Locked and Loaded (Bullet, #6) (19 page)

That made her feel like an asshole.  She’d just
had
to push.  “Oh.  I’m sorry, Zane.”

“Nah.  It’s good for me to talk about it.  This guy—my shrink—is a really good guy.  I’ve never had a therapist like him, someone I actually feel like talking to, someone I want to help me.”

“That’s good, Zane.  That’s
great
.”

“Yeah, it is.”  He set his glass on the coffee table then, too, and looked Jennifer in the eyes.  His gaze then was intense and she froze like a scared little rabbit.  She knew what his intention was—to kiss her—and she was helpless in his shadow.  She
wanted
him to kiss her—wanted and needed it badly.

She had missed him and, for the first time in years, felt hope for him.

For
them
.

That sense of relief did wonders for her desire.

So she leaned forward to meet his lips, but it seemed like it took forever for them to actually touch each other.  She could feel his warm breath on her skin before his lips brushed against hers, and by the time his tongue tentatively entered her mouth, she was desperate and on fire.  Almost against her will, she realized her hands had grabbed his shirt and she forced them to relax, laying them flat against his chest before letting them drift up.  He was still kissing her hard—the first of many—by the time her fingers were coiled into his hair.

How the hell did he do it?  She was already hot and bothered and wet—and considering letting him have his way with her on the couch.  It hadn’t been that long since they’d been together, but this time she was fully aware of what Zane had been going through over the past month or so.  It wouldn’t be just a
holy-crap-I-missed-you-and-forgot-how-attracted-to-you-I-am
fuck; instead, it would be a completely controlled, fully aware journey, exploring their love for each other in the best way possible.

So when she ran her hands down his chest with the intent of feeling his bare skin and began running her fingers along his flesh underneath his shirt just above his waistband, the last thing she expected was what happened.

Zane broke off their kiss and Jennifer could tell he was struggling, but he said, “Jen, babe, this might not be a good idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just...I’m on, like, the first few steps of the most intense therapy I’ve ever gotten—hell, that I’ve ever voluntarily participated in.”

“So what’s that mean?”  She noticed her thighs were clenched against each other—not good.

“It means...we need to wait.”  He stroked her cheek—so sweet—and she got lost in the sincerity she could see in his beautiful blue eyes.  “I want to—God, I want to make love to you in the worst way—but I think we need to hold off till I feel...
stronger
.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew she wanted to do what was best for Zane, no matter how desperate and needy she felt in the moment.  If Zane’s recovery was all she hoped it would be, they’d have plenty of time to make love in the future.

Plenty
of time.

So she swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth and forced her jaw to move, to respond to his words.  “Whatever you need, Zane.  I’m here for you...whatever you need that to be.”

“Goddamn, Jennifer Manders.  You’re a good woman.  What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

She had no idea how to respond to that, but she’d never thought of love in terms of
deserving
or
earning
.  She’d always felt an unexplainable pull toward Zane, as if he was the earth and she was the moon—they
belonged
together...or they’d suffer apart and alone their entire lives because there was no one else out there for them—or for
her
, at any rate.  So if they could finally make it work?

She was beginning to feel a little like Cinderella and maybe her dream was finally coming true.  If that was the case, yes, she could wait.  She could wait as long as he needed.  And she would.

––––––––

“Z
ANE CARSON!  OH, my gosh.  How have you been?”

“Amazing, Jen.  You have no idea.  What about you?  Val said you’re living up here in the Denver area.”

“Yeah.  I grew up here, so it’s like coming home.  I have an internship downtown, but I’m looking for full-time work in the meantime, because my internship will be over before I know it.  I have a roommate and we have a cute little apartment.  Mom’s moved to Pueblo, so I can’t just pop off to see her whenever I feel like it, but I’m closer nowadays than I used to be.  Life’s good, I guess.”

“Are you...seeing anybody?  Jen?”

“Zane, I—”

“I know things went to shit last time, Jen, but I—I really want to see you.  We’re older now, more mature, and...”

“Um...”

“I really want to see you.  Dinner or movies?  Nothing high pressure.  It doesn’t have to be like an official date.  It can just be two friends catching up...”

Zane sat in the lobby, listening for Dr. Harvey to call his name.  He’d grown used to the nondescript waiting room—its muted lighting, the watercolor paintings on the wall, the beige sofa and chairs lining the walls, even the end tables with stacks of magazines for patients to read while they waited.  Zane preferred the company of his smart phone, though, and he’d find funny shit online to keep him occupied until the doc was ready for him.

He understood why the windows in this place were covered.  They still let light in—they were covered by white mini blinds so the sun could brighten the room with minimal assistance from the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, but they stopped passersby from seeing in.  Why?  Because no one wanted anyone else to know they were seeing a head shrink.

At least,
Zane
didn’t want the whole world knowing.  Yeah, he already owed so much to Dr. Harvey, but that didn’t mean he wanted to publicize his journey.  Hell, he had a hard enough time talking to Jen about it.

So when Dr. Harvey took him back into his office, Zane started the conversation.  “The other night, I resisted having sex.”

“Really?  Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Zane told him some about the date and then said, “We were getting a little hot and heavy, but I knew that was dangerous.  And I would have liked nothing more, you know?  But I told her maybe it’s better if we didn’t.  Not yet.”

“Resisting an urge.  That’s good, Zane.  That is what your response to a lot of your temptations must come down to, and the more you do it, the better you’ll get at it.  Trust me.  But I want to know:  did it feel like a compulsion—like you simply
had
to do it—or was the desire coming from somewhere else inside?  I ask, because...isn’t Jennifer the woman you told me you see your future with?”

“Yeah.”

“So...could you tell what was driving your need?  Was it a desire for closeness and love or was it something else?”

“God, doc, I have no idea.  When I get horny, I want to have sex.”

Dr. Harvey smiled.  “Fair enough.  That you were able to resist the urge gives me great hope.  Are you still clean?”

“Yep.”

“Can you see now how being drunk or high can lower any kind of resistance you might otherwise be able to offer?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“There are many different ways we can treat you, Zane, including inpatient, but I really think, based on our past conversations and your lifestyle, that Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is definitely the way to go.  Basically, what CBT does is help you deal with your addictions by giving you tools to fight off temptations.  We’ll spend our time finding out what those tools are.”

“Sounds good.”

“You will have homework.”

“Homework?”

“Yes.  I need you to spend time outside of here thinking, looking inside yourself, finding answers, discovering your strengths.  I’ll also have you keep a journal.”

“I used to do that a long time ago.”

“Then doing it again shouldn’t be so difficult.  And...”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a group—it’s a sexual addictions group based on the twelve-step recovery model.  Group therapy has its pros and cons, and I realize it sometimes seems counterintuitive to put a bunch of sex addicts together under the same roof, but it works for many people.”  Dr. Harvey quietly tapped his pen against the metal part of the clipboard on his lap.  “I’m not sure how well it would work for
you
, though.”

Zane shrugged.  “I could try it.”

“I know you’re a bit of a celebrity.  That is my hesitation.  If you’re distracting to the group for that reason...”

“Eh, I’m not worried about that so much.  More worried about putting myself in the same damn situations I’ve been in in the past, you know?  When you have a hot babe who’s ready, willing, and able and just your type...”

“And you’re addicted to sex, yes.  You would be putting yourself in a precarious situation, and I appreciate that you’re
thinking
about these things, Zane.  That’s progress.  You’re actually viewing yourself from a different angle, one that helps you see what’s real in your life and what control
you
have over your situation.”

That assessment of himself made him feel better.  “Yeah, that’s true.  Thanks, doc.”

“But don’t think it’s over.  You still have a lot of growing to do.”  Dr. Harvey looked down at the sheet of paper attached to his clipboard.  “As for the twelve-step group, there is one thing I’d like to mention.  Yes, certainly, these are people who have the same struggles as you—which is why it can actually be a very healing thing.  It’s support from people who are going through the same thing, who have
been there
.  They are not
groupies
looking to
score
, Zane.  They’re fellow addicts who want a sympathetic ear and are willing to listen as well.  So...give it some thought, okay?  And we’ll talk about it again in a week or so.  I think you could find it empowering.  As I said,
my
concern is that some of the people in the group could recognize you, and that could be distracting—for
all
of you.

“Just bear in mind that this will be a long road...but you won’t be going it alone.  That’s the main reason why I want to look at all your options—to give you the best hope for recovery.”

Zane listened, mulling over that and many other options—including
couples therapy
—Dr. Harvey went over with him.  The good thing was that he had choices—oh, so many choices.  Just a few months ago, he’d felt like he had none, like his only option was to keep doing what he’d been doing until he died or until he hit rock bottom and there was nowhere to go but up.  Dr. Harvey was showing Zane that he had hope and he had a life worth living...and that was worth every damn penny he paid the doctor each week.  Every damn penny.

* * *

J
ennifer was beginning to feel spoiled.  Val had asked if she wanted to go out to lunch again—twice in one month.  She didn’t know the last time that had happened.  She would have guessed it was before Val had kids, but that wasn’t true.  They didn’t have any money back then—they would have met at Taco Bell or Burger King, and it would have happened once a year.

But Val also said
no kids
if Jennifer could get by with it.  When Jennifer asked why, her friend said it was because she had a business proposition for her, and she knew they’d both be distracted if their kids were in tow.

So Jennifer asked if Kara would mind watching Zoe for a couple of hours on Saturday and the teenager said, “No problem.  I have no life.”  Jennifer often didn’t know how to take the girl’s sense of humor, but she was good to Zoe, and that was all that mattered.  Part of her felt guilty about not spending that time with her daughter, because Saturdays had usually been their day together and, if Val had wanted to have lunch, it was usually her
with
Zoe meeting Val (whether or not her friend had her own kids along with).  But Jennifer promised they’d have a wonderful girls’ night together, just mother and daughter, and that helped alleviate some of the guilty feelings.

So Jennifer met Val at an Indian restaurant in Westminster, a charming place in a small shopping center she’d never been to.  Val must have been waiting in her car, because she was walking toward Jennifer as she’d been making her way to the front of the restaurant.  The grass surrounding the small building was green and lush, making Jennifer feel like she wanted to slip off her sandals and take a walk.

But who had time for that stuff anymore?

Val hugged her friend as she got close.  “Thanks for meeting me.  You’re gonna love this place.  Amazing food.”

“I don’t eat Indian that often.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve had Indian since the first time you took me a few years ago.”

“Are you kidding?  Then you’re in for a treat.”  Val grabbed the door handle and paused.  “You
like
Indian, don’t you?  If not, there’s another restaurant or two around here.”

“No, this is good.  Honest.”

“Okay.”  Val flashed her always-charming smile and stepped inside.  Jennifer noticed first the pungent spices assaulting her nostrils, followed by the cool air hitting her face and shoulders.  After that, she noticed the closeness of the place and the exotic feel of the décor and understood why Val had wanted to come here.

The host sat them in a booth and took their drink orders after giving them two huge menus.  It was a good ten minutes before the two of them could actually talk.  Jennifer had had to ask a lot of questions, wanting to make sure she’d love her meal, and then they’d perused the menus quite a bit before settling on what they wanted.  Once their waiter had left to fill their orders, though, Jennifer decided to give Val her news before her friend hit her with whatever business matters she wanted to throw at her.

“So...Zane and I went out on a date last week—
and
Zoe went along.”

“What?  Really?  That’s great.”

“Yeah...it...turned out really well.  I think—I’m afraid to even say it, but I think whatever kind of therapy Zane’s doing for recovery is helping.”