Read Online Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3) by Shealy James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shealy James
Ads: Link
after that, but I forced myself to be professional for every interview. Part of me still couldn’t believe Jameson hurt me. The idea that I might be weaker than I ever considered made me want to curl up in a ball and cry, but I managed to refrain. What kind of psychologist would I be if I started crying every time I thought about what happened? Furthermore, what kind of woman would I be?
By Thursday, I mostly focused on work even if I couldn’t shake the sensation that Jameson was out there watching me. On top of my paranoia, my insides still felt like they had somehow solidified, making me constantly ache and feel like the dumbest girl on the planet. Thankfully, my brain seemed to function semi-normally because I had a class before the two interviews scheduled for that afternoon. Class was the same old routine minus my participation. I was always a good student. I listened and responded. Yes, I was that kid who always had my hand up when the teacher asked a question. I wasn’t trying to be teacher’s pet; I was simply trying to get off the farm. Now, my participation consisted of taking down the notes needed to help me remember what I was supposed to be doing.
My interviews were more interesting than my classes, though. The first one of the day also happened to be my first female veteran. She had quite a different experience both in combat, or lack thereof, and with therapy. After her therapy, she fell in love and married another soldier. They now have two children and live a quiet life. She was a CBT success story for sure. I made a point to note her interview for further discussion with Dr. Wright.
Between interviews, I checked my voicemail and found that Jameson had left messages. He was apologizing while telling me how miserable his life was suddenly. While he didn’t sound as hysterical as the other night, message after message begged me to talk to him. I listened to them all, more and more intrigued with each one. I didn’t stop feeling things for the other, less frightening version of Jameson when all this happened. It was just the opposite. I longed for the charming man who showed me Manhattan. I was thinking of that man when I foolishly answered my phone when it rang in my hand, even knowing it wasn’t my Jameson calling.
“You have to stop calling me, Jameson. What you did can’t be undone.”
“I know, Sarah, but you have to know how sorry I am.” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was my Jameson. “I don’t care what happens to me. I only want you back. I’d rather talk to you in person. Will you meet me? Are you at the VA?” He sounded sincere, but I wasn’t giving in to his pleading. I knew better now. It didn’t matter if I missed him. In the deepest part of my heart, I knew I missed a man who actually did not exist.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, Sarah. I need to tell you things…in person.”
I tried to sound braver than I felt when I said, “Tell me now. This is the last time we’ll talk. You hurt me, Jameson. I can’t take that risk again.” My voice sounded flat, but the emotions churning inside of me resembled a roller coaster more than anything else.
“No!” he pleaded. “I love you, Sarah. I need you. We can get through this. I miss you. We haven’t spent a day apart in months. I lose my mind one time, and you’re gone. This can’t be it. This can’t be the end.”
The temperature felt like it increased a million degrees. Sweat started to bead on my back, so I slipped my suit jacket off and threw it on my chair. My silk shell was about to be drenched if I allowed Jameson to keep this up.
“Stop. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have raised a hand to me. I have bruises.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry!” And there he was. The other, more dangerous Jameson made his appearance.
The pet name made me cringe with disgust. “That’s enough. I can’t do this right now. I have another interview then I have work to do. I filed a police report,
By Thursday, I mostly focused on work even if I couldn’t shake the sensation that Jameson was out there watching me. On top of my paranoia, my insides still felt like they had somehow solidified, making me constantly ache and feel like the dumbest girl on the planet. Thankfully, my brain seemed to function semi-normally because I had a class before the two interviews scheduled for that afternoon. Class was the same old routine minus my participation. I was always a good student. I listened and responded. Yes, I was that kid who always had my hand up when the teacher asked a question. I wasn’t trying to be teacher’s pet; I was simply trying to get off the farm. Now, my participation consisted of taking down the notes needed to help me remember what I was supposed to be doing.
My interviews were more interesting than my classes, though. The first one of the day also happened to be my first female veteran. She had quite a different experience both in combat, or lack thereof, and with therapy. After her therapy, she fell in love and married another soldier. They now have two children and live a quiet life. She was a CBT success story for sure. I made a point to note her interview for further discussion with Dr. Wright.
Between interviews, I checked my voicemail and found that Jameson had left messages. He was apologizing while telling me how miserable his life was suddenly. While he didn’t sound as hysterical as the other night, message after message begged me to talk to him. I listened to them all, more and more intrigued with each one. I didn’t stop feeling things for the other, less frightening version of Jameson when all this happened. It was just the opposite. I longed for the charming man who showed me Manhattan. I was thinking of that man when I foolishly answered my phone when it rang in my hand, even knowing it wasn’t my Jameson calling.
“You have to stop calling me, Jameson. What you did can’t be undone.”
“I know, Sarah, but you have to know how sorry I am.” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was my Jameson. “I don’t care what happens to me. I only want you back. I’d rather talk to you in person. Will you meet me? Are you at the VA?” He sounded sincere, but I wasn’t giving in to his pleading. I knew better now. It didn’t matter if I missed him. In the deepest part of my heart, I knew I missed a man who actually did not exist.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, Sarah. I need to tell you things…in person.”
I tried to sound braver than I felt when I said, “Tell me now. This is the last time we’ll talk. You hurt me, Jameson. I can’t take that risk again.” My voice sounded flat, but the emotions churning inside of me resembled a roller coaster more than anything else.
“No!” he pleaded. “I love you, Sarah. I need you. We can get through this. I miss you. We haven’t spent a day apart in months. I lose my mind one time, and you’re gone. This can’t be it. This can’t be the end.”
The temperature felt like it increased a million degrees. Sweat started to bead on my back, so I slipped my suit jacket off and threw it on my chair. My silk shell was about to be drenched if I allowed Jameson to keep this up.
“Stop. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have raised a hand to me. I have bruises.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry!” And there he was. The other, more dangerous Jameson made his appearance.
The pet name made me cringe with disgust. “That’s enough. I can’t do this right now. I have another interview then I have work to do. I filed a police report,
Similar Books
