I keep quiet after our session with Michelle. I don’t want to push Eric because I can tell he already has a lot on his mind, that he stirred up plenty within the past fifty minutes. It wasn’t only about the serious shit he got into at the end of it, but about all that stuff we’ve had going on with Ty.

I offered to drive Eric’s Audi, but he insisted. Maybe it’ll at least distract him. I worry whenever I offer to help him, he feels like it’s because I think he’s weak, which isn’t true. I want to help him, and I want him to know I’m here if and when he needs me.

He drives us to a restaurant we agreed to have lunch at after the session, a pizza joint not far from his place. We’re still quiet as we order our drinks and food.

He fidgets with his hands, knotting his fingers up and pushing at his knuckles.

“You okay?” I finally ask.

Even that seems like it could be too much, considering how he’s behaving.

“I’m fine,” he spits out in a way that assures me he’s anything but fine. He must sense that his response is a little harsh because he shakes out of whatever state he’s in and says, “Sorry about that. I’m thinking about a lot of things.”

“That makes sense. It gave you a lot to think about. Both of us, I guess. There are some things she was telling you about Ty that got me thinking. Not that I want to make it about me… Shit.”

Foot-in-mouth syndrome much?

Eric snickers. Although, he doesn’t seem amused so much as appreciative of some morbid aspect of all this.

“Did you think this is how you’d be spending your trip in San Diego?” he asks.

“Whatever. This is one aspect of it, which, by the way, is why I wanted to come here to begin with. And we have other shit we’re doing this weekend. I’m excited about meeting your friends tomorrow night.”

“There you are with your subject changes,” Eric notes, smirking, though there’s still sadness in his expression.

“The great thing about a subject change is that it gives you an out.” I’m teasing him about a conversation we had when we first met, but it’s really why I mentioned his friends…in case he wanted to avoid altogether talking about what we discussed with Michelle.

“I’m sorry, Eric. I’m trying to be helpful. I don’t ever seem to know what the right thing to do is.”

“You’re doing the right thing, Jesse, by being here with me. There’s a lot going on in my brain right now, and I need to process it some more. I’m glad she offered to look up someone in Atlanta, and then the Skype thing will help there too. I want to spend more time with you guys. Try to mend my relationship with Ty and also keep pursuing what we have.”

His words remind me that even though I may be dumb as fuck about how to handle some of this shit, at the very least, he gets that we’re in this together.

“I always find this part of therapy such bullshit,” Eric continues. “Worksheets, exercises. Calling it homework like I’m in fucking school. I’m not saying I’ve never benefited from any of it, but that doesn’t change life. Doesn’t change the things that have happened or that I’ve done to hurt other people. I’m going to try, but I don’t know… It’s all so stupid. Then we have this fucked-up mental-healthcare system where I’ll see Michelle every week, and she’ll give me a number to some other therapist I might be able to make an appointment with…a month, maybe two months from now, if I’m lucky. And then it’ll still be weekly or even biweekly sessions. So when does that actually add up to anything that’s worth a damn? Two, three, four years from now?”

“Eric…”

He runs his hand through his scruff, then wipes it across his face as though he’s fucking tired. I don’t think he’s tired from today so much as depleted from the things that have happened to him in his past.

“It’s okay, Jesse. As I said, I’m going to do this. I feel a little frustrated with how shit like this works. I finally can voice what happened to me to a professional, and what did she really do?”

“She listened,” I say, defending Michelle. “And she offered some practical solutions.”

“Yeah, I know. In my mind, I should be able to go to a therapist, say what’s wrong with me, and they give me some magical fix like a Xanax. Instead, I get this bullshit, and at the end of the day, no matter how many thinking-error exercises I do, I’m still fucked-up me.”

“Well, fucked-up you isn’t so bad,” I say. “He is who I fell for, after all.”

“Your mistake,” Eric teases, and I laugh.

His gaze shifts to me, and for the first time since the session I see warmth in his expression.

“Say it again.”

“What, that I’m falling for this fucked-up version of you?”

“Yeah, that’s the part.”

He reaches across the table, holding his hand out, and I take it. He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand.

“I’m falling pretty goddamn fast too,” he says. “For this crazy kid who has a thing for guys with serious issues and baggage.”

“Nah, just this guy with issues and baggage,” I tease.

He grips my hand tighter. “What do you say when we finish eating, we head back to my place, change, and go to the beach for a bit? I’m not gonna let you miss the beach while we’re out here, away from landlocked Atlanta. And really, any excuse to get you to take off your clothes is fine by me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The waiter arrives with our pizza, and when we finish eating, we head back to the condo. We don’t mess around. In fact, Eric keeps a little distance from me, not nearly as affectionate as he can be. It’s rough because I enjoy feeling his arms around me, love when he makes like he can’t keep his fucking hands off me. But I get it. Like other times when we’ve stirred that memory, we don’t fall back into each other’s arms and start fucking the hell out of each other. He needs to relax, come back into his own again.

And despite the fact that it can be a struggle, I can be patient. I don’t mind waiting, especially when I know how incredible it is when he is comfortable with me…and how hot the sex can be.

When we arrive at the beach, we spread our beach towels across the sand.

Eric tosses off his shirt before he digs into his bag and retrieves the sunblock. Looking sexy in his shades and navy trunks with a white stripe along the side, he opens the bottle before saying, “Okay. You know the drill.”

It reminds me of when he was so concerned about my face in PV, and when he rubbed me up and down with sunscreen when we had our camping outing the other week.

I remove my shirt so that I’m only in my swimming trunks.

I wonder if he’s ready for this. If he’s going to just rub me down in this sort of cold, unfeeling way because of everything that’s happened.

He steps behind me and starts rubbing the sunscreen across my back in circles, moving slowly…like he’s being careful to make sure not to miss any spots. He tends to my shoulders and arms, and I feel him move close to me as he slides his arms around my sides, to my abdomen, moving his hands about freely. I can tell he’s not trying to apply sunscreen anymore as he pushes up close to me, his hard erection against my ass.

His face slides beside my own, and I feel his nose against the side of my face.

“Thank you, Jesse. For coming here and doing this with me. I know I’m not good at showing it right now, but I really appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

I half turn, so that I’m looking at his shades, which doesn’t work for me. I grab them and slide them up his face, resting them against his bangs so I can see those sparkling blue eyes. I have an ocean I could be looking at, but I want to get lost in those eyes. No matter how many times I see them, it’s never enough.

“You’re better at showing it than you think.”

He tugs me closer to him, so that my back is flush with his chest, and he kisses me.

The beach isn’t empty, far from it, but he doesn’t seem to care about making a scene. I don’t either, not when I’m with him. I feel that familiar passion as I taste his mouth, but there’s also something so intimate about it. Like I can feel his appreciation in that kiss.

As I get lost in it the way I tend to get lost in those blue eyes of his, I find myself moaning. He growls softly before kissing the side of my face—a much softer, more meaningful kiss. It makes me feel special.

He pulls back and glances around before he notes, “Looks like we have some fans.”

I scan the beach and discover a few people watching us from their towels, including a couple of guys, who are all-smiles and whispering to each other.

I laugh.

“Too bad they miss all the best parts,” he says with a smile, and even though I know he’s still rattled from the day, he’s coming back into his own…coming back to me.