The plushie abandoned next to him, Dawson curls his fingers into his palms. “What’s yourproblem?” Who does this man think he is?
Ash holds up his hands but doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest. “I don’t have a problem, Dawson. Well, I have many, but none of them involve you.” He gives him a pointed look. “But you do. That’s why you’re here right? To find out what’s wrong with you.”
The fucker is taunting him, Dawson’s sure of that. What he’s not sure of is whether he can sit through the rest of the fucking session.
“You’re really starting to piss me off,” he grits out, uncaring if he comes across as threatening.
Ash, the fucker, looks awfully pleased, as if Dawson passed a test. “Good.” He fumbles for something behind him, bringing up a small ball. “Need stress relief?” Without waiting for a response, he pitches it to Dawson.
Dawson catches it on reflex, squeezing it. That definitely feels good. “I’ll probably end up flicking it in your face,” he says when he sees Ash’s self-satisfied grin. Does this man actually have a license?
“I’m used to it. Plus, it’s very soft,” Ash admits, grinning. “You keep talking about your husband in the past tense, but you still live together.”
The sudden change in topic has Dawson fumbling for words. “We do, but honestly, it’s like living with a complete stranger.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“In my circumstances?” He only gives it a briefest thought. “Good. Definitely good.” He sighs, shame coursing through his veins. He squeezes the ball until he hears his knuckles crack. “And that’s the problem.”
“How so?”
Fuck. How does he admit this to someone else when he only recently admitted it to himself? He thought he was messed up before when he wished his husband didn’t survive his accident, but this? This is a whole new kind of fucked up.
He looks at Ash, trying to gauge his reaction. He’s a therapist. A fucking weird one, possibly a bit mental himself, but still a therapist. He must’ve seen and heard all kinds of shit, right? If Dawson admits it to anyone, it should logically be him.
“I was determined to go through with it, you know? The divorce,” he starts, having reached for the plushie again, stroking it with his free hand. “I promised my sister and my best friend that once Cal was on his feet, figuratively speaking, I’d drop the bomb. I meant it too.” He did. That wasn’t a lie. “I knew it’d make me feel guilty as hell for springing it on him out of nowhere, but my mind was made up. I knew he’d probably be okay.” He hesitates, wanting to make something clear. “I should mention, he does well for himself. He and his brother own a building company, so it’s not like he’d end up on the streets because he can’t go back to his job. And I knew that Ellis, that’s his brother, would take care of him if needed.” He reminded himself of all those points on repeat, needing to back up and explain his decision.
Ash nods, watching him patiently. “But?”
Dawson strokes the donut again, a smile that’s almost painful forming on his lips. “I’m not sure I can do it anymore. He’s different.Calis different. And before you say anything, I’ve thought about it. I was thinking that maybe I was just falling into some misguided sense of security and safety, because he’s pretty much harmless. But…it’s not that. It’s worse. Much worse.” He lets out a shuddering breath, and some of the last restraints he has on the truth come loose with it. “I like him.”
Silence. Then, “You like him.”
He lets out a watery laugh. “Messed up, huh?”
Ash hums. “Pretty messed up, yeah.” There it is again. That teasing tone. It makes Dawson breathe a little easier. “So, you’ve known this new Cal for a few weeks now?”
“Almost three weeks, I think. It took some time before he came out of the coma, and I visited him during that following week at the hospital. So…yeah, we’ve been living together since he was released.”
“How’s that been?”
“Surreal. Absolutely bizarre. It’s like I was dropped in an alternate universe, or like there are hidden cameras everywhere I go and someone is having a good laugh about all this.” He sees Ash smile and it makes talking about it a little easier. “But it hasn’t been…bad. It’s so fucked up because—because there’s nothing left of the man I knew and—and I kinda like this one. And that scares the hell out of me. I knew how to act around him when he was…”
“An abusive asshole?” Ash supplies helpfully, earning another laugh. He’s good at that, Dawson notes.
“Yeah.”
“And now you don’t?”
That’s not an easy one to answer. Technically, there’s no reason to have to figure out how to act around Cal now. There’s no need to act, because Dawson feels sa— He doesn’t feelunsafewith him. But then there’s this part of him that doesn’t know how to relax, how to not act, how to just let things be instead of being on alert for any little sign, any change in Cal’s mood.
“You know, I made this appointment before Cal came home. I needed someone to help me stop feeling like absolute crap for wanting to walk out on a guy who needed my help. And yeah, obviously, I need help processing some of the shit that happened before.” Easy times. What he wouldn’t give to be back at that dilemma. “Now, I… Fuck, I just don’t know what to do. It’s a shame you’re not allowed to give advice because I could really use one.”
He doesn’t expect an answer but is surprised again.
Ash makes a thoughtful sound, opening his arms. “I can give you advice,” he says like it’s no big deal. “I can tell you to pack your bags and get the hell away from that fucker as fast as you can and never look back because people like that don’t change and losing memories doesn’t change who we truly are deep inside. But it wouldn’t make any difference because you’re not ready to make that choice.”
Clearly taking enjoyment in Dawson’s struck expression, he leans forward. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Dawson.” Funnily, Dawson finds himself leaning forward too. “People don’t come to therapy for advice. You can go on Reddit for that. People come here to stop feeling the way they feel. Because on a subconscious level, you know that if you just had an off-switch for your emotions, you could easily make that choice. Imagine it—you’re not weighed down by guilt, you’re not afraid of the consequences and you don’t care if someone thinks you’re selfish or a bad person, or if you’re hurting anybody else.” He pauses to give Dawson space to imagine it. “Now it’s pretty easy to make a choice, huh?”
