Change of Plan

FORREST

MEGAN INHALED sharply, and I just froze in shock right there, struggling with fuzzy thoughts.

We stared at each other for like a fucking eternity. Then the realization just sucker-punched me in my gut—that day I bumped into her, she came for a job interview.

I was the first to look away, still finding it hard to think of anything to say, and it was too late to turn back—she already saw me. She probably was the woman who answered my call yesterday.

How the fuck didn’t I recognize her voice? Perhaps, I was used to her twang sexy accent while she sounded like a workaholic receptionist yesterday.

A twinge of guilt clogged in my throat. I remembered how we ended up our call last night. I didn’t know what crawled up my ass, but she was right at one thing though I should stay away from her. I was terrible to her, and she was a distraction from my plan.

She picked up the phone shakily. “Your 11 a.m is here.” Then she ended the call, looked at me, and smiled politely as if we had not known each other. Fucking great! “She’s ready for you.”

“We need to talk after my appointment,” I told her before I entered the room. More like I was not giving her a chance to say no.

Once I was inside, millions of thoughts rushed through me—the fear of her finding out my issue had rolled my gut, and that thought of her figuring out why I was seeing a therapist was only the tip of the iceberg. She would not look at me the same way again. She would despise me.

“Good morning, Forrest.” Dr. Reed pulled me back to the present.

“I’m sorry. Good morning, doc.” I released a long deep breath and sat on the couch, facing her.

Dr. Reed must have seen me uncomfortable. “Are you feeling okay?”

I looked straight at her and swallowed the ache in the back of my throat. Then I was like a fucking mute. I opened my mouth to speak, but the fucking word wouldn’t come out.

“Ask anything away, Forrest. You seem to have a lot in your mind right now.” Dr. Reed was calm and relaxed in her seat while I was sweating like a pig. I wanted to ask a lot about the woman behind that door.

“This is the purpose of our therapy,” she added.

“I think we should wrap up my visit. It’s not that you didn’t help me. You help me a lot. In fact, I am grateful for everything. The reason why I am still sane again and able to sleep without... nightmares, it’s because of you.”

She gave me a friendly smile. “Is this really what you want to do?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation, though that was not what I had in mind before seeing Megan at the front desk. I was about to open up my eventful meetings with Megan, and about last night, then things just turned real 180—Megan could have just checked out my record and ratted out to my friends.

“We have doctor-patient privilege, Forrest. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

“And if you don’t feel talking to me here in the clinic. We can arrange a coffee meeting or at the park so you could speak freely without feeling being trapped inside this room.”

“I think I am good.” I stood up, still carrying the heavy feeling in my chest.

“You can always call whenever you need my help. You won’t be coming back if you don’t trust me. I wish you good luck, Forrest.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Reed. And I will.” I walked toward the door and paused. After taking a deep breath, I turned to her again. “Do you know her?”

When she met my gaze, Dr. Reed was already standing, smoothing her skirt. “Who?”

“Your new receptionist.”

She smiled brightly. Her eyes lit up, and I was so fucking screwed. “Yes. Don’t worry about this conversation. It’s off the record, Forrest.”

I nodded, clumping my mouth shut. When I closed the door behind me, a guy was sitting on the chair, waiting for his turn. Megan was tapping on the tab when I approached her.

Her gaze lifted with slightly wide eyes. Every time over gazes locked, my world seemed to slow down. It was fucking insane. Then lately, it worsened. It didn’t just make my heart gallop, and it throbbed something inside me that I didn’t want to give my attention to it.

“When is your break?”

She looked down at the tab on the desk. “In thirty minutes.”

“Meet me at the restaurant across the street.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly answered, still pissed at me.

“Watch the road.” I didn’t know why I had to remind her. It was just that when it came to her, I had this instinct that I wanted to protect her.

I liked her. A lot. No doubt about that. I’d constantly been daydreaming about her for months, but I thought it was just due to my lack of sexual exploitation that had me a thing for her because she was fucking hot, but every time I saw her flirting with another man, I felt a dull ache in my chest. And these past few days, I couldn’t think of anything else other than her, in pain, in hurt, and seemingly lost.

I might have known the reasons why Megan had utterly changed. I should be running away from her while I still could.

“Stay away from me.” Fuck that! I didn’t want to stay away from her. I didn’t think I could. There was nothing impossible with compartmentalizing my plan with my personal life. I just wished she would trust me enough to share her pain with me without ending up in bed, but with the tension shifting between us, I didn’t think I could pull it off.

***

Thirty-five minutes passed. I watched the ice and mist melt on the glass, and there were no signs of Megan. I was a patient man. At the same time, I could feel that she wouldn’t show up in my gut. I grabbed the glass and emptied the content to wash away the anger boiling in my chest.

She could have just said she didn’t want to, but she agreed to meet me instead.

I signaled the waiter, and he rushed toward my table. I slipped a few bills with his tip before I stood from the table that I was supposed to spend lunch with Megan if she showed up. Her rejection and her bailing out on me had angered me to the core, but that was her decision. I thought my insanity should end here.

The sun pricked my skin when I marched to my car. I wanted to break something in annoyance that I let my hopes high. I needed to remind myself constantly. I had a monster to find, and involving myself with her was not a part of my plan. All I could think of was I was screwing things up.

When I got inside my car, I hit the button on the screen and let Thunderstruck of AC/DC blaring through the speaker before I drove off. Then my music was interrupted by a call. The automated voice announced the caller.

Fucking great!

“Yes?”

“Forrest?” She seemed to catch her breath that had me frown.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I’m so sorry. I really wanted to call you earlier, but—”

“No worries. I wasn’t expecting you to show up. We’re good.” Who would be a fool to believe it, Forrest?

“It’s just—”

“Don’t bother. I have to catch up on something. Good luck with your work. Bye—”

“Forrest!” she yelled at me.

“Yes, Megan,” I wanted to yell back, but it was not her fault. I was the one who told her that we needed to talk. “What?” Then the siren echoed from the other of the line. “Are you okay?” Jesus! Can’t she ever stay out of trouble?

“No.” I went rigid when I realized her voice was shaking—Megan was terrified. I quickly hit the brake. My car skidded to a halt. Damn it! I would be the one in trouble.

“On my way.” I hung up. I was in the middle of the road, and it fucking annoyed me when I couldn’t find the nearest U-turn.

I felt riddled with guilt about what I thought earlier. I was a fucking idiot. I didn’t even ask what happened to her and why an ambulance was in the background. I just lost focus, thinking that she was hurt. My early annoyance converted into a fucking boiling rage.

I redialed her number when I got the U-turn, and it just rang.

Just great! I had the urge to drive more than the speed limit, but the last thing I wanted was to get into trouble with cops when I was good at avoiding this for years. I took deep breaths in an effort to calm myself.

I clenched my jaw to the aching point when the clinic came to view. There was no ambulance around. I climbed out of the car and crossed the street. I pushed the glass door and rushed inside the clinic building to where Dr. Reed occupied the entire second floor.

When I got there, I flitted my gaze around, Megan was not there, and her desk was already empty. I was wrapped with these dreadful unrecognizable emotions that shook me—the fear, conflict, and sympathy.

“Come on. Fucking answer me.” I redialed her number. I wanted to throw the phone when she didn’t pick up. I sprinted down the stairs. When I was outside, I searched the parking lot for Megan’s car.

I let out a deep sigh of relief when it was still parked. The knock over her window startled her. When I pulled the door open, what I was not expecting was her throwing herself into me with a tight hug. She was crying and shaking, which broke my heart immensely.

I struggled to speak, to find the right words. My stomach flipped and hardened at the thought of her getting hurt. Again.

Now that she was crying, all I wanted was to get rid of anything that caused her pain. I tentatively wrapped my arms around Megan and bowed my head to plant a kiss at the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo flooded my senses and seemed to calm me down slowly.

“What happened?” Finally, I found my voice. I ran my fingers on her soft and silky hair. The last time I had this was with my mother, and I did everything to protect her from pain, from cruelty, from getting hurt. With Megan, I wanted to do the same.

“Mom,” she murmured against my chest.

“Your mom? Is she okay?”

“No.”

I pulled her away and held her arms. “Where’s your mom?”

She was wiping her tears, still looked pretty shaken.

“Megan, where’s your mom?” I stared at her closely. “Look at me, please?”

When she lifted her gaze at me, I realized that we actually had something in common.