Winning His War

47

"You help Barrett," I pointed out.

"Barrett and I don't tend to fool around. Besides, with Barrett's arson record he'd be in jail the second he admitted he had a problem. You could find help as one of your fake names and never have to worry about that."

"We both know I could only get so far before having to admit what I do for work. Any guy with half a brain would at the very least drop me as a client the second word got out."

"There's plenty you can work on without mentioning your job," he soothed, sensing the rising anger but his soft voice did little to help.

"It's you or no one," I threatened, never looking away from the food in front of me or allowing the glare on my face to lessen.
"Either you help me or no one will."

"Jem be realistic. You know I'm right. There will be things we will butt heads on, you'll be pissed at me, you'll try to push me away and Dev and Barrett will take your side and help push me out. It'll end up hurting Barrett's trust in me too. Let me help you find someone else."

"It's you or no one," I seethed out, looking away from the food for this first time since I started. "I've had a therapist before; it didn't end well for me. I can't do that again. It's either you or no one."

Andrew didn't back down at the glare I had focused on him. He held my gaze firmly, attempting to work out what I had said before giving up and sighing.

"Fine but you need to know I'm not taking it easy on you just because we fool around sometimes or because I consider us friends."

"Fair enough," I scoffed as I looked back at the stovetop.

"I also want you to keep an open mind and to not fight me every step of the way. You've accepted you need help, now accept the help you asked for."

"Take your time picking a color," he soothed as he reached for my balled hands. "Take breaks if you need it. When we're actually dying it we'll take as many breaks as you need. Take a deep breath, calm your heart rate; you can do this. We're just looking at colors, this isn't meant to be the hard part."

His hands were warm against mine. His eyes were calm and a smile covered his face as if he didn't sense the panic running through me.

I pulled my hands away from his before joining Patrick to look at colors. My heart was still pounding in my chest but I forced myself to put on a calm face.

"Dark red would look good on you," Patrick said as he stared down at the book before putting it beside my head to judge it better.

My chest tightened at the idea. It was too big of a change.

"Maroon would wash me out," I lied as my eyes scanned the colors. Andrew stood back, observing my every move without saying a word.

"What about blonde," he asked as he picked up another box. "Dev said you looked really good in it before and it's your natural color," he said as he ran his fingers though my hair to reveal the grown out roots. The soothing motion did little to help the panic. I'd rather die than go back to blonde.

"It's too plain," I dismissed.

He hummed at the lame excuse before removing his hand and going back to the boxes.

My eyes scanned all of them; the only one that helped the panic was the black that I've been using for the past 2 years.

"All we have left is the purple or blue," Patrick pointed out when I rejected another color though his voice remained calm and patient. "Didn't you say you had blue for a while at some point?"