Love/Fail

Chapter 19

Annoying Pinspiration Quote #19

"Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you are stronger than whatever tried to hurt you."

When I reached Rupert's little house after my first therapy session a week later, I found him playing guitar on the floor of his lounge room wearing nothing but black boxers. "Wow, don't dress up for me or anything."

"Oi! I'll have you know these things cost ninety quid! I am dressed up, thanks."

I grinned and kissed his nose. "If this is your idea of dressy, remind me to never take you to an awards night."

"How did you go, love?" he asked, watching me warily as I sat on the floor beside him.

"It was good. Better than I expected. Dr Melanie is lovely. I don't think she's going to try and break my tiny mind at this stage." I lifted a shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe she'll actually help me."

"Oh, thank Vishnu for that!" cried Rupert. "I don't think I could bear the guilt if I sent you along to another mad scientist intent on ruining your sanity rather than restoring it."

"She was very professional. Where did you find her?"

"Uhh..."

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Rupert. Why do you look like the naughty boy who got busted stealing candy?"

"I might have sought a professional reference."

"What does that mean?"

"I called Cody."

"Rupert!" My face began to burn. Rupert didn't know everything about my complex history with Cody, but he knew enough. "Why would you do that?"

"Because, he's actually a decent bloke, he knows every psychologist in town, and I wanted to make sure you didn't end up with another dud. He sounded happy to help."

"I'll be he was." I leaned back against the side of the couch, my insides churning. Cody had been trying to get me into therapy for years, but I'd always maintained that I had him and that was therapy enough. Did referring me on for help mean our friendship was ending?

"Don't be mad, love." Rupert strummed his guitar, trying to placate me with gentle melodies. "Don't give yourself more stress over something that's already done."

"Did... did he say anything about me?"

"Just that he'd like to speak to you. He seemed to think it was me preventing you from picking up a phone and dialling. I set him straight, told him I can't even prevent you from stealing the covers or drinking the last of the orange juice, so I had bugger all chance of influencing your communication habits."

"I'm going to call him."

"When?"

"Soon." I used my toe to poke Rupert in the side. "Now, play me something, you musical genius. What's the point of having a rock star as a boyfriend if he doesn't serenade you daily?"

Rupert chuckled and plucked out a tune. I watched him, this glorious man with the golden man-bun and smooth torso. Something prickled inside me, the first stirring of excitement in my belly since that night.

Every few moments, he would pause his playing and scribble something on his notepad. "How's the writing coming?" I asked.

"Good. Best for a long while." He kept strumming, the cheerful song filling the room. "It's the first time in ages I've been able to write anything that didn't sound like a suicidal gothic soundtrack."