Dr. Chase Hudson (The Surrogate Book 2) (5 page)

But the smoke always made me cough a little and I
shrugged out of my backpack and propped the front door open so the
smoke would clear.

“Mom?” I called again, walking in through
the apartment, my dirty clothes tossed into a piled in a corner,
ashtrays overflowing on the coffee table.

In the kitchen, one of her special bottles was laying
on the dining room table. One of the special bottles which were full
of the drinks that smelled bad enough to make my eyes water. Mom
liked those too. Like her cigarettes, they made her calm too.

The bottle was almost empty and I figured she must have
gone down the street to get more from the store.

So I did my homework. Then I looked around for
something to eat.

The fridge was empty. But that was normal. Maybe if she
picked up more of her special bottles, she would pick up some food
for dinner too.

I went to bed still hoping for that, belly growling and
churning angrily.

But that was normal too.

School would feed me breakfast and lunch the next day.
Then my belly would feel better.

I heard the slam sometime later, waking me out of a
dead sleep and making me shoot up in bed, my heart pounding in my
chest.

“Ow,” Mom's voice groaned and I flew out of
bed, moving out into the living room to find her half-sprawled across
the living room floor, rubbing at her ankle. “Oh, hey Chasey
baby,” she said, smiling up at me, her eyes glassy.

“Hi Mom,” I said, sitting down next to her,
noticing there was a tear up the side of her dress. “You okay?”

That was all it took.

A simple question.

A normal question to ask someone who had just tripped.

But a question like that, for my mother, well... it
meant more.

I knew this because she burst into tears. Not the quiet
type. The loud, sobbing, hysterical type. She laid down fully, her
forehead to the floor, her entire body wrecking with her cries as she
pounded her fist against the floor. The cries turned into a sort of
screeching that had me bringing my hands up to my ears to try to
block them out, rocking and humming to myself.

That was how the cops found us a while later. Me
rocking and humming. Mom crying and screaming.

Then the cops took me into the kitchen and talked to
me.

Then other people showed up.

They told my mom that she couldn't take care of me
anymore. At least until she was feeling better.

Then they took me away.

And suddenly it wasn't just my mom who was crying and
screaming.

It was me too.

**

“Fuck,” I growled, sitting up on the couch,
holding my head in my hands. It was nothing new. The nightmares that
weren't nightmares, they were memories. They weren't new. I couldn't
sleep without at least one of them coming back. And, believe me,
there were plenty to choose from.

It had been a long time since it was that one, though.
The first one. The one that started them all. The one that cut the
deepest.

Months. It had been months since it was that one.

I stood up, grabbing my keys, and charging out of my
apartment. I didn't want to be alone with my ghosts. Not when they
were breathing down my neck, forcing me to acknowledge them.

It was the stress.

I knew that.

Stress brought them back worse.

And I was stressed about the whole Ava situation.

So I walked out of my building and across the street,
bent on getting a drink or two, maybe some dinner, before heading
back home to pass out.

That was, until I opened the door, and froze.

Because there she was. Ava, sitting at the bar with a
martini and an appetizer plate. She seemed uncomfortable and alone.
In
my
bar. The bar across from
my
apartment building.

Fuck me.

And, again, there really wasn't a choice. I knew I was
supposed to walk away. Leave. To do anything but what I ended up
doing. I went to her. I sat down with her. I talked to her. I figured
out why she was there.

Then the asshole came up.

The roommate.

The one who dragged her to the bar in the first place
then abandoned her.

“Hey. Don't bother, dude. She's not interested,”
I felt myself almost start to nod, glad that she had someone in her
life to fend off unwanted guys at bars. But, unfortunately, Jake
wasn't done speaking. “She's not interested in anyone but her
sex doctor.”

The look of absolute horror that came across Ava's face
was enough to make me want to drag the dick outside and give him a
different kind of talking-to.

But that wasn't my place.

“Shut the hell up, Jake,” Ava demanded, her
eyes begging him to follow her orders.

But apparently Jake was dense or drunk or a dick. Or
all three. He just kept going. “No seriously. She's like...
frigid dude. You don't want her.”

Jesus Christ.

Ava's gaze flew to her lap where she was wringing her
hands together, a blush over her cheeks, her teeth nipping into her
lower lip. She looked like she wanted the ground to open up and
swallow her right then and there.

I sighed, leaning in front of her, extending my hand to
her asshole roommate. “Dr. Chase Hudson,” I said,
watching Jake stiffen.

“Oh,” he said, dropping my hand.

“Yeah...
oh
,” I enunciated, fighting
hard against the anger in my system as I glanced at Ava again. “What
you just did to her is absolutely fucking unacceptable,” I
growled.

“Dude, I didn't mean any offense...”

“It's not me you should be apologizing to, it's
her. Do you have any idea how insensitive that was? Knowing that she
is struggling , to rub it in her face in front of someone you thought
was a stranger? You need to take better care of her.”

Didn't he see how lucky he was to be in her life? To
share her bumbling, awkward, stumbling speech? To get to see her shy
smiles? To hear her laugh?

“I'm not her boyfriend or brother man,”
Jake insisted, looking uncomfortable. But he was just pressing the
issue to save his pride. He felt bad. And that was good. He should.

“No, but you're the reason she's here in the
first place. This obviously isn't the kind of thing she's comfortable
with. And then you fucking abandon her. Then make fun of her? Who
does shit like that? She's in your life. You care about her at all...
fucking do better,” I said, throwing some money on the bar, too
pissed to stick around and hear any kind of excuses he might come
with.

I took a breath, turning back to Ava. “Ava,”
I said, my tone softer as I waited for her gaze to find mine. When it
did, I offered her a small smile. “I will see you Thursday,”
I said, turning and making my way back across the street.

Thursday.

How the fuck was I going to get myself under control by
Thursday?

Second Session

Thursday was a blur of patients. The wife again. There
was still no progress. If anything, the bitterness was getting worse-
poisoning the well of potential reconciliation. I had the distinct
impression I would be helping her through her divorce before the end
of the year.

Such was the job sometimes.

I was looking over some notes when the door swung open,
bringing a rush of cold air that made my gaze rise.

And there she was.

And she looked beautiful.

Like herself, but not.

She was dressed up. She wore a form-fitting black long
sleeve dress, stockings, and heels. “Ava,” I breathed out
her name, dropping the papers. “Can you lock the door behind
you please?” I asked, attempting a casual tone as she turned to
do so. Before she even turned back, I was across the room. And then
it just... tripped out. “You look beautiful.” As would be
expected, my clumsy compliment was met with silence. I sighed
inwardly, shaking my head. “Come on, let's go get you a drink,
okay?” I asked, sensing the anxiety coming off her in waves.

Not surprising.

Getting naked with someone new was usually anxiety
inducing. For someone who struggled with intimacy... even more so.
And for someone who was paying someone else to help them get over
those hangups? I couldn't imagine.

I got her a martini. She put on music.
Singer-songwriters because it was a safe bet. Non-sexual.

“Why don't you kick out of those shoes?” I
suggested after I led her over toward the sectional and went to turn
on the fireplace.

Then I turned and sat down next to her, giving her no
space to pull into herself, no time to freak out, as I wrapped an arm
behind her back and pulled her legs over my lap.

“Hi,” I said, tilting my head down at her.

“Hi,” she said back on a whisper, a
charming little lopsided smile on her face.

Sometimes it wasn't the massive flirting, the
outlandish confidence, the alluring sexual prowess. Sometimes all it
took was a woman being fully, unapologetically... herself. Even if
that woman was shy and awkward and unsure of herself. That was what
got a man's attention- genuineness.

And every fucking thing about Ava was real.

And it was becoming a problem for me.

I dropped my eyes from hers, my hand going to run down
her hip and thigh, the silky smoothness of her stockings gliding
across my palm. “I like these,” I admitted. “Did
you wear them for me?”

There was a strange lightness in her eyes at that,
something passing behind them and I found myself wanting to know what
it was. But then her eyes dropped to watch my hand and she answered
her lap. “Yes.”

Fuck me.

“You're so sweet,” I said, unable to hold
out any longer and I leaned down and started planting small kisses
across her jaw- her skin smelling like her. Something soft and
feminine. Vanilla. Lotion or perfume. It was practically fucking
narcotic. Her eyes closed on a small sigh. “Ava...”

“Yeah?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“Kiss me.”

Her eyes flew open, looking more surprised than
horrified though and I figured that was a good sign. Her gaze lowered
to my lips and I fought the smile I felt forming. She wanted me. It
wasn't just because she knew she was supposed to be intimate with me.
It wasn't something she had to talk herself into. She just... wanted
me.

Her arm lifted tentatively off her leg, hovering in the
air for the barest of seconds then brushing across the side of my
face before settling at the back of my neck. I closed my eyes, taking
a steadying breath, trying to force down the urgency of my desire.
She needed patience and understanding. She needed me to get a fucking
hold of myself.

My eyes opened to find her watching me. Then she tilted
upward and closed the space between us, her lips falling on mine
softly. Carefully.

But the contact sent off shock waves to my system. My
arm around her shoulders tightened, my fingers dug into her shoulder,
trying to let her have the control she needed. Then her lips pressed
the kiss deeper and, fuck me, she dug her teeth into my lower lip.

I could only take so much.

I grabbed her and pulled her across me until she was
straddling my waist. Her hands went up, cradling my face, completely
lost in the moment. In the sensations. Her tongue slipped between my
lips and my hands crushed into her hips- equally trying to pull her
closer and keep her at a distance. Her arms went around my neck, her
hips sinking down.

There was nothing else in the world in that moment.

I could have let her kiss me forever.

But we had a session.

And I wasn't exactly unhappy to end the kiss so I could
see more of her. All of her.

My hands went to the sides of her face, guiding her
backward, watching as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Heavy lidded.
Full of longing. “Jesus Christ you're beautiful,” I
murmured, in the moment too far gone to think about my professional
boundaries. My finger traced across her cheekbone. “I want to
see more of you,” I started, watching as the desire drained
from her brown eyes. “Take off your dress, sweetheart.”
Her body went rigid. Fuck. “Don't freak out,” I said
softly, my hands moving to her hips and scrunching into the material
so I didn't start pulling it off her. “I want to take this off
you so badly, but you need to be the one to do it.”
Unfortunately. “Please take it off for me.”

I could see a dozen thoughts floating across her face,
stifling a smile because I knew how highly people with anxiety prized
their ability to not be obvious about it, to not let other people see
they were struggling. But fuck if her eyes weren't an open book. She
had the worst poker face in the world.

Her hands moved down her body to settle on top of mine,
squeezing, silently telling me to let go. So I did. She took a few
deep breaths before grabbing the hem of her dress and quickly (before
she could talk herself out of it) ripped the material off and tossed
it to the side.