JACE-2(Lane Brothers, Book 3)(20)

As I lie back in the water, his arms supporting me, and let the cool liquid drift around me, I close my eyes and huff out a breath of annoyance.

The dratted man, he went and did it.

I’m in love.





Chapter Twelve




“I am so pleased with the improvement Benjamin has made in only a few short weeks, Miss Munro. He’s almost a completely changed child from the boy who walked into my office that first day.”

I nod my head and beam at Dr Glen, sucking up the praise she’s been heaping on me since I walked through the door twenty minutes ago. As per our talk, she doesn’t share anything too personal with me. She is Ben’s shrink, after all, and respects his privacy, but she’s been keeping us updated about his progress and shares some of the things my brother has given her permission to tell us.

“Yes he has, Doc. His teachers are really pleased with his progress, and there haven’t been any incidents at the new school. I’m just relieved he hasn’t hit anyone so far.”

Her soft brown eyes smile kindly at me before she sits up straighter and gives me the stare I’ve come to know since this all began, the one that says I’m in for another counselling session whether I like to or not.

Which I hadn’t, in the beginning. I’d pointed out that she was Ben’s shrink, not mine, and that I wasn’t into sharing my gross feelings with perfect strangers.

She’d gone all stubborn on me and forged ahead anyway, dragging the shit out of me no matter how hard I tried to deflect. Now I have the gal pal I’d been searching for, and the weirdest part of it is that she’s not so much about giving me advice as she is about making me see what I need to about my emotionally stunted self.

“We need to speak about one of the central issues regarding Benjamin’s behavior toward you.”

Gulp.

“He hates me.”

“No, Ashley dear, he really doesn’t. The fact is, he loves you as the mother he lost, more even, since he’s intelligent enough to recognize the love and sacrifices you’ve made for him. The issue is not you; it’s your continued defense of his father.”

Huh?

“What?”

“Simply put, he feels as if you’re betraying him every time you defend your father and his actions. Telling the boy that Wesley isn’t bad just because he left enforces his belief that you value him more than Ben.”

“But I only say that so that he doesn’t end up hating him. I don’t want him to hate Wesley, or anyone,” I croak.

Shit. Lucian had told me this weeks ago, and instead of listening I’d told him to mind his own business unless he had some fancy Psychology degree I didn’t know about.

Now I’m going to have to apologize and eat freaking crow because it seems the man is once again right.

Drat.

“I know, and under normal circumstances I would laud that sentiment. Hatred should not be encouraged, but in Benjamin’s case it’s having a negative effect.”

“What should I do?”

“Don’t encourage him to badmouth Wesley; just do not rush to his defense when Benjamin says something negative. Right now he needs to feel like you’re in his corner. When he feels secure enough he will open up to you, and then you can explain your feelings to him.”

Seems easy enough, except for the fact that I’m terrified that opening up, letting anybody know my real feelings about the douchebag, will only make them think I’m a loon.

“And as for the other.”

Ah, crap.

“I’m not going there with Lucian. This whole situation is already so strange. We’ve reconnected for all of two seconds, and I’m living with the guy and playing happy family. Risking Ben’s heart in the process. I don’t want him knowing because…”

“You’re afraid it will shatter the happiness you feel now,” she finishes for me, giving me that kind stare.

This chick is worth every penny Lucian is paying her. She’s not only managed to get me out of the bomb shelter that is my psycho head, but she knows my messed up feelings. Maybe better than even I do.

“Damn, I wish you weren’t my shrink. You’re the perfect gal pal,” I mutter, grinning when she winks.

“Well, technically I’m not your shrink, since you’re not paying me. We’re just talking, you and I.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, in that case, how do you feel about drinks Friday night?” I ask, crossing my fingers that the possessive brute will let me out of the house without a hassle.

“First round’s on me, Doc.”

“Call me Mary.”

“Ash.”

And just like that, I am no longer the lone wolf.