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Stop fighting for me, you fool!
“Every time he tries to seep into your thoughts, I’ll be there fighting him,” Julian vows as he pounds a fist to his chest.Total caveman when you push.
“Let me tell you something, Pumpkin.” He leans forward, elbows resting on his wide-spread thighs.“I’m a soldier. I don’t give up.” He grins. Those dark circles under his eyes? Poof, they are gone as blood rushes to his face, making him look alive again.
“Buckle up because I’m going to be on this ride with you. Through thick and thin.” He warns.
He lunges forward, cups my face again, and crushes his lips against mine.
I don’t move or kiss him back.
I want to so, so badly. But that would give him hope. Sometimes, it's best just to let a ship sink.
Chapter 52
Poppy
I was shoved into another sterile room that smelled like lavender and hope—two things I found equally repulsive at the moment. Lavender was absolutely not going to be my new go-to scent.
The couch is uncomfortably soft, making me miss my own less accommodating chair that didn't try to lull me into a false sense of security.
Dr. Peterson, with her ever-patient smile and clipboard, that I imagined, was filled with questions designed to pick me apart, waits for me to get comfortable.
Comfortable, ha! As if that was on the day's agenda.
"How are you feeling today, Poppy?" she starts her voice a soft, treacherous promise of empathy. "Remember, this is a safe space," she added, a cliché that made me want to roll my eyes.
Safe space? I snort inwardly. "Peachy," I reply, plastering a fake smile on my face. Hmm, maybe I should try peach-flavored items? "Why does everyone keep asking me that? If I were feeling good, I wouldn’t be here, would I? Look, doc, I’m talking," I gesture my hand in the talking signal. I force myself to smile wider, "I’m grinning." It's fake as fuck.
Her lips twitch as if she's pleased. Was my anger a good sign?
Shit! It was. I remember after Mom and Dad died, the school therapist brought me into her office and explained the stages of grief. Anger was one of them.
I don’t know how it feels to move on when Andrew is still here with me.
Dr. Peterson is silent for a moment, considering her approach, I assume.
"I’ll be honest," she begins.
Good for you, Dr. Peterson.
"I’ve been told what happened to you, but I would rather hear it from you. Can you tell me what you’re comfortable sharing about your experiences? Whatever you’re ready to talk about."
"My experiences," I raise a brow. "Well, I got a bikini wax once. Harper talked me into it. The problem was the girl I had had never done it before. She left the wax on for too long, so when she ripped it off, it took some skin," I fake laugh. "Harper had to take me to an urgent care. There was only a male doctor, and yeah, I had to show him the aftermath of war," I point to my nether regions. "So yeah, that was an experience. Was that a good one, Dr. Peterson?"
I'm...a terrible bitch. Victim of my circumstances. Being bitchy is easier than crying, though.
"You can fight, yell at me, push me away, curl into yourself, and see who is willing to remain by your side. I’ve met Henry and Harper; I know Julian. They are all so stubborn. They are not going to let Andrew win, Poppy." She pushes her glasses up again.
Get them adjusted, or actually get contacts.
"So why are you letting Andrew win?"
Now who's the bitch.Going for the cheap shot, are we, doc?
She chuckles, "I’m sure you’ve got quite an imagination you're using right now. I know you’re angry with me because I’m pushing you."
"So stop!" I hiss. "Better yet, I'll stop." then I stand and leave.
