Dr. LeClair had repeatedly assured Hadley he would testify to her mental health and worrying about threats from Mr. Duwatski would only cause her distress. Nonetheless, she would have to decline any additional offers from Mac to dance in abandoned warehouses. Any behavior deemed inappropriate by the court would mean Harold Duwatski would be put back in charge of her affairs and her life. Worse than that, though, it would mean she would have to report to him weekly. Those visits come with a high cost, detrimental to her future well-being. She wouldn’t allow that to happen.
It figured her former guardian would show up and ruin her newfound happiness. For years he’d made a habit of crushing anything Hadley found joy in. She loved dancing out in the open with other people who shared her love of the art as much as she did, but she wouldn’t risk her freedom. She would continue to dance alone and secluded in her little apartment, the only safe place for her, the only way she could maintain control of her life.
H
adley tossed the bag of Chinese food in the refrigerator. Her appetite ran away the second she smelled the big ape, and she didn’t anticipate its reappearance any time soon.
She turned on the evening news and waited patiently on the couch for the segment on Miller. After a brief report on the dismal economy, the perky news anchor said his name. The anchor’s face lit up as she spoke about the newsroom phones ringing off the hook with women requesting the address again to write him. Once the address was displayed, she reported there was nothing new concerning Miller’s detainment and the Thailand government was being extremely hush-hush about the entire incident in hopes of not escalating the already delicate situation with the Militia.
Hadley’s curiosity as to why Miller traveled to Thailand had been getting the best of her. The reported story about his trespassing was obviously an excuse to defend his detention, but didn’t explain the purpose of his trip. As far as Hadley knew, Genetti Industries dealt in military and government contracts in the US. From what little she had read, Miller was a genius that developed some kind of robotic shield to offer soldiers a few minutes of invisibility on the battlefield. The technology had been responsible for saving thousands of lives. Supposing Genetti Industries did business globally, Hadley assumed it would be with Europe or American allies in the Middle East, not Thailand. Then again, Hadley admitted to knowing zilch about Miller’s business, let alone military operations.
After watching an old and truly awful, made for TV movie, Hadley crawled into bed and read for a couple of hours. She drifted to sleep with the reader still clutched in her hands.
With enough light from the street lamp outside the window for her to see, Hadley glanced around. She wondered how she ended up in her childhood home. Her eyes roamed over the family portraits on the wall. She walked cautiously down the hall to her parents’ room to see if they were home. Her brain registered the impossibility, but her spirit skyrocketed. A feeling of inner peace rippled through her.
Time didn’t exist in dreams. For a fleeting moment, Hadley considered the horrible existence she lived all these years was merely a lengthy nightmare. In her newly awakened state, she couldn’t wait to reunite with her parents. When Hadley opened the door to their room, cold harsh reality slapped her in the face as she stared down at her dead mother.
“Hadley.”
Her head whipped around toward the familiar voice that sounded too frightened to be him. Someone Hadley didn’t recognize dragged Miller down the hall. His hand reached out for her as he continued to call her name in a desperate cry.
“Miller, what are you doing here?”
“Hadley.”
His eyes smoked with fear. He sounded like a scared child, rather than the confident and composed man Hadley had grown accustomed to.
Her hand reached out for his, but there was only air, her hand as empty as her heart.
She bolted upright in bed. Salty, bitter beads of sweat dripped into her mouth. Her soaked shirt clung to her skin. She shivered as the cool air from the open window chilled her bones.
Hadley ignored instructions from her brain to get out of bed and change her clothes. Instead she sat, hugging the covers, and tried to understand what transpired in the dream. As thoughts looped through her brain, Hadley stared absently at the wall in front of her. She’d had plenty of dreams about Miller and countless nightmares about her parents, but never had the two collided.
Why now?
She finally got out of bed and changed into a dry pair of pajamas. After making a note in her phone to discuss her dream with Dr. LeClair, Hadley climbed back in bed. She tangled her legs in the covers and rolled to her side. For over an hour, she watched the glowing red numbers of the alarm clock until she finally surrendered to sleep.
Hadley’s apartment faced east, allowing the morning sunrise that split the two buildings across the street to filter into the window and directly into her eyes. She stretched awake, feeling stressed and tired. Thankfully, it was Friday, and she would have all weekend to rest.
She went to the window, gazing out into the city and the clear summertime sky. On mornings like this, and if her apartment were up a few floors, Hadley would’ve been able to see all the way to the Hudson. Her heart raced behind her ribs as her dream replayed in her mind. She went over to the nightstand, retrieved her cell phone, and dialed Dr. LeClair’s number. After reassuring him she wasn’t in any danger, he agreed to meet her at his office at seven o’clock.
Hadley exited her apartment in a haste, her sense of smell overwhelmed by the sweet aroma of warm donuts from the bakery on the corner. Her stomach growled, but she had no time to stop for such treats. As it was, she would be about five minutes late to meet Dr. LeClair. Her delicate psyche couldn’t tolerate a reschedule.
Dr. LeClair’s friendly secretary, Donna, guided Hadley into his office. Hadley sat on the plush leather sofa in front of his desk. She waited for Dr. LeClair to mention her tardiness. He didn’t, which caused her to realize why she’d grown fond of him. He never lectured or spoke to her condescendingly or in a way that implied she was irresponsible or delusional, even if she might be both. To the good doctor, Hadley was merely a person who had a hard go of things, not a bad person or a broken person, but a human being that healed a little, day by day because he took the time to listen. Granted, she paid him for this, but she appreciated his lack of judgment. Sometimes, she even believed he rooted for her to succeed.
Hadley stared at his checkered shirt and bow tie while explaining the dream in detail. She then shared her mortifying elevator encounters with Miller, including mentioning the crass way Miller asked if she felt his erection. She waited patiently for Dr. LeClair to offer his professional opinion. Her knee bounced wildly while Dr. LeClair tapped his pen on his lips in a way that annoyed her.
After a few seconds, his thick eyebrows came together. He tossed the pen on the marble desktop. His hands folded together as he studied her.
“I think the dream is simply a result of anxiety.”
Well, no shit!
“But, why was Mr. Genetti at my parents’ house?”
Dr. LeClair answered instantly, “It may be because you’re afraid of the feelings you have for him. Bunching him and your parents together makes it easier to ignore those feelings.”
Hadley blinked back in surprise. “I’m attracted to him, but that hardly means I have feelings for him. I don’t know him.”
The doctor’s lip curled slightly before he shrugged and extended a finger to his desk. He tapped the hard surface once before saying, “Sexual attraction elicits feelings, and you’ve been attracted to him for a long time. Now that you’ve interacted with him personally, you’re scared.” Hadley shook her head frantically, doubting the accuracy of her therapist’s assumption. The doctor sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands in his lap and twiddled his thumbs. “Or it could be that you’re looking at him as a father figure.”
Hadley had extremely vivid sexual fantasies about this man. Thinking of him paternally repulsed her.
“No offense, doctor, but that’s absurd.”
Hadley could tell by the way the doctor nodded with a small smile and his head tilted slightly to the side that his next words were going to challenge her.
“I understand why you think that. I’m not perverting the attraction you have for him in anyway, but it is a logical conclusion after everything you’ve been through.” She slinked down in her chair and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Miller is older than you correct?” Hadley assumed so and nodded, but then shook her head, still evading the validity of her doctor’s professional opinion. “Perhaps deep down, Mr. Genetti is the type of man you wished your father had been like. Would things have turned out differently if your father was successful and your family was well-off?”
She decided to go with the notion she simply feared her feelings for Miller. Searching for the daddy she never had, in the man she had sexual feelings for, felt wrong.
“I assure you, I’m not looking for a father figure, but I am confused by my feelings for him. I’m worried about him…and I’m afraid I may never see him again.”
Behind the doctor’s smiling eyes, Hadley saw unwarranted pride. He ran his fingers through his white hair and leaned forward. “Then I think you have your answer.” His pause meant he expected a response, but words simply failed her. Hadley stared back at him with a dumfounded expression. “Admitting you care about someone is substantial progress for you.”
“I didn’t admit anything!” Hadley snapped.
“Not specifically, but we only worry when we care. That is human nature, and not a choice, Hadley.”
Hadley hated that she cared about Miller, and she couldn’t understand it. Lust and real feelings didn’t gel in her world. Her feelings were dirty, and if acted upon would lead to heartache.
“If I admit having feelings for him, I’ll get hurt. He may never come home and then he’ll be another person I cared for that left me.”
“He’ll come home, and when he does maybe he’ll be someone more…someone meaningful.”
Dr. LeClair didn’t say it directly, but when Miller returned she would have to work through how she felt. Her days of quietly stalking the sexy man from her office building had come to an end. She needed to sort out her emotions, separate sexual attraction from actually caring about Miller, but she didn’t do ‘meaningful’ in any sense of the word. She destroyed anyone ‘meaningful’, and then they abandoned her.
With as close as she had become to Mac, Hadley kept him at a safe distance in case she had to end their friendship, or, more importantly, when Mac wanted to. And, in time he would want to. It had taken years for her to see Mac outside of work. Anyone who had ever meant anything to her disappointed her, especially once she relinquished trust. She owned responsibility over her inability to maintain relationships, and she refused to put her heart though anymore torture.
“I don’t deserve meaningful.”
“Why?” Dr. LeClair asked.
“I think you know. The things I’ve done and let happen to me. I’m not the type of girl someone looks for a relationship with.”
The clock ticked on the wall. Dr. LeClair watched her from across his desk. Hadley looked into his eyes for acceptance, but was greeted with resistance. Her doctor never agreed with her insecurities, but she wasn’t budging. The squeaking of the leather chair as she shifted her weight sliced loudly through the silence. If her therapist didn’t speak soon, Hadley was going to lose it. He put it on her to further the conversation, but he wouldn’t like what she had to say. She decided rather than share how she would never address her feelings—regardless of the hope she saw in his eyes—she would tell him about the letter she wrote, but never sent.
Dr. LeClair listened intently and smiled when appropriate. When Hadley finished, his smile carved deeper. She knew what was coming before he opened his mouth and said, “I think you should mail it.”
Hadley rapidly shook her head to clear away the shock. “What? Aren’t you always telling me that my obsession with him is unhealthy?” Dr. LeClair didn’t respond verbally, but stared back at her thoughtfully. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “No, I can’t send it.”