17 Last Times

⤹15❁ Alliance

I really am on the roll, lol. Another chapter! Let's gooooo!

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𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓮

It's almost midnight when I hear a knock on my door, so quiet, as though I hallucinated it. Convinced that I did, I focus back on the folder before me.

Only a few seconds later, another tentative tap reaches my ears. I stand up from the settee, tighten the belt of my white bathrobe around my waist, slide my feet into a pair of furry slippers and head for the door.

"Jesus Christ." I gasp, staring at William in shock. His face and hands are covered in shades of red and black. "Are you alright!?"

"Can I come in, please?" He stares at me with a tornado of emotions whirling in his eyes.

I think about the mess in my house and the folder that lies on the coffee table. "I don't think it's the best idea. It's quite late."

"Please. I won't take long." He's relentless. "I tried painting to get out of my head, like you've taught me to, but it didn't really work." He grasps something from beside him, something I couldn't see before as it was rested against the wall.

I analyze the painting his fingers are now stubbornly clasped on. It isn't art. It's just a combination of random, aggressive strokes of scarlet and black coupled with a few cuts gouged in the canvas.

"Nicole, please," he begs, again, and he looks so vulnerable that it momentarily wrecks the walls of stubbornness that I've raised within me.

"Alright." I let out a breath of capitulation and hold the door wide open. "But don't you dare complain about the mess."

He steps inside and as soon as he reaches the living room, his feet come to an instantaneous halt.

"Woah," he drawls the word, absolutely stunned. "The fuck happened in here!?"

"I told you not to complain. You're the one who insisted on coming in."

He blinks, stupefied. "Well, I am not complaining. I'm just . . . surprised?" He sounds beyond confused. "Why is it so messy?" He drags his sight across the room, disgustingly cluttered with dirty dishes, disarranged and mostly dirty clothes, empty wine bottles, partially eaten food and a pile of disorganized documents.

I bite into the inside of my cheek, embarrassed. "Even a therapist is bound to have a bad day . . . or two."

"Don't get me wrong but this isn't what two days of not cleaning looks like. Unless you've thrown a freaking party." He glances down at the stained floor. "What happened, Nicole? Why do you live like this? Are you alright?"

"I thought I was supposed to listen to you, not the other way around."

"Well, looking at the state of your house, I'm sure I can spare a few minutes and focus on you instead, rather than me."

I hide my hands under my armpits, enduring the never-ending embarrassment. I could carry on with my evasive facade but I've known William for too long. Once he's onto something, there's no way of stopping this boy. I sigh. "I've lost my family. My husband and son have both moved out. After Cassie had died, nothing was the same anymore, so . . . they left," I disclose, scrambling to sound as unbothered as I only can.