Chapter 17

Sebastian was irritated. Which, while not necessarily a new feeling for him, was more pervasive than normal. He felt positively shitty about what he’d said at the meeting the other day. It wasn’t new for him to get cranky when the weather got colder, which caused his hip and leg pain to grow more intense. But that didn’t excuse the way he’d gone after Naomi. And the fact that he hadn’t corrected her when she’d accused him of being duplicitous only worsened his mood.

He hadn’t liked that the one time he’d gone out of his way for someone had been thrown back in his face as disingenuous. But that was his issue, not hers. Maybe if he did more nice things, he wouldn’t feel so insulted when someone questioned his motives. He should’ve tried to set things straight with her, but what the hell was he supposed to say? That he didn’t like it when she was mad at him? She’d spent the last three years mad at him, and it had never bothered him before. What was different now?

Maybe the fact that you were going for the jugular this time.

Sebastian had always been about promoting distance between himself and other people—especially between him and Naomi. But this wasn’t about distance. It was about completely severing any bond between them.

When she’d kissed him, she’d opened a floodgate of feelings Sebastian had locked away long ago. Seeing her at yoga, all toned in tight clothing, hadn’t helped. And now he needed all those feelings back where they fucking belonged: dead and buried with the only other person he’d ever felt them for.

God, thinking about all of this sucked. Where the hell was his doctor? He’d been waiting for an inordinate amount of time, and it was only making him more irate.

Finally the man opened the door and shut it behind him while looking down at his laptop. “Afternoon, Sebastian. Sorry for the wait.”

Sebastian grunted an “It’s fine.”

Something the doctor noticed, because he looked up from the laptop and appraised Sebastian. “I’m guessing on the pain scale, we’re at a ten today?”

“Eight,” Sebastian replied.

Dr. Thorpe set his computer down and washed his hands. “Did you give the yoga a try?”

“Yes.”

“How’d it go?”

“Seemed to relieve some of the pain for a day or two.”

“How many times have you gone?”

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. “I haven’t been back since my first class a week ago.”

Dr. Thorpe looked at him for a moment. “May I ask why?”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to answer?”

Not honestly. “Wasn’t really my thing.”

Nodding, Dr. Thorpe typed something into his laptop. “So being in pain is your thing? I wish you’d told me sooner. We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of time.”

“I’m not really in the mood for sarcasm today, Doc.”

“And I’m not in the mood for hard-headed patients.” Doctor Thorpe smiled, which took some of the sting out of his words. “There’s no healing a spinal cord injury. You’re never going to be pain free, but we can manage it. Keep it from being debilitating. But if you’re not going to take steps to improve your circumstance, then what are we hoping to accomplish here?”

Sebastian didn’t have an answer for that. Because despite the fact that he did little to assuage the pain, he did still keep coming to Dr. Thorpe. He was a model of contradictory behavior. Part of him wanted to rail against the pain he experienced while the other part of him felt he deserved much worse. Sebastian had no idea how to get those two halves on the same page, so he kept all of his appointments but took little advice from them.

He shifted on the table and pain shot down his spine, through his hip, and throbbed in his leg. Unable to hide his wince, he watched Dr. Thorpe’s face soften.

“Go back to yoga, Sebastian.”

And even though it felt like accepting defeat of some kind, Sebastian found himself replying, “Okay.”