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Reggie dodges my blind punch. “One of these nights, you’re going to clip me.”
“Shit,” I mumble, rubbing the blurriness from my eyes.
“Same nightmare?”
“Same one.”
“Write it down,” he says as he stands. “Shrinks love to analyze dreams.”
I flop back onto the bed, heart slowing to a canter. “I’m sorry for waking you again.”
“Wouldn’t wake me if you had your own apartment.”
“We’ve been over this, Reg. I’m not ready for that yet.”
“You won’t be if you keep telling yourself that.”
I thrust my hand through my damp hair. “What if I’m tempted and you’re not there?”
“Then you call me. You think every sponsor lives with his sponsee?”
“I just don’t think I’m ready. I need some more time.”
“I think you’re scared. You’re in your head too much. You’re not letting yourself recover because you’re stuck in the past. That’s what these dreams are all about.”
“Maybe I don’t need to keep going to therapy. Got my own personal shrink right here at home.”
“Don’t put that shit on me.” His tone is harsh, but his eyes dance with amusement. “I wear enough hats as it is. Next you’ll be wanting me to wipe your ass.”
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth. “Don’t act like you don’t wanna see my ass, Reg.”
“Why do you think I’ve been having you do all those squats?” He pauses in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame. His smile falters. “I won’t be here forever, TJ. You’ve got to be ready to take care of yourself. Live the second chance at life you’ve been given.”
“I’m living it.”
“Sleeping on an old man’s couch, working, and watching Jeopardy every night ain’t living. There’s more out there for you. Don’t be afraid to reach out and take it. You’ve earned it.”
“You’d miss me too much.”
“Joke all you want, but the truth still remains.” His index finger is pointing straight at me. “Don’t punish yourself for the sins of your father.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Present
Carla
“You ready?”
“Just let me clean the counter.”
“Leave it. Come on. It’s after seven.” TJ takes the cleaning spray from my hand and sets it on the counter.
“Fine, but don’t blame me when everyone contracts the flu virus because I didn’t sanitize the front desk.”
I follow him up the stairs leading to his apartment. I don’t know if I’m nervous about what he’s going to tell me, or because of the things we did the last time I was in his apartment. Let’s go with both.
“What do you feel like having for dinner?” he asks.
