Sinclair

Chapter Forty: From The Bottom Of My Heart

"YOUR EXPERT IS a shrink?" I ask dubiously, staring at the business card he's placed in my hands with disbelieving eyes. The card is, by all accounts, what a business card enthusiast—if one of those exists—would call an amazing card. The card is neat and the edges of the card are not the sharp edges on most business cards but instead, the edges are smooth and rounded. The card has simple yet intricate designs decorating it and a single name is written in elegant font. Melissa Simmons is written in a careful, graceful font and below her name is her contact information.

"She's not just any shrink," Sinclair says, plopping back down beside me. We're both sitting on the floor, too close for my comfort. He places an elbow on the couch and rests his chin on his fist, looking at the ceiling through narrowed eyes. Right now, he actually looks like he's God's gift to womankind. "She specializes in cases like yours."

I furrowed my eyebrows and tilted my head to one side, silently asking him to continue.

"Do you remember after when you first told me about your condition?"

I nod once. How could I ever forget? It seems so far away even though it only happened a month ago. One moment, I was overcome by feeling of pure lust for Sinclair and we were making out in the parking lot of Carla's with every cell in my body being hyper-aware of the feeling of his hands on my skin and the next minute, I was jolted out of that nice dream and forced back into reality when the Iron Order Groupies showed up. I had forced myself away from Sinclair and rushed home after that. I didn't even go inside my house, I just stayed in my car and cried until Sinclair showed up and I told him a little about why I acted the way I did.

The fact that that incident happened just a month ago truly is shocking to me.

"Well, I know this psychologist because, long story short, The Grave Rebels put out a hit on her son because he owed them money and I put an end to them since they were in my territory. She was extremely grateful and she told me if I ever needed anything, she'd help me right away as payment for saving her only child. When you told me about your condition, I called her and asked her about it. She said it was actually quite common—more common than people think—but that, because people don't consider it life-crippling, it's not talked about very often. Melissa specializes in cases like yours actually and she runs a group therapy session with people who have philophobia."

This is a complete surprise to me. In fact, it's so much of a surprise that I'm prompted to look back down at the card in my hand. At first, all that this card seemed like to me was laminated paper with words and numbers on it. But now, it was so much different. This card contained the name and number of a woman who specialized in helping people like me. All my life, people had written off my troubles as something I would grow out of, as something that was insignificant. In this world, if you didn't have a disease or a sickness that was debilitating and dangerous, you had no right to complain. I didn't have a huge mental illness, so the therapists didn't really give a damn.

And yet, here this woman was. Maybe she couldn't cure me. Maybe I would never be cured. But knowing that I wasn't alone and knowing that there were more people like me...Well, I would be lying if I said that thought didn't comfort me greatly.

"And you want me to go."

"I want you to go."

I spare a glance at Sinclair only to find that he's looking at me. He looks tired, I realize. He's been fighting with Lucky for territory non-stop this past couple of weeks and losing an old friend in that time had not made that fight any easier. Even still, my heart was still skipping beats and tripping all over itself at the mere sight of him.

Still, I felt the need to warn him.

"You know this might not work," I said quietly, looking away from him and staring straight at the business card in my hands, staring at Melissa's name like it was the most interesting thing I had ever laid eyes on. "You know there's a possibility that I may never get better."

I wasn't trying to be pessimistic but I did want to warn him. I knew the feeling of getting your hopes up only to be forced to watch them come crashing down. Maybe, with the things I've done, what I've been saying doesn't seem true but Sinclair is truly the last person I want to hurt. I would prefer to endure the most severe of pains if it meant that I would never have to hurt him again.

"Yeah, there's that possibility," he responded quietly, not sounding all that worried. "But if this doesn't work then I'll just find something else. Whatever the outcome is, you're all that I want, little goddess. I don't plan to just give you up so easily."

When I looked over at him, he was smiling softly. For some reason, I felt like I wanted to cry. I don't know what it was about his face that made me feel that way. Maybe it was guilt for feeling like—because of my condition—I was doing nothing but stringing him along. Maybe I felt thankful that he was here, that he was trying. Maybe it was because I knew Sinclair well enough to see deep down past the brave smile he was giving and I could see that he was hurting underneath. Maybe it was all of those things put together.

Whatever the reason, I felt like I needed to be closer to him. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his softly. Sinclair wobbled in surprise and that made me want to smile. I could never have imagined that I would have caught the man who couldn't be surprised by surprise. But, when he regained his composure, he wound his arms around his waist and kissed me back. It wasn't like any other kiss we had ever shared before. The kiss was like lying in a warm bed after you've been out working in the biting cold for hours. There was something comforting about it, something beautiful, something fragile.

Maybe that kiss was all of those things because that was truly our first kiss. All of the other kisses before had mattered but none of them mattered more than this. This was the first time that we hadn't kissed for lust or to apologize.

This was the first time I kissed Sinclair from the bottom of my heart.