug while he

searched for something to re-direct his attention away from the current

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Felicia Watson

line of questioning. When Nick‘s eyes lit upon the nameplate on the

heavy maple desk, he said, ―It must‘ve been rough growing up with a

name like Kochmann, huh?‖

―So you want to talk about my father‘s legacy rather than your

own? As much as I‘d love to,
you’re
paying
me
. Or rather, your

insurance company is.‖

―We weren‘t talking about my father.‖

―Don‘t I know it. That‘s all we never talk about.‖

The scowl Nick shot Eric was fully echoed in his irate answer.

―We‘ve talked about him plenty—in excruciating detail.‖

―Yep, all of the details, but none of the feelings. When you come

right down to it, your therapy has revolved around a big black hole

called Sam Zales.‖

―I‘ve told you, it doesn‘t matter anymore. He‘s as good as dead to

me.‖

―Is that right?‖

Nick ground out, with barely contained fury, ―For fuck‘s sake.

You better not start nagging me to go see him like everybody else

does.‖

Eric leaned back in his chair as he assured Nick. ―I had no

intention of doing so.‖ He tilted his head in slight bewilderment. ―Who

is
nagging you to go see your father?‖

―Well,‖ Nick drawled, momentarily stumped. ―My Aunt Hetty

did, when it all first happened. And my mom does—you know, when

she thinks she‘s back in that time.‖

―Uh huh,‖ Eric answered skeptically. ―Who else?‖

―Sister Ciera….‖

―Really?‖

―Yes.‖ Nick paused while he re-ran that conversation through his

head. ―Sort of. She suggested it—in a roundabout way—when she told

me she knew him.‖

―And she won‘t drop it?‖

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

269

―No. She only said it the once, but—‖

―Man, if you consider that nagging, then it‘s a good thing you‘re

not
married
,‖ Eric quipped. ―I hope Logan knows how sensitive you

are about taking the mildest of suggestions.‖

Nick laughed. ―I‘m sure he‘d tell you it doesn‘t matter since I‘m

as stubborn as a mule.‖

―Then I tend to agree with him. So what‘s your problem with the

good sister‘s proposal? It seems like she suggested it, you said no, and

that was the end of it, right?‖

―It‘s hard to put into words.‖ Nick shook his head in frustration.

―It‘s not just what she said. It‘s that… I know she thinks I should—go

see the old man, I mean. Everybody thinks that, even if they don‘t say

it.‖

―Fascinating.‖

Nick found Eric‘s secretive smile infuriating. ―What‘s so damned

fascinating, Mr. Spock?‖

―Well, I know you‘re smart enough to figure it out, but we‘re

almost out of time. So I‘m going to come right out and tell you. It

sounds to me like most of that nagging may be internal.‖

―Meaning what?‖

―Meaning, do you want to see your father, Nick?‖

―Hell no!‖ Nick‘s visceral, knee-jerk reply was more habitual

anger than anything else. When Eric‘s only answer was an appraising

stare, Nick heard his conscience whispering the truth to him, softly, but

still too loudly to ignore. ―Aww, shit,‖ he groaned, putting his head into

his hands.

―What?‖

A heavy sigh escaped as Nick looked up at Eric, admitting

desolately, ―I don‘t
want
to want to go see him.‖

―But you do?‖

―Yes,‖ Nick spit out through gritted teeth. ―Why? Why do I want

to? Why the fuck should he have—‖

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Felicia Watson

―That power over you?‖

―Yeah.‖

―It‘s not fair, is it? It would be nice if you could just wipe him

out, erase the influence he‘s had on you. But you can‘t.‖

―No, I can‘t. Hell, my job, my life, even… even Logan—it all

goes back to him in some way.‖

―But your job, your life, Logan—those are all good things, aren‘t

they? In your own stubborn way, you‘ve been able to wrestle that dark

angel to the ground and get your blessing from him.‖

―How biblical. I didn‘t think you were a religious man.‖

―I‘m not, but I did have a very Lutheran upbringing.‖ With

deliberate emphasis, Eric added, ―You never really escape it.‖

―No, I guess you don‘t—can‘t,‖ Nick confirmed, fully

appreciating that his therapist wasn‘t speaking solely of his own past.

―So what‘re you going to do about this epiphany of yours?‖

Nick looked at the clock before answering. ―I don‘t know, but

I‘ve got a week to think about it.‖

―What you should be thinking about is whether meeting your

father face-to-face might actually release the grasp he has on your

imagination.‖

―I don‘t see how letting him—‖

―You‘re not
letting
him do anything. If you do this, it won‘t be for

him. It will be for you. I know you‘re afraid that by going to see him,

you‘ll be giving him power he doesn‘t deserve. But Nick, the truth is—

as you‘ve just admitted—he already
has
that power. Maybe this is your

chance to take it back.‖

LOGAN pulled up in the driveway of Nick‘s house later that same

night, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He‘d just spent the last three

hours finishing the replacement of a coworker‘s fuel injection system—

the end of a week-long task. He wasn‘t really bothered by the fact that

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

271

the moonlighting had made for some long days. Not only was the extra

money welcome, but he‘d thoroughly enjoyed the work—unlike the

labor he had suffered through at his day job.

Though it was a few weeks into the New Year, the after-

Christmas bargain hunters were still scouring the garden center, and

Logan had recently spent the greater part of his days restocking shelves

and fixing displays that looked like they‘d been under siege from an

enraged battalion.

As content as his exertions at Acken‘s shop had left him, Logan

ambled to the front door nagged by concern over the discussion he‘d

had with Dave when he‘d gotten to the shop. He shook his head as if

trying to physically dislodge the dilemma, resolving that he‘d figure out

later what to do about Dave‘s announcement. Logan couldn‘t help but

notice he still had a tendency to shelve problems rather than confront

them immediately. A prime example being that, for weeks, he‘d been

studiously ignoring the fact that he had a key to Nick‘s house, spent

five or six nights out of every week there, and was, for all intents and

purposes, living with Nick.

Though his days of therapy had come to an end, the habit of self-

examination remained strong enough for Logan to admit that he and

Nick
should
have a talk about their living arrangements. Unfortunately,

his six months with Trudy hadn‘t given him the mettle to really force

the issue. And it did seem like it might be Logan‘s job to do so, since

other than handing over the key and accepting Logan‘s regular offers to

pay for groceries and help with chores, Nick hadn‘t broached the

subject either.

Logan laughed to himself, thinking that if he had hooked up with

a woman this same way, they would have had a serious talk a long time

ago.
Oh, yeah, you could bet on that.
He did suddenly wonder how

anything significant got settled between two guys. Would they be

sharing this house for the next couple years, both pretending that a

casual encounter had somehow stretched into a two-year-long date?

Whatever the answer to that question was, Logan had no intention

of resolving the matter that night. Between hectic work schedules for

both men and a weekend with his girls, Logan hadn‘t spent any quality

time with Nick in almost a week. And that was too goddamn long. His

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Felicia Watson

libido had been simmering the entire ride home, and the sight that

greeted him in the front room turned the heat up even more.

Nick was stretched out on the couch, perusing a dusty-looking

textbook. As soon as he caught sight of Logan, he dropped his book on

the coffee table and smiled broadly. ―Hey! You‘re earlier than I

expected.‖

―Yeah, managed to finish up tonight,‖ Logan answered, crossing

the room in three quick strides. He bent down and kissed Nick,

catching him as he was sitting up. Logan slid in next to the welcoming

warmth and, without further preamble, attacked Nick‘s neck,

alternating hot, wet kisses with teasing bites.

―I was gonna ask if you were hungry,‖ Nick gasped. ―But—‖

―Hungry for a piece of you,‖ Logan rumbled, his nimble fingers

busily undoing buttons and exposing more skin to his assault. ―Ain‘t

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