Page 83 of Desperate Victory

Freddie paled. Yes, I understood the problem very well.

“Then I’m always going to be like this? Even if I really want to be like her? To push my boundaries?”

“No,” I said. “Not at all. You just have to find a new way to fight that instinct. Your amygdala learned everything it knows from trauma. It’s kept you alive. That’s reinforced what it knows…”

“But?” The sharp demand accompanied his stopping on the sidewalk to face me again. “Bodhi, there has to be something. Don’t say therapy. I tried… I really did. I hate talking to people I don’t know and that crap we did at Pinetree was only fun when you were terrifying the group leader.”

I grinned. “Fair. No, I think you and PPG need to make it a game. Find a contact that you can take from her. Reward yourself when you get to feel her. Train your amygdala that her touch is welcome.”

“That sounds stupid easy.”

“Unfortunately, it won’t be,” I admitted. “We are a product of our experiences. The darker, and more traumatic ones leave scars so deep down they become a part of us. Then when we look in the mirror, we want to see what was there before, but that person is gone. We can only ever be the product of our experiences.”

“Kintsugi,” Freddie said abruptly.

“Exactly.”

He scowled and I rested a hand on his shoulder, a light touch. Though he stilled at the contact, his physical reactions did not betray new stress.

“Talk to PPG. Make it a game for the two of you. She’ll want to help.”

“She shouldn’t…” He didn’t finish the sentence, and I let him go before I pulled open the door to the pub. “She really shouldn’t,” he murmured. “Everyone else is so much better for her.”

“Word to the wise, my friend,” I told him as I waved him inside. “Don’t argue with your lady. They have very creative ways to prove you wrong.”

His soft bark of laughter was exactly what I wanted. “She is stubborn.”

“This is a good thing. You both survived. Now you both need to thrive.”

I ordered the beers and then moved with Freddie to the back of the pub. I checked my phone for tracking data after I took a seat. Lainey was still at the theater.

Across the table, Freddie studied the icy cold bottle the bartender had served. I’d watched him open both and declined the glasses.

“You think I can really do this?” Freddie asked and I met his gaze evenly.

“Do you love her more than yourself?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No reconsideration.

“Then you have your answer.”

It wouldn’t be easy. But then, nothing worth having ever really was.

“I really want to believe you,” Freddie admitted. “I am so scared of fucking up. Sometimes, it gets so hard and then I think, I’ll do a hit or two and that will make it okay. One or two can’t hurt and then I remember that I’m an addict, and there is no such thing as just one or two.”

Silence draped the table at the end of his statement and he tipped his bottle up and took a long drink.

“Thanks,” he said eventually.

“Always,” I told him before taking another drink of my own.

This wasn’t an overnight problem nor was it an overnight fix. But I had faith in both of them.

“Would you like me to tell you a story and distract you?” It was the one thing I could do.

“Fuck yes,” Freddie said, damn near sagging then he shot me an almost chagrinned look. “I mean… Please?”

“You asked me once why I kept going into the facilities and I told you I was looking for someone.”