“Devin.” My voice was strangled, how I remembered sounding that night. I fell to my knees and strained my voice to yell for him. “Devin!”
I heard his feet running down the hallway into the bathroom. “Christy!” He was on the floor with me before I could even look up at him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
It was a fair question. The last time he had found me in this bathroom, I had been bleeding to death, literally.
The moment I saw his face, the black hole sucking me inside stopped and the darkness cleared. I threw my arms around him and held on firmly as his strong hold tightened around me.
“What happened, CJ?” he murmured.
I shook my head, unable to even explain it to myself.
“You weren’t…”
I shook my head again. No, I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. Nothing could ever make me contemplate it again. I had been in a dark place then.
Devin’s hand rubbed my back, and I shivered as tingles ran up my spine. I turned my head to face him and couldn’t help but smell the cologne he was wearing, which by the way smelled wonderful, intoxicating. Mmm.
Okay, getting a grip on myself.
“Did Emily do something? Did she say something to upset you?” he asked.
I rather reluctantly pulled away. I still didn’t understand what was wrong with me. How could I have wanted—still want—Devin to hold me like he was doing? It was ridiculous.
By this time, Devin’s hands were touching my cheeks, trying to pinpoint exactly what was wrong with me.
“It wasn’t Em. She just left probably ten minutes ago.”
“Five actually, I’ve been waiting several houses down in my car.” Devin gave me a quick smile, but I could tell he was still worried. “What happened, CJ?”
“I’m fine, I just had a little panic attack.” At least that’s what I thought it was. I can’t really explain what it was. “Emily left and I was looking around the house. It was so empty and well, it was like I was back there. I was alone again, and the darkness was encompassing me. I couldn’t get out,” I whispered.
His arms went around me again. “You’ll never be alone, CJ. You have Mitch, Megan and Emily. You have me.”
“Thank you, Dev. You’re always saving me.”
“Should we call Dr. Stone?” he asked with worry still in his voice.
I smiled weakly. “No. I’m fine, really. Don’t call him over nothing. Come on, we can put your stuff in the guest room upstairs.”
“Chris, this wasn’t ‘nothing.’ I really think we should call him.”
“Devin, I’m fine. Don’t even dream of calling Dr. Stone.” His suitcase was resting by the door and I picked it up and pulled it toward the stairs.
“I’ll get it,” Devin said, pulling the suitcase out of my hand.
“I’m not incapable of carrying your suitcase,” I said, walking up the stairs in front of him.
“I know you’re not, but a gentleman always helps a lady.”
“But I was helping you, you dolt.”
“Whatever, it still applies to this situation,” he said as we walked down the hallway toward the guest room. He put his things down and turned to look at me. “Are you sure you’re all right? I really think we should call Doctor Stone.”
“No. We don’t need to call him. If anything, I’ll talk to him next week. I’m fine. Let’s just drop it, okay? Forget about it. I’m not some fragile glass figurine that will break if you say or do the wrong thing. I don’t need Doctor Stone to glue me back together. I’m not broken.” But what if I am broken? What if I truly have been shattered into a million pieces and I really do need help piecing myself back together?
Note to Self: Ask Doctor Stone about this.
“Fine, you win. I’ll forget about it,” Devin said, setting his suitcase down.
“Hey, Dev?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Sure, shoot.”
“Dr. Stone wants me to ask Mitchell or you about something. But I don’t think I could ask Mitch. You know what happened. You know everything that’s happened. But if you laugh, I will never forgive you.”
“CJ, I won’t laugh. You can ask me anything and you know you will always get an honest answer.” He sat down on the bed and motioned for me to join him.
“Well, we were talking in session today about my parents, and Dr. Stone said something that bothered me. I don’t think you can know something about a person who’s not here anymore. What I’m trying to say is, Dr. Stone said my parents would be proud of me. Of what I’ve become, how we all turned out. But how can he say it, when he couldn’t possibly know?”