"Hey Nancy, is Shayla busy with anyone at the moment?"

"No, her last patient had just left."

I pointed at Shayla's door. "Is it all right if I just head on in, then?"

Since Shayla hired her a few years ago, this woman has expressed interest in me. Every time I enter this place, her face lights up, and her eyes twinkle. Her smile also always shows she wants me, as it's displayed on her lips right now. The funny thing is, she's like twenty years older than me. And she's married.

"Yeah. You can scare your sister like you always do," she snickered. "Don't tell her I said that—she'd fire me."

I flashed her a grin. Nancy knows just how much I love teasing and frightening my sister. "She wouldn't fire you. If she had the option, in a heartbeat, she'd fire me as having me as her older brother." I laughed. "I won't be long," I assured. "I have somewhere else I need to be in a little while."

A devilish grin was plastered on my face as I headed to Shayla's room. Without knocking, I shouted as I shoved the door open, "There's a massive fire in the building! You need to hurry that fucking ass off that chair and away from your desk. Come on! You need to get out of here! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"

I laughed hard when Shayla's head flung up quickly, and she jumped high into the air from her chair. Then, I laughed even harder when I got the angry look I knew would follow once she saw it was me.

"You're an asshole," she hissed, her hand pressed against her chest, directly over her heart.

I headed to the chair before her desk, proudly grinning for getting her once again. "How am I an asshole? Don't you think the fire alarms would've sounded off? And wouldn't the sprinkler system have been activated if there were have been a fire?"

She had a blazing fire in her eye that showed she wanted to kill me, and my smile widened even further at that. "It doesn't matter dickhead. You still scared the living bejesus out of me—again..." She leaned in her chair and crossed her arms against her chest with a scowled look. "What are you doing here anyway? I didn't see any crazy, ridiculous names or your name on the schedule today."

"Sloane."

She leaned forward, her hands folding on her desk, sighing. "You know the rules. I can't discuss anything she's told me about with you."

I nodded, acknowledging her comment. "I know."

"Then why are you here about her? Is she not doing well?"

I smiled. "No, Sloane's fine. I came here to thank you for what you're doing with her. Because whatever it is you're doing is working. She's a different person since she started seeing you a week ago. Am I jealous?" I nodded, answering my own question. "Yes." I held up my fingers, slightly pinching them. "A little. Because I thought I was doing everything right with her. Like I told you before. She'd do well, and then she'd fall right back into that fucking rabbit hole."

Shayla grinned. "You were probably pushing her, demanding she listen to you."

Was I?

I didn't think I was.

I was only trying to get her to see what I saw: a gorgeous woman.

"I wasn't."

"You were," she strongly suggested. "I also changed her antidepressants." I knew it. "That's as far as I'm telling you. That one you can know about. I didn't like the ones they had her on."

"I had a feeling you did, but I didn't want to ask and offend her."

I noticed the way Shayla was studying me, and I wondered why she was. My brows joined together when I said, "What?"

"How are you doing?"

I shrugged like there was no reason for her to ask. "Great, why?"

"You look worn out, bothered by something, or like something else is weighing on your mind. Are you sure you're okay?"

I raised my leg, resting my ankle on my thigh. "As far as I know, I am. I'm not out fucking any women out and about looking for a good time. I've got Sloane back in my life, and she's finally my girlfriend. What could possibly be wrong with me?"

She hummed as her gaze pierced into my eyes, searching for whatever she was looking for, wondering what I was hiding from her. But I wasn't hiding anything.

At least, not that I know of.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Her staring game continued, assuming I'd fold if she stared long enough.

"You want to know what I'm doing differently with Sloane that you didn't think of. That's what it is. That's why you're here. You thought if you played the, I want to thank you for what you're doing with her card, I'd give in to your curiosity."

Am I that readable?

I sighed at the thought that everyone knows how to read me when they want to.

"Fine. I'm curious how I can continue helping Slonae return to who she was when we first became friends."

"I'll give you advice. But I won't tell you what we've talked about. That's something Sloane needs to tell you if she wants you to know."

I held up my finger with a questionable look. "Can I ask if Sloane's told you more than she told me?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm not falling for that trick—"

I knew she wouldn't fall for it, so I cut her off, "I only asked since we promised each other not to hide anything from one another. That we go back to when we talked about everything without judging the other about whatever was on our minds."

"My advice to you is, ask her. Refrain from pushing to know whatever you're curious to know about. Just ask—politely. Don't threaten her with anything if you don't get the answer you're expecting to hear. And if you really want to help her, set goals for yourself. For where you want to see her in so many days, stuff like that. Set goals for your hopes and dreams with her."

I listened to everything Shayla said, but a suggestion in her remark hit me the most, and it's not sitting well with me.

I lowered my foot from my thigh and sat tall as I asked, "Did she tell you I've threatened her?"

She smirked. "No. She never said you threatened her. I just know how you are. Why? Have you?"

Other than discipline in a fun, sexual way, "No," I told her because I haven't. And that's all she needs to know since she refuses to listen to me about my sex life. "I can't believe you asked me that. I'd never harm her. Ever."

"Good." She flicked the hair hanging over her shoulder behind her, then squared her shoulders. "Is there anything else? Because my last appointment for the day should be here any minute."

"No. I just came to thank you for what you're doing with Sloane and to ask if there was anything to know since she and I are going to one of those support meeting thing-a-ma-bobs here shortly. And I didn't want to hear any surprises from her tonight. Well, I was hoping not to, anyway."

She smiled at hearing that.

I figured she would.

"I love that you're going. It's about damn time." She aimed her finger at me. "You better talk to the group, too. Opening up to them would help you understand what's been going on with you all these years. Let everyone there know what bothered you growing up and what you've done since high school. And why."

"What are you talking about?" I groaned.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she hissed. "I know what you've been keeping locked in that stubborn mind, and so does Mariah."

Pfft.

I raised my arm and swung it downward, groaning, "You and Mariah don't know shit. You both think you do, but you don't."

She arched a brow.

"Did you forget what I do for a living?" She waved her arms around. "Look where you're at. Look who you're talking to. I was trained to read people. And you, I've been reading since I was like five years old."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever. You're such a stubborn asshole. Anyway. Just do as I asked, open your hard-headed mind, and spill your heart out. That's what these meetings are for. To talk about everything. Since I won't be there or Mariah, you can admit to them the stuff you've tried hiding from us."

"Yep. Okay. Whatever you say, sissy. Anyway, I'm going there for Sloane. Not me."

Brushing my comment off, she added to her lecture, "As I was trying to say, tell them everything. Tell them why you acted out. Don't worry. It won't embarrass or hurt Sloane. She'll be okay. She knows what you've done and why. But they don't. She also doesn't know the stuff you kept from her either. Which, I'm almost positive you've never mentioned your upbringing to her—ever. I also know it's much easier to get things off your chest to people you don't know than to open up to the ones who know you the most. And having Sloane hear about your issues and how you truly felt about what she did to you and your heart will help her want to be better and heal, too. Even though you've already discussed it with her, certain feelings seem to emerge more when you tell the story to the ones who know nothing about you."

***

Sloane and I sat in the back row of the crowded room. I'm still determining what to expect out of this, but if everyone in this room talks, we'll be here for a week.

As I sit here, I feel ashamed of myself for feeling that there are other places I'd rather be and that Sloane and I could do this together, alone, in her home or mine.

However, I get it. I understand this is something Sloane needs to do, especially since she'll be around others who feel how she does.

Shayla explained how coming to this support group will help Sloane become more comfortable being around others and that it'll help her mind and encourage her to want to talk and socialize with others who are going through or who have been through what she is going through.

Shayla also helped me understand that these support groups are a safe environment for Sloane to be around. They're accepting, a place to vent frustrations without anyone looking at you differently, and you'll receive the comfort you need, even though I feel I'm giving that to her already, but I get it. Sloane needs to see she isn't alone and they can get through these tough times together, giving her even more encouragement to want to heal.

My eyes wandered the room, wanting to get a feel of everyone attending this meeting. And my heart can't help but break for them. It knows they're all suffering from something, just like Sloane.

I watched their mannerisms, their smiles, some forced, some genuine. I observed how some socialized with others and how some chose to sit by themselves, continuing to keep their guard up—like Sloane's doing right now.

Don't push her... once she's comfortable in her surroundings, she'll take down the wall and open up. Just give it time. Shayla said, and it felt as if she were sitting beside me, in my ear, reminding me to continue being supportive.

Seeing the nervous look on Sloane's face, I snuggled my arm around her and pulled her against me, hoping it would help relax her more. She lowered her head on my shoulder and whispered, "Thank you."

I didn't know if she was thanking me for being here with her or if it was for how I was holding her, giving her the comfort she needed.

Instead of asking why she thanked me, I said, "You're welcome."

Her hand came around my waist, and she held me tighter when the director went to the podium to speak, asking everyone to sit.

After his speech, he asked everyone to take turns introducing themselves and for us to explain why we were there, starting with the front row.

It was like a wave when each person stood, saying their names and reasoning for attending the meeting. Finally, it was Sloane's turn, and all eyes were on her when she hesitated to stand.

I squeezed her hand, encouraging her she was okay while letting her know I wouldn't let her fall.

Finally, she stood. But she was shaking, looking away from everyone's eyes as she said her name and how she's been battling depression since she was fifteen. Even though I knew that about her, it still broke my heart to hear her repeat it, knowing I was the reason behind it.

Then, it was my turn.

I stood, looked down at Sloane, then at everyone eyeing me, the looks of wonder on their faces why a guy like me, dressed in a suit and tie, looking like I was some important asshole, was in this room.

I didn't want to out Sloane since she hadn't told her story, so I told the group, "Hello everyone, I'm Aaron Rhodes, and I'm here supporting Sloane, my best friend... and..." My eyes returned to Sloane as I said, "My girlfriend." Then, because I felt my sister's presence and what she asked that I do, I looked away from her and at the group, admitting, "However, I may be here for my girl, but I, too, have been battling some demons myself for the last twenty years."

The wave continued when I finished my intro and sat.

Once everyone said their reasons for attending the meeting, the speaker spoke more and divided us into groups.

My eyes wandered through our group's circle as we waited for the socialization to start, and every one of those eyes was focused on me. And I'm sure it was because I was in a suit and tie, most likely looking normal to them, wondering what demons I could've been battling. As I sat, waiting for someone to speak, I thought about those monsters inside me, causing me to handle the situations I was in as I had.

As I thought about why I felt like sleeping with every fucking woman who was out looking for a good time as I was, it made me think that was okay to do. It had me thinking that it was someone's granddaughter, daughter, sister, cousin, aunt, friend, you name it, I used for my gain. And it had me feeling regretful.

At the time, I thought it was right, but now, as I sit here, listening to the people in our group speak, telling their stories, I can't help but kick myself for being the piece of shit I was. It also made me realize my demons started long before Sloane ever hurt me. She never caused my pain. The situation she put me in only added to my ongoing misery.

Now, I see why Shayla wanted me to be here with Sloane and why she wanted me to come not only for moral support for my girl but to get me to see my nightmares were caused by four other people before her. She's known. This entire time, she's known what's been going on with me, and I wonder if this is why she became the person she is today—a psychologist.

She wanted to help me, but I kept her from doing so.

She's only been waiting for me to see finally. She knows me better than I think she does.

It took Sloane to return to my life, showing me her issues to get where I am right now—with her. Now I understand what my sister is doing for us and me. She feels and wants Sloane and I to help heal each other with her guidance.

"Dude with the suit," I heard someone say, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked around the group, wondering who tried grabbing my attention. Then I saw a young kid with long, dark, messy hair, wearing black eyeliner, with pierced lips, dressed in all-black—emo style. He looked maybe thirteen or fourteen, and curiosity was written all over his face as he eyed me. Then he jutted his chin at me, saying, "You said you have demons of your own. What did you mean by that?"

My lips parted to respond, but Sloane beat me to it, shocking me when she said, "His anguish was caused because of me."

"You?" the young kid asked, surprised. "Aren't you like his girlfriend?" He looked at me. "I thought you said you've been battling them for twenty years."

I nodded, then looked at Sloane. Not sure what to tell them since I didn't want to expose and hurt her. But she doesn't know that I just realized she wasn't the one who started my affliction. "She is, and I have, but it's been longer than I thought," I said. Sloane's eyes grew wide at my admission.

"What?" she quietly asked, her brows knitted in confusion. "I thought it was because of me?"

Mostly yes, partially no.

But before I could answer Sloane, the kid said, "So you've been together that long, and you're not married?" I saw the look on his face like he wanted to call me a loser because of it. And before he did, Sloane shocked me when she opened up to the group.

"I'm a bit surprised. This is the first I've heard of Aaron admitting to this," she quietly said, then admitted to the group that we were best friends, what she had done to me, and how hurt she's been over the years because of it. Then, to answer the kid's question, she explained that we recently reconciled and jumped from friendship to lovers soon after.

"Okay. Gotcha," the kid said. He then looked at me, still having a look of wonder in his eye. "So. If she wasn't the cause of the beginning of your headache, like you said. What was it?"

"My parents and my younger sisters," I admitted, surprising Sloane.

Sloane leaned to my ear, whispering, "What are you doing? Why are you lying to them? This is because of me, and you know it."

I squeezed her hand as I turned and looked into her eyes, quietly answering her question, "I just realized this. This is what my sister wanted me to see. What she's been trying to tell me for years, and I kept pushing her away. Not wanting to listen to her."

"What did they do?" Another guy in the group asked, causing me to break my gaze from Sloane's inquisitive, surprised face to the group's curious eyes.

I sighed as I thought about how I felt it all started. And then did what Shayla wanted me to do. I opened up and spilled it all out to them about what I didn't allow myself to see. Because, at the time, I felt it was expected, that it was how things were supposed to be. But now I realize it wasn't how things should've been. I was a kid, doing adult things for my sisters, especially with Mariah. She was way younger than Shayla and me.

Another heavy sigh left my lips, knowing if I didn't open up to everyone in our group and have Sloane as my witness to doing so, my sister would find me, drag me back here, and cause a scene until I come clean about what I've kept hidden and buried deep within me.

She would too.

She's stubborn and bossy.

"I was forced to care for my younger sisters while my parents worked second and third shifts. My father was a sheriff, and my mother was a 911 operator. Both worked longer hours than their scheduled shifts depending on the situations they dealt with—a lot. My mother returned to work when my youngest sister turned four. I was twelve. Every day, I took care of my sisters. I cooked and cleaned, helped my other sister with her schoolwork, played girly stuff, read to them, and watched them instead of doing things twelve-year-old kids did with their friends after school or on weekends. For three years, I did that until my parents were killed on their vacation, and my ailing grandmother took over caring for us. I always thought it was normal to do what I was, but now that I sit here, thinking back about things while listening to you all open up to all of your problems, I realize this is what my sister had been trying to tell me and make me see for years. It wasn't just my girl here who caused my stress and acting out. She only added to it."

"Aaron," Sloane whispered. "You never told me that bothered you. You always said you enjoyed taking care of them."

"I did enjoy it." I did. They're my sisters; I was all they had while my parents worked.

I felt like I was helping my parents out by saving them money. Otherwise, they would've hired someone to care for us. But I also missed out on hanging out with my friends.

My parents also missed most of my football games, which always stung. At least my sisters were there on the sidelines watching and cheering.

I wrapped my arm around Sloane, held her against me, and kissed the top of her head. "We'll talk about it later," I whispered. "I just needed to get that off my chest before my sister heard I hadn't."

Now, I understand why Shayla pushed me to come with Sloane. I planned on coming with her, anyway. But now I know why she insisted I sit in the room and listen to everyone's stories. She wanted me to see and realize I had a story, too. One I tried to hide, bury away, and forget.

Shayla apparently saw it and tried talking to me about it throughout the years, but I was too stubborn and proud to admit I was bothered about losing my childhood before Sloane ruined the rest of it.

"I think that's why Shayla never held a grudge toward you. She's just as observant as I am. She knew I had issues I was keeping from everyone long before you. Then, when it all went down with you, and my parents passed away a couple of days later, everything I stored inside me came out at once, and I made all of my problems about you. And instead of addressing the issues, I acted on them—for twenty damn years."

Sloane soaked in what I admitted, and on her own, when the same kid asked what happened to her face, she told her entire story... and I mean everything... even things she never told me, which shocked the fuck out of me.

Now, I know why Shayla told me to ask if I wanted to know if Sloane had told her more than what she confided to me about. Because there was no way she'd tell me what Sloane had just admitted to our support group.

She also opened up to the group about why she felt the real reason her kids were taken away from her and why she was the only survivor of that fatal crash that killed four people.

And I'm shocked to hear she's felt that way. Because there's no damn way that's the reason. She and her family just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!

Hey readers, I want to apologize for not doing my daily updates these last few days. I've been in the hospital with my husband, and I've posted all my prewritten chapters while being here.

I'm trying to do as much writing while I'm here. But it's hard to think. So, if I have written something that doesn't make sense or needs more clarification. Please let me know, and I'll fix right away.

I'm sorry!