Zenith Rising (28 page)

Spencer knew exactly why. Because Erica was
the inquisitive woman she was.

“Then I came along.”

“Yes. I saw the weird attraction she had
toward you. Telling me to back off. I knew she believed you were in
love with each other.”

“I should have listened to you. She just… she
was so convincing; she was a good time girl. She claimed what we
were doing was exactly what she wanted.”

“She’s not well. I knew that. What could I
do? I’ve been encouraging her to get help and counseling. I suspect
she might be bi-polar. At the very least, she’s emotionally
unstable.”

“And that’s why she seemed to need you and
only you today? And why you agreed to see her?”

“Yes. Despite you.”

Erica got up and came around her desk before
she started pacing. “I knew better. That this was wrong. Us. She
was on a very narrow line and anything would push her over. And
learning about us, that knowledge pushed her. I’m sure of it. I
should have known better.”

“You can’t be held responsible for her mental
stability. You can’t live your life around what your employee, or
your patient intends to do. I’d be more at fault than you, if that
were the case. I didn’t know either.”

“Well, I did.”

“Erica, we…”

“We’ve been a mistake from the start. I knew
that too. You’re like a goddamn train wreck for me.”

“That’s not fair…”

“Not right now. I can’t do this right
now.”

“Okay. What is the cure for the… what is it
called again?”

“Pseudocyesis. And there is no cure. It’s not
real clear what anyone should do. Since Tamira suffers from
emotional problems that could’ve directly brought this on, like her
guilt over the abortion, and abuse and her dad; whatever it was led
her to believe she is now having your baby. So I’ve got to tell her
the truth.”

“You just tell her?”

“I will show her using the ultrasound and
that there is nothing there. No heartbeat. No fetus. Nothing. I’m
also calling a counselor we have on-call, and hopefully, Tamira can
be treated for the underlying emotional and psychological causes of
this false pregnancy.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, now
feeling completely shaken. Completely freaked out. But also
completely in awe of Erica’s ability to face things, as well as her
ceaseless compassion. Her innate goodness. She was so much more
than he was. So much more than he could ever be. It was illustrated
perfectly by this incident and how they both reacted to the
situation.

He hated to ask, but he didn’t know what to
do. “What do I do?”

Erica sighed and her shoulders dropped. “Go
home, Spencer. Just go home.”

Spencer stood up, wanting to reach a hand out
to her and touch her. Hug her. Kiss her. Care for her. She looked
so tired. So upset. So stressed. By him. And Tamira. He didn’t
touch her though. He didn’t do anything.

“I’m sorry, Erica,” he said softly.

She waved her hand at him. “Just please get
out and leave me alone. I can’t take much more, not right now.
Maybe not ever.”

Chapter Eighteen

Erica handled Spencer wrong, and now she
blamed him for the medical and emotional well being of a girl who
was screwed up long before Spencer even entered the picture. She
lost her cool with him because she couldn’t lose it with Tamira or
the situation. She got so rattled by walking into that exam room
and finding them there, together, in her domain that she almost
couldn’t remember what exactly she was supposed to be doing.

She hated thinking about Spencer sleeping
with Tamira. It bothered her from the night she first witnessed it.
And what bothered her even more was she wasn’t worried about Tamira
as she claimed to be. She was jealous. Jealous that Spencer wanted
Tamira. And did that with Tamira. As Erica worked, talked, and put
up with Tamira, she never stopped wondering how many times they
slept together. When? Where? What they really meant to each
other.

And all the while, the poor girl was becoming
undone. Dissociating. Losing her mind. Erica was merely jealous,
like they were still in high school and she was mad Spencer passed
notes to the new cheerleader and not to her. Meanwhile, Tamira was
having an emotional breakdown right in front of her.

What was it about Spencer that could turn
intelligent, and not so intelligent women, into basket cases of
shredded nerves, anxiety, and female complexes? Was it just female
competition? How could Spencer turn Erica into someone who would
sleep with one of her patients’ lovers?

And it’s not like she could say she and
Spencer were in love. She had no clue what Spencer thought. Or
felt. Or cared about. She didn’t know about his past; hell, she
hardly even knew about his present.

But she was falling fast and hard in love
with him. Despite how difficult he was to be with. To know. To
love. She did, and she was. And it terrified her. She feared the
power he’d have over her. What he’d do to her. What she’d let him
do to her heart.

The day spent with Tamira seemed endless.
Tears. Denial. Anger. More tears. Erica patiently tried to show
Tamara the truth. Proving it by using the most high tech of tests
for evidence. She simply wasn’t pregnant. Erica finally left Tamira
in the hands of Dr. Kerrington, a specialist in grief counseling.
That’s how upset Tamira became. As if she lost the baby and was
grieving over that.

All day, the next, and the one after that,
Erica thought about Spencer. She remembered how lost he looked
standing in her office. He wanted her to forgive him. To find a
little compassion for him. And she completely ignored him. Even
turned away from him. He, who didn’t call her Erica. Not like that.
Not in that serious, caring voice. She could physically feel he
wanted to touch her and she rejected him. He, who never reached out
to people, ever, but he tried to with her. And she was too mad at
him to care. To accept his overtures. She was mad at him for doing
nothing more than being an adult and having consensual sex.

The truth was: she wasn’t acting like an
adult about sex that happened long before she entered the picture
with Spencer.

He couldn’t have known how fragile Tamira
was. He couldn’t be blamed for her hysterical pregnancy. He
couldn’t be blamed for her jealousy over what happened before she
ever even noticed Spencer as a man. A man she could love.

As he well knew, she didn’t consider him
someone she could date. He was too young and too different from her
lifestyle. Too tall. Too poor. Too whatever. She used every reason
she could think of, letting off all the signals that he wasn’t
suitable for her to date. Or to be noticed as a worthy man in his
own right.

Except: he was worthy. He stood by Tamira,
all the while seething inside, but stayed there and was willing to
stand by her. He was a brilliant pianist, and a hard worker, no
matter what task he was given. She overlooked him. She did not even
consider dating him.

There was so much more to Spencer that
explained why he was how he was. And she wanted to know what and
why, and what to do about it. What to do with the feelings clogging
up her brain, making her heart beat rougher, and her stomach
churn.

Spencer scared her. He was nothing like any
man she pictured for herself. Nothing at all. He was like no man
she ever considered. And that scared her. Not knowing what to
expect. Or what to feel. Just thinking of him put butterflies in
her stomach. Never feeling quite like this before, she became
almost giddy over him, which was not exactly something she’d ever
experienced before.

Now she just had to figure out how to get him
to talk to her again.

****

Rob answered her knock.

“Erica?” His eyebrows rose up.

“Hi. Is Spencer here?”

“Yeah. Sure. He’s upstairs. Come in,” Rob
said, stepping aside, and waving his hand for her to enter. Her
heart accelerated with nerves now that she was here, ready to do
this.

She felt the urge to clear her throat and
explain herself to Rob; or the very least, ask Rob what the hell
she should do. But instead, she stood there, mute.

“Is everything okay?”

“Mostly. Why do you ask?”

Rob shrugged. “Spencer’s been here the last
few days. Won’t say why. Won’t say a word.”

“Does he do that often?” Erica asked. She was
hungry for knowledge of the man she loved, and didn’t really know.
She didn’t always get or understand Spencer, and Rob was probably
the only person alive with any true comprehension of his
personality.

“Yeah, Erica he can do this often.”

“Why? What sets him off?”

“Lately? You. But other times? Hard to say.
Just things. Memories. Ask him, Erica. No one ever asks him, so it
wouldn’t occur to him to say why.”

Erica licked her lips with nervous gratitude.
“I will. Thanks, Rob.”

Rob smiled, and nodded. “I’m glad you’re
here. He’s inside the third door on the left.”

Erica wondered desperately why Rob was glad
she was there? And what could it possibly be that so plagued
Spencer? Why didn’t anyone know about him? Why didn’t more people
care about him? Why was there no one, but Rob?

Erica turned and went up the stairs, entering
the dark hallway. Music thumped from behind a closed door. It was
loud with a deep bass, and nothing she liked or would listen to. Of
course. Why should they share the same taste in music?

Erica opened the door after receiving no
reply to her knock. Inside, Spencer was seated on a weight machine,
pressing two bars together as the weights behind him clicked up and
down. Sweat poured off him, and beaded on his forehead. His tank
top was stuck to his skin, and his black shorts were damp with
sweat.

The music was loud, jarring and young. Not
exactly her choice.

She had to step into his line of vision for
him to notice her, so loud was the room. And so intensely was he
working with the weights. He stopped dead when he noticed her and
just stared. Nothing on him twitched or flinched. Not even a muscle
in his face.

Finally, he slowly let the weights down.
Standing up, he crossed the room, and turned the speaker down that
his iPod was hooked into. He did not seem glad to see her.

He straightened to his full height, and Erica
took a deep breath as trepidation filled her.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, unable to
think of anything else to say. She had a long speech all prepared
in her head. A reason that explained everything she had said and
done. But he didn’t look like he cared to hear any of it. So… the
bottom line was that she was sorry.

He grabbed a towel he threw in the corner of
the room and wiped off his face and arms. She watched his muscles
bunching under his skin that was so dark and slick. Her gut
tightened. Sometimes, he was so unapproachable and could be so
cold.

She neared him and he stiffened when she put
a hand out to his arm, sliding it up to his shoulder.

He practically jerked at her soft touch. “I’m
sweaty.”

“I don’t care.” She brought her body closer,
placing her other hand on his other arm. His muscles tensed under
her grip before his body became rigid. He turned, and shook her
off, then sat back down on the weight machine.

“Forget it. Forget all of it.”

His back was toward her, and his voice
sounded so cold, it made her flinch. She went up behind him, and
put her hands on his shoulders, pressing her mouth on the base of
his neck. She began kissing him, softly, repeatedly, all along his
hairline, over his ear, and on his cheek. He simply stopped
moving.

“I’m not forgetting anything. Or us. I’m
sorry. So sorry,” she said as she kissed him, gently, with
feather-like kisses. He sighed and melted back into her, his
shoulders sagging and his head turning just enough that his mouth
caught hers. She moved closer and brushed her hands through his
hair. Her tongue sought out his lips, and pressed, until finally,
he opened his mouth, as his tongue joined hers. She could feel his
hesitance to let her touch him. Yet anytime she did, he became
still, nearly perfectly still. Almost like he was afraid to move or
acknowledge she was touching him lest she stop.

Spencer felt something new for her, something
deep and real. Something he didn’t know what to do with. He snapped
at her, and rejected her, trying to get away from her, because
strange as it seemed, he wanted just the opposite from her. Yet,
when she cornered him, he couldn’t resist her. That’s all she had
to go on. But she was sure this thing between them was something
big, and something very real. She had no doubt about it. Now she
just had to figure out how to deal with it. She couldn’t understand
what it did to Spencer, who erected such defenses, it seemed almost
like a body suit of armor around him.

She took his hands in hers and held him and
kissed him. Finally, parting her lips from his, she trailed her
kisses into his hair. He flipped his hands over to grasp her wrists
and turned towards her. With Spencer sitting down, she was just
slightly taller. “Back where we left off, Doc? Thanks, but I’ve had
more than my fair share of women for now. I don’t need sex that
badly.”

She flinched and let out a breath. He was so
good at this: he could tell a person off like no one else she knew.
He could be so mean.

“Left off? No, in my version, it was dating.
Not just sleeping together. I’m not going to go crazy on you. I’m
not going to become hysterically pregnant. I shouldn’t have taken
everything out on you.”

“Why? I deserved it,” he said. The invisible
wall stood between them; he thought he didn’t deserve her. And had
failed once again.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”