“Yes!” he said overly loud and then closed his eyes. “I mean, yeah. Christ! This is so embarrassing.”
I rubbed his shoulder and leaned close. “Not at all.”
“It’s really not, Weston. It’s a natural response to fear, and because of what you went through, being frightened for your life, it makes sense that you’d want to reach out to your mate for comfort, seeking love. I don’t see any problem in it. However, something must have changed or you wouldn’t be here.”
Wes nodded and pursed his lips so hard they turned white. He let go of my hand, stood up, and paced behind the couch, looking out the window every so often. “I could have hurt her. I wrapped a hand around her neck.” He said the words as if they were covered in vomit. Disgusting and vile. “Then I tried to get between her thighs. They did that! They did that to Gina!” He grabbed the hair at his temples and shook his head much harder than any sane person would. “And I tried to do it to Mia. God! What is wrong with me?” he cried out.
The doctor was up and to him before I could even grasp all that he’d said. She murmured something to him and brought him back to sit down. “Weston, sometimes when we are locked in a terror, our minds recreate extraordinary events to rewrite it in a way. This experience might have been a way for your mind to deal with what you saw. Mia, do you believe Weston was trying to harm you?”
I shook my head emphatically. “No. Absolutely not. The second I hollered his name, it was like the flicking of a switch, but I fear that last night was a major setback, and we’re hoping you can help him work through some of these issues,” I added, while scooting closer to Weston. He looked miserable, practically cowering in his corner on the other side of the couch. The moment I got to him, he looped an arm around my shoulders and buried his face into my neck.
“God, I’m so lucky to have you. Mia, baby…”
I petted his cheek and locked eyes with Dr. Shofner. “I know. We’ll get through this. Together.”
* * *
The last week of October Wes was going to Dr. Shofner three times a week. His choice. She told him he’d need extensive therapy to start on the path toward healing. My guy was all in. The other addition to our routine was the little white sleeping pills he now took before bed each night. Apparently, Wes demanded the doctor give him something that would knock him out.
As much as I would miss our middle of the night wild sex, I wouldn’t miss the reason behind it. Also, it gave the extra added benefit of getting a full, uninterrupted six to seven hours sleep. After a single week of a good night’s rest and a man not worried about attacking me in my sleep, it was like the two of us were entirely new people. The world was our oyster, and we were going to live it. Finally.
Wes and I got up pretty early in the morning, made love, an extra bonus, and then we surfed. I’d head off to work or to the converted spare room that was now my personal office, and Wes would head to the gym, stay on the beach, or sometimes putter around in his den. There was still no talk of the movie that had been almost complete or whether he’d be writing anything in the near future. It wasn’t as though he needed the money. His home and vehicles were paid off, and he had investments up the wazoo. According to Wes, neither of us needed to worry about money for the rest of our lives and we’d still live comfortably. That wasn’t enough for me. It wasn’t the money I was worried about. It was Wes and his drive, ambition, life’s work. Eventually, he and the doc would need to work on this topic, but right now, healing from the trauma was paramount.
Another unfortunate side effect to Wes being home and going through post-traumatic stress therapy was the many days I’d come home to him and Gina on the couch or patio deck laughing. Judi would carry a scowl the moment I’d enter as if I were allowing him to ruin us. What she didn’t understand was that nothing was going to get between Wes and me. It was too late. We were now each other’s true north. Did I like seeing Gina DeLuca, the woman he’d spent a few months causally fucking? No, I did not. Did the doctor tell me repeatedly it was part of his healing as much as hers? Yes, yes she did. So unfortunately, I grinned and bore it. I could suffer through anything as long as Wes was on the path to finding his happiness.
Now that it was the end of the month, I had something amazing to look forward to. Yes, I’d be starring on the Dr. Hoffman show twice a week as well as the Friday fifteen-minute segment, but also, today, Ginelle was set to arrive. I could hardly frickin’ wait! Having my best friend a total of fifty feet down the stone path to the guest house was going to settle me in a way I’d never thought possible.