One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning: Wheeler, #3

By Sara Butler Zalesky

It's the start of a new year for World Champion cyclist Loren Mackenzie and already, her luck has taken a nosedive. Tensions rise at training camp in Mallorca, Spain, with the arrival of team sponsor, Ryzak Sports. There's something familiar about Maksim Ryzak's charm, and while Loren can see through it, she can't shake the attraction.

The Spring Classics begin with races in Belgium, the Netherlands, and Italy, where rivals become allies and friends become adversaries. Loren is tested in both mind and body, but she is determined to prove herself worthy of being a World Champion.

Fingers are pointed at Loren when a reporter hints at her involvement in a doping scheme allegedly begun by Felix Lalonde. She denies it, but her fears that no one will believe her drag her down. When pictures of Graham with another woman are published by the tabloids, a match ignites that could burn their relationship to the ground.  

But, as one fire is put out, another takes its place. Loren is still haunted by Felix, and it's his voice in her ear in competition, whispering she's not good enough. Even with her friends and family rallying behind her, can Loren free herself once and for all?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Butler Zalesky
• Release date: Jun 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578521756

Sara Butler Zalesky

Sara has never lacked for imagination, but it wasn’t until the Fates decided to give the string of her life a tug, bringing her romantic leanings together with her passion for the sport of cycling and Poof! A story was written down and completed, much to her surprise and chagrin. She is a (self)published author of women’s fiction/sports romance series Wheeler featuring a female MC who is a professional cyclist.  Wheeler: In Darkness, There is Still Light is the second novel of the series and will end with Wheeler: One Fire Burns Out Another’s Burning currently in the editing stages. The author resides in the suburbs of Philadelphia, PA, with her husband and their son. Sara is a paralegal for a law firm in Chester County, Pa, an avid road cyclist, and indoor cycling instructor at a national chain. Connect with the author on Twitter and Instagram @sarazalesky

Book preview

Dedication

For

Patti Sue

and

Bob R.

In memory of

Paul Sherwin

and

Kelly Catlin

Disclaimer

Please be advised that this novel contains strong adult language, sexually explicit and intense scenes and is not intended for sensitive readers.

The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed herein belong solely to the author, and not necessarily those of the author’s publisher or employer, any particular organization, committee or other group or individual depicted.

This is a work of fiction. For the good and the bad, the names, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

That said, portions of this novel are derived from actual names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents. As such, they are meant as fictionalized depictions and/or dramatizations of those names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents. The use of such names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are not intended to disparage or harm any such person, place, business or event, unless said person, business or organizer replied to the author’s contact and consented to the use.

Speaking of persons, the individual characters in this work are fictional and/or inspired by several individuals and/or are from the author’s wildly creative imagination. That is, unless said person replied to the author’s contact and agreed to have a cameo.

Otherwise, the use of such personal characteristics is not intended to injure or vilify any individual personage, and you have the author’s sincerest apologies if you feel injured or vilified. Hit me up on Twitter. Let’s hug it out.

Please also note that the races depicted in this novel are real and I wholeheartedly encourage you to search for them on YouTube. Be inspired by the courage, heart, and grace of the incredible women racing bicycles and know, they do it for the love of the sport of cycling, not for the money.

11 January

Northaw, England

Loren Mackenzie padded into the gourmet kitchen, and the view out of the windows halted her steps. Mist clung to the fields of the Ridgeway.

Like a scene out of a horror movie. She shivered then smothered a sneeze into the sleeve of her thermal so she wouldn’t wake Graham. My head feels like it’s going to explode, she groaned and grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. Eyeing the canister of tea next to the tissues, she bent down to rummage through the cabinet in search of the electric kettle. After filling it with water and pressing start, she opened the enormous double-door refrigerator, jumping away when a can of Ryzak recovery drink fell from the shelf to land near her foot. The bright red leaping horse logo brought forth an unpleasant taste in her mouth as she chucked the can in the trash.

Another shudder went down her spine at the freshly-remembered photoshoot in New York, thanks to her friend and agent, Ron Hudson. Last night, he had emailed a mock-up of the new promo using one of the photos, along with a note that the commercial she shot with Jon Haskins, IDC’s men’s team leader, would be unveiled during training camp.

Loren heaved a sigh and grasped the lemon juice for her tea when her mobile pinged on the counter. 

Speak of the Devil. Her eyes narrowed at the text. Nice work on giving cozy a new definition? She opened the attached photo and her jaw dropped. The grainy shot was of them kissing with his hand was up her shirt in what Graham had assumed was a hidden alcove. 

‘Hunky actor, Graham Atherton gets cozy with girlfriend, pro cyclist, Loren Mackenzie while on holiday together in Iceland.’

Oh my god. She rolled her eyes and plopped down on a stool at the island. Hunky? Really? Her mobile buzzed another text from Ron. 

Never fear. I’ve taken care of it.

You better have, she muttered as she typed.

You’re up early, Lancelot. Hunky? Are they kidding?

Loren smirked at his reply.

Late. I’m up late. TTFN

After a quick glance at the still not boiling kettle, she swiped through her photos when she came to a video of her best friend and teammate, Cece Taylor, skipping around on a snow-covered street. Loren snorted with the laughter in the background when her friend slipped and fell on her bum. 

I’m glad they came with us. Her smile softened at a photo of Cece hugging her boyfriend, Anthony Ainsworth, Loren’s pseudo big brother. She swiped the screen again and gazed at the face of a man with a grin much like her own.

And then there’s my real big brother. Adam’s jaw was wider and his eye color was a tinge more brown than gray, but there was no denying the resemblance in their dark auburn hair, high cheekbones, and tapered nose, including the sprinkling of freckles.

I’ve missed him since he moved out, even though we text all the time. She and Graham helped him move out of the house on Vineyards shortly before they were all supposed to visit their aunt and uncle in Rochester for Christmas. Adam begged off, claiming something with work.

Yah, well, if you went, you could have drawn some heat off me, Loren told his picture. Instead, Maggie and Randall cornered her almost as soon as she and Graham arrived, demanding a more thorough explanation of the events surrounding the death of Felix Lalonde. With a sniffle, she shoved the dark thoughts away and started a video she took dancing with Graham on New Year’s Eve with Cece and Anthony in Iceland.

Twenty-four hours of darkness was strange, and the foursome found themselves in a nightclub at noon, then skiing under the lights at three in the morning. Loren touched a picture to enlarge it, focusing on Graham grinning ear to ear as he stood in the middle of a hotel room made of ice.

He loved that hotel suite, but soaking in the volcanic hot pools was way more awesome. Her smile vanished at remembering how Cece and Anthony also asked some hard questions. It took several false starts for her to explain why she hadn’t spent more than an hour in the house in Enfield. They were visibly shaken when she told them about the tiny camera in the ceiling light fixture in her bedroom, and the one the police found just above the fireplace in the living room.

Felix took my sanctuary from me. The soreness in her throat ratcheted up as her gaze went around the great room. A natural stone fireplace dominated the wall opposite her and before it, a nest of giant bean bag chairs, similar to the ones at Benny and Alejandra Wallace’s New York penthouse. An ‘L’ shaped sofa sectional took up the center of the room, surrounding a square, concrete top coffee table.

The huge argument we had over that thing when I wanted to acid wash it like Claire and Jared’s kitchen counters but Graham wanted to keep it natural. A crooked smile formed, recalling how they made up on top of it. Her humor faded though, taking in the remainder of the room. The colorful Art Deco prints and heirloom dining set were things they chose together. 

I thought I could feel at home here. The kettle began to whistle and she hurried over to the counter to silence it. Enough wool gathering. She got up, poured hot water over a tea infuser in her thermos, then headed back into the bedroom.

Pale light filtered through sheer drapes over the glass doors on the far side of the room. A red velvet chaise lounge and glass top coffee table faced the outside, with more abstract artwork in bright colors on the dove gray walls. Further into the room was the king-size bed, featuring a luxuriously soft pillow-top mattress, flanked by dark wood night tables with matching lamps Loren found at an antique shop in St. Albans. Then she drank in the man on the bed.

Still asleep and sprawled out on his stomach, he faced the doorway where she stood. Lopsided eyebrows. Perfectly straight nose. The corners of his full lips turned down in sleep. Sable brown hair curled at the ends. Sideburns melding with a close-cropped reddish-brown beard. Her gaze continued over his broad shoulders and muscular back, trim waist and hips, then down his slim legs that ended with his large feet hanging off the end of the bed.

Graham Atherton. A-list actor. My knight in a shiny Jaguar. How did I get so lucky? He shifted, and his movement pulled at the white sheet barely covering his naked bum. Seriously, what if there’s a fire? Her giggle turned into a loud sneeze, and Graham woke with a sharp inhale, popping up on his forearms.

Who? What? Oh. He let out a groan and flopped back down.

Sorry, Loren murmured, moving to the bedside. He turned over to his back and yawned, causing her to yawn back. Stop that! she laughed. Graham coughed, then cocked his head. 

Why are you dressed? he rumbled. You should be naked in bed with me.

I have to see Dr. Pallas this morning, she replied, tracing her finger along his shoulder.

Oh right. A familiar pinched expression came over him. I am rather proud of you for sticking with it. I know it’s not easy.

Oh, ye who only went to two appointments, she teased, leaning over to kiss him.

I know, but I’d rather talk to you about all my shit, he croaked. You understand me better.

She’d understand you just fine if you gave her a chance, but I get it. She’s my shrink. Loren dropped her chin, her hair falling over her face. Still, I appreciate you went with me. He moved her hair to uncover her smirk. But I’d rather be naked in bed with you.

Would you now? he chuckled, pulling her down on top of him, only for her to turn away and sneeze again. He touched her forehead with the back of his hand. Bless you. You feel a bit warm, love.

That’s your fault, she purred and kissed him again. His hands wandered under her thermal shirt to touch her skin, making her writhe away. Cold hands! Cold!

Graham pulled back, frowning. You’re not usually this warm.

I’m fine, really, but I do have to get going.

He kissed her nose. Enjoy the drive in your new car.

Oh, I will. She shot him a grin and scooted off the bed.

Ah, any suggestions on what to make for dinner with your brother tonight? His question turned Loren around.

Make whatever you’re in the mood to make, she said, then pointed at him. Just no cream sauce! they laughed in unison. She started for the door but turned back to him, her smile gone.

I love you.

I know, he said, and his come-hither look made her want to jump back into bed with him.

Would you stop that.

Stop what? His eyes narrowed further.

Stop giving me the smolder, she answered, clenching her teeth.

Is it working?

Loren folded her arms over her chest. Yes, but no.

Damn bloody shrinks, Graham muttered, and her laughter echoed through the house.

Out in the garage, the rising door slowly revealed a royal blue hood with orange and white racing stripes to the morning sunlight. Loren breathed in the new car smell sliding into the smoke gray leather driver’s seat of her Mini Cooper Clubman.

My first new car. Pressing the ignition button, the engine growled to life. She depressed the clutch, pushed the gear shift into first, then gave it some gas. The Mini jerked forward and stalled.

She pursed her lips. Damn parking brake.

***

Loren sat across from Dr. Pallas in her cozy office and her eyes skipped around the room, taking in the cluttered shelves and curled up yoga mats to settle on the psychologist’s thin face. Her curious green eyes were locked on her, sending a shiver down her spine and she pulled her jacket tighter over her shoulders.

Are you not feeling well, Loren?

Huh? She turned back to the doctor, accidentally kicking the coffee table separating them.

Shit, sorry, Loren muttered, righting the small vase that had tipped over. I’m fine. She brushed the back of her hand over her damp forehead. I must have picked up a sniffle on the plane back from Iceland. She cleared her throat. So, how was your holiday?

Very nice, thank you, Dr. Pallas replied. Did you go to Rochester as you planned?

Yes, Graham went with me, but Adam wasn’t able to go. He said he had to go to Atlanta for work. Her gaze slid to her hands, wadded up in the hem of her shirt. Parts of it were great, you know? Graham and I went sledding with the kids, and we took the horses out for a ride in the snow. That was magical. Her thoughts drifted, seeing him riding her gray roan gelding, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

And what of the other parts?

I, uh … All the spiteful words Loren spoke to her aunt echoed in her ears. Her throat tightened and each shallow breath burned in her lungs. Then a hand entered her view, and she stared at it for a long moment, knowing what the gesture meant. She didn’t want to take it, but grasped it anyway.

Why do you do this to me? Loren sobbed. Every time I come here, I turn into a blubbering mess!

The doctor gave a gentle smile. It’s been several weeks since your last visit, she replied, and whatever happened has caused you to revert back to withdrawing and denying your pain. Touch makes you feel vulnerable. Dr. Pallas offered her other hand and Loren took it. But you know if you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.

Yah, I know. I’m sorry, she sniffled, and more tears fell. The doctor released her to offer the box of tissues. Thanks. Loren blotted her nose, delaying the inevitable as long as she could.

Maggie and Randall wanted to know what really happened to Felix, but I get overwhelmed by it still. I mean, he died right in front of me. She pressed her lips together to force the tears back down. The guilt eats at me, but then he put cameras in my house, in my bedroom. He was watching me all the time and listening to every word I said. She took a shuddering breath but it was like inhaling glass.

I couldn’t tell them so Graham explained enough for them to leave us alone, Loren croaked. I thought it was over but then Maggie brought out all these magazines with my picture on the front, from when he left me. She hiccupped. She didn’t get that we moved past it. She wouldn’t let it go and I got angry and I yelled at her and then I started screaming at her. She covered her mouth, seeing the shock and fear in her aunt’s eyes.

The awful things I said! I couldn’t stop. Graham pushed me out of the house because I was ready to hit her. She grabbed another tissue and coughed into it. I ran out to the barn, but my cousin, Kevin followed me and I threw a horseshoe at him! I could have hurt him. How could I have done that?

But it didn’t hit him, and you didn’t strike your aunt, Dr. Pallas said, her calm manner irritating Loren’s frayed nerves.

But I wanted to and that’s the problem, she bit back. I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to be like my father! Loren bent forward and covered her head with her arms. There was a rustle of fabric, then arms went over her shoulders and she couldn’t hold back anymore. Harsh sobs wracked her body but her chest hurt too much to let it continue. With several shallow coughs, her tears subsided and Loren moved away from the comfort of Dr. Pallas, sitting on the coffee table before her.

You are not your father, the psychologist said sharply, then patted Loren’s knee and returned to her seat. Our focus can now move to retrain those pathways. From what I recall, you and Graham have a period of separation coming.

Loren nodded. I’ll be in Mallorca for three weeks while he’s in New York and California.

Have you spoken to Cece or Penny about helping you?

Penny’s not back from medical leave yet, she answered. But I haven’t had a panic attack since November.

Until you were triggered by your aunt, Dr. Pallas countered, and Loren scrunched her nose.

That was a panic attack?

More so anxiety, but with your anger issues, you tend to fight rather than run away, Dr. Pallas answered. It would be in your best interests to speak to Cece, and possibly someone else you trust, your friend Jon, perhaps. I have a feeling neither would let you down. She stood and offered her hand again. Your relationships are a good subject to discuss while we’re working on your relaxation exercises. Loren heaved a sigh and slowly got out of her chair.

Could we just do corpse pose? That’s all I have the energy for.

Perhaps this is a good time to try something different, Dr. Pallas replied and started for a doorway partially hidden by a heavy brocade curtain. Loren followed for a step, but stopped.

You never did tell me why you have me doing yoga as part of my therapy.

The therapist smiled over her shoulder. I’ve found with patients who are hyperactive, yoga gives that energy a focus while allowing the mind to open. Loren’s mouth dropped but she snapped it closed.

I’m not hyperactive, she grumbled and shuffled onward.

***

On the drive back to the house on Vineyards, her brain was on overload, even though all Loren had to do was lie on the massage table for the Reiki treatment.

It got rid of my stuffy head for a while. But, her sinus pain had returned, which made it hard to think, and she wanted to think about the psychologist’s observations about her relationships. She sniffled and brushed the cuff of her jacket sleeve under her nose.

Everything she said made sense. Heather and Ingrid were sinkholes, dragging me down and sucking all my energy. Emma and Aria are the mother figures. Gabi and Cece, my sisters. She huffed a laugh. Cece batters me like a true sister.

Her thoughts turned with the bend in the road. And then there’s Maggie. All these years, I’ve rejected her, but she’s the only mother I have and yet, I can’t let the pain go. Why can’t I let it go?

This isn’t getting me anywhere but to headache-ville, Loren grumbled and turned into the car park of Savoy’s grocery. I need cold medicine, and maybe some orange sherbet.

When Loren returned to the house on Vineyards, Graham was already in the garage with his jacket on and car keys in hand.

Where are you off to? she asked when he opened her door and helped her out of the car.

I reckoned I’d make a beef stew in the crock pot tonight and I need a few things, he replied, then frowned and brushed his knuckle against her cheek. But, perhaps I should make chicken soup instead. Your cheeks are bright pink.

That explains all the weird looks I got at Sav—. She smacked her forehead. Dammit, I should have texted you. I just came from there.

Ah, but then I’d have to write down the secret recipe, Graham answered, tapping his temple, but his frown reemerged. If you’re not feeling well, perhaps we should cancel your brother.

I got some cold medicine, Loren said, holding up the shopping bag. Riding the trail will open my sinuses, and I have a lot to think about. He raked his teeth over his lip, clearly wanting to say something but only let out a sharp sigh.

Then I’ll meet you out there, and after, we can have a soak and talk about your session. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close so he couldn’t see her eyes watering.

That’s my favorite part.

***

Loren rolled to a stop at the seven-mile marker after sneezing several times in a row. She glowered at the signpost, sniffling, then brushed the back of her gloved hand under her nose.

Yah, this was not a good idea. She turned around and started off with her lungs feeling coated in steel wool. Loren pushed through the discomfort, instead focusing on keeping her legs moving over the muddy terrain. Soon, a short downhill was before her, marking a half mile to the house. 

A sneeze snapped her eyes shut, and the next thing she saw was the gray sky above her. Mud squelched against her thick Lycra leggings when she sat up and turned to look behind her. Her cyclocross bike was lying across the path with its front wheel still embedded in a deep hole.

Oh fuck. Rolling over to her hands and knees, Loren shifted her weight to her feet, and pain shot up her left leg from her ankle. Goddammit, she hissed, then tried again, gingerly this time, and her ankle was able to take more of her weight. You’re okay. Just get back to the house. She hobbled over to her bike and grimaced, both in pain and in seeing the full damage. The carbon wheel was snapped in half.

Then her gaze locked on the empty space at the center of the handlebars and she sucked in a breath. Her mobile phone was missing.

No, no, no! She dove into the mud puddle, sloshing around when her hand encountered something thin and solid. Triumphantly, she held up her mobile and the screen blazed to life. Oh thank god. She lumbered to her feet, wincing and swearing in every language she knew. Once again, she started off, limping down the trail, dragging her broken bike. Eyes on her footing, she didn’t realize someone was with her until a hand caught her wrist.

Hey! Loren readied a right cross when she saw it was Graham. His hands were up, and his expression was somewhere between about to laugh and very worried.

Darling, what happened? he chortled. You’re a mess. She scrunched her nose at his blindingly white legs in tiny running shorts.

I sneezed and I didn’t see the tree root hole thingy. I’m pretty sure I flipped over but I’m okay. She flinched as his cool hands cupped her cheeks.

Did you hit your… His eyes went wide. You’re burning up.

No, I’m not, she replied, punctuated by her chattering teeth. I’m freezing and looking at you in those tiny shorts is making me colder.

Back at the house, Graham marched a shivering Loren straight to the bath, then helped her peel out of her mud-crusted clothes. Her harsh coughs echoed off the tiles of the bathroom, making him cringe.

That does not sound good at all, love, he said, following her into the shower enclosure. Water and steam shot from jets embedded in the ceiling and walls, sending rivulets over her lean curves. The muscles of her arms and legs had become more clearly defined, telling the tale of the strain she’d been under for the last few months.

And when Loren is under stress, she rides her bike. He and Adam had tried to keep her away from the tabloid news sites, but inevitably she would see something about the death of Felix, or the trial of his murderer, and her anxiety would boil over. She’d be off on the trail by herself, or in the garage on the rollers or her bike trainer, pushing herself far too hard. His eyes narrowed at a cluster of red marks on her left hip and the back of her thigh. 

"This regime your new soigneur has you on is not doing you any good, Graham said, joining her under the hot water. It’s been six weeks and this is the third time you’ve taken ill. He touched her hip and she twisted to look at the marks. Those are going to be dark."

Reg thinks I could be faster in the mountains if I were leaner, Loren replied and her expression clouded. I was eighteen percent body fat in November, and he still said I was overweight.

You’re not eighteen percent anymore.

Sixteen, even after vacation, she answered. He wants me at fourteen, but I’m not built like that, and it’s been torture just losing two percent.

Graham curled his lip. And that right there is reason enough not to listen to him anymore. You were plenty fast, but I’m more concerned about your mental health. He brushed his hand over her arm. You were less, um, waspish before this, when you could eat carbs.

I’m sorr—. He put his finger over her lips, shaking his head slightly. She brought his palm to her lips. Right. Those words just roll off the tongue, don’t they? I wish I wasn’t so complicated. He chuckled softly and moved behind her, skimming his bare skin over hers.

You being complicated is what attracted me, Graham murmured, sliding her hair to the side to kiss her neck. You are intriguing and beguiling, and I just can’t resist. She shivered and turned around, sliding her hands over the wet ridges of his stomach. She raised her lips to meet his, but he pulled back.

Oh, no. I’m resisting now. I’m not getting your cooties, he laughed, then kissed her forehead, stifling his concern at the heat against his lips. Rinse that grease mark off your nose then come and get in the soaker with me. She laughed hoarsely, swatting at his bum as he left the shower. After starting the water for the tub, Graham padded over to the vanity and opened a few drawers in search of a digital thermometer. He then met her at the door with her robe and handed over the unit.

Pop that under your tongue and we’ll see whether I need to call off tonight’s dinner. Loren grumbled under her breath as she sat on the side of the tub, then coughed a few times before doing what was asked. When the thermometer emitted three long beeps, she handed it to him without looking at it.

His stomach sank at the reading. Darling, it’s 39.6.

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed. What does that mean?

It means you need to get into the tub, and I’ll be back with some ice.

Her nose scrunched. Wait. That’s… her eyes went wide, that’s 104!

Close, but you did just get out of a hot shower. Get into the tub, please and we’ll see if we can bring it down a bit. Graham donned his robe and went into the kitchen where his mobile was charging on the counter. He pressed a contact, then cleared his throat as his mother, Dina, answered.

Hello, darling. How was your holiday in Iceland?

It was fun, but we’re both glad to be home. He coughed softly. Mum, Loren seems to have caught a bug or something and I’m unsure of what to do. She has a sore throat with a high fever.

"Oh, goodness. A warm bath, not hot. Lots of fluids. Ibuprofen is better than Tylenol to bring the fever down, but mostly she needs to rest. I know she’s not a fan of that. Is she coughing?"

Yes. Heavy and wet sounding, he said. She says her lungs are itchy.

That could be the beginnings of pneumonia, Dina answered. She needs to see her GP before it gets worse.

I’ll do that. Thanks, Mum. He exhaled, ruminating over taking Loren to a public clinic when his mother spoke.

I could take her to the clinic if you’re concerned. No one would bother with us. 

Thank you. I’ll let you know. He disconnected the call and put his mobile back on the charger. She needs to go, but how can I keep us from getting mobbed? He shook his head. No one looked twice at them in Savoy’s, or the shops in Potters Bar where only their neighbors approached them. It was only when they ventured someplace more public - like the Ikea near Edmonton - where the situation had turned stressful. Store security had to escort them to their car.

Fuck it, he muttered, then rummaged through the pantry for an ice bucket. Once found, he filled it and headed for the bedroom where Loren was already in the tub.

He held up the bucket. Please forgive me, but I have to do this.

I know, she groaned, her teeth chattering even before the pieces of ice slid into the water. I shouldn’t have a fever. I took the cold medicine before I left.

That stuff doesn’t last more than a few hours, darling. I’m going to ring Adam and cancel. She sat up, and her movement sent water over the sides of the tub.

Please don’t, she whined. I won’t get to see him again until I get back in February.

I need to take you to the clinic, he replied. I doubt we’ll be back in any semblance of timeliness. She sighed and slid back under the water.

Fine, but I’ll call him. Loren popped up again. Wait, if we’re going to the clinic, he could go with us. Him scowling at everybody would be good, right?

I reckon. Graham dumped the rest of the ice into the water, then took off his robe to settle into the tub behind her. It’s not that bad, the temperature, he noted. She sighed, leaning against him with her head on his shoulder.

It’s not as cold as my soaks usually are, she replied. He swept his hand over her forehead and the drops of water quickly evaporated from her skin.

Tell me about your session with Dr. Pallas.

Her eyes fluttered closed. Just don’t stop doing that. He smiled and slowly stroked her hair. We talked about how I attract the same personalities over and over, she told him. The mother figure, the sister, and the sinkhole.

He huffed. I understand the first two, but the sinkhole?

That was Heather and Philippe, and to a certain respect, Ingrid. I kept putting all my energy into the relationship but it would never be enough for them to be happy. Loren took a deep breath, which ended in a burst of harsh coughing. It isn’t anything I haven’t heard before, but it’s a little disturbing to see the pattern with Ingrid. I really thought she was my friend. She moved to look at him with watery eyes.

Maggie’s a whole ‘nother thing. She’s the only mother I have, but it hurts still. He nodded, his mouth tightening. She told me she had to leave me because she couldn’t deal with my pain, Loren said, her voice going up an octave. I don’t even know what the fuck that means, she couldn’t deal. You just do and push everything else aside. 

But that’s not living, he said. That’s surviving.

Yah, that’s what Pallas said. Her expression softened as she looked up at the skylight. I had a jewelry box once. It was pink satin with white lace and ribbons. I don’t remember where I got it from or what happened to it. I wish I did. It had a little ballerina that would pop up and dance to music. Their gaze reconnected and he could feel the pain reflected there. I used that box as a place to stuff my emotions and bad memories until I was numb, she said. I imagined them as little bits of paper and shove them in the box. 

You’ve never told me that, Graham said, gliding his hand over her knee under the water.

I’ve never told anyone, especially since I still do it. She dropped her chin lower, and looked at him through her lashes, her storm cloud eyes dark and mysterious. I don’t deserve you, she whispered,