Page 63 of Game Plan

“What other things?”

“Huh…let’s see. I told someone truths I didn’t wanna tell him. It just spilled out—personal stuff I never intended to share with anyone. Now I’m not sure where we stand and how it will affect our relationship.”

“Is it information that this person can use against you?”

I shook my head, my face buried in my palms. “Nah. It’s just… I didn’t want him to know that about me. We were fighting and⁠—”

“Fighting?” Luciana asked with question marks filling her gaze.

“Not fighting fighting, but more like arguing. It got messy, but not in a bad way. Maybe I’m overreacting.”

“Melinda, don’t judge your reactions. Instead, ask yourself why you reacted the way you did. What triggered you? What were you trying to say? How could your message have been perceived differently from what you intended?”

I took a big inhale. “I think we dealt with stuff that needed to be dealt with. I’m just not sure why I blurted it all out.”

“Perhaps a part of you wanted him to know things, no? Or maybe, subconsciously, you wanted to clear the air between you two? Could I be right?”

I offered her a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe.”

“Think about it. We’ll circle back to you in a few minutes.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Okay, people. I wanted to talk to you about something. For our next meeting, we’ll⁠—”

My brain didn’t register what she was saying, too busy reeling back to what she had said about a part of me wanting to spill the truths about Jayden’s and my relationship to Mason.

Could she be right?

Once again, she forced me to assess my feelings. Luciana had told us on our first session that we were all accountable for our words, thoughts, and actions, and that it would help us recognize our good and bad patterns, identify our challenges, build up our self-esteem, reduce our feelings of isolation and shame, and encourage us to be consistent in our eating habits. She described her group sessions as a way to foster accountability in our recovery. Same as journaling, meal tracking, or check-ins with a peer—someone who could encourage us while providing nonjudgmental support. To me, this person was Donovan.

I was aware that her reasoning made sense, it really did, but it wasn’t easy to put it into action and be fully vulnerable with ourselves and others.

And yet, Mason had succeeded every single time we bantered since we’d reconnected. Without knowing it, I was more honest with him than with any other person I knew.

The only thing I was keeping from him was my true feelings for him. If I wasn’t careful, soon even that wouldn’t remain a secret between us, and I’d blurt it all out at the worst possible moment.

If I couldn’t trust my subconscious, what was I supposed to do now?

17

I’m not saying that because I wanna get into your pants

I stopped counting the random catcalling after the fifth time. How did Cassidy and I think dressing as police officers for Halloween was a good idea? We were not even sexy cops, and yet, Lola’s customers appeared to believe it was still hot. To my friend’s credit, she had outdone herself with our costumes. When I’d shot my brother a picture earlier, he said we looked like the real deal. Coming from him, it was a compliment because he wasn’t Mr. Compliments most of the time.

“Can you lock me in jail tonight, sweetheart?” one guy with dark hair and a face so smug you wanted to punch him asked, stretching his arm to touch my back when I passed him. “Or perhaps you’re a bachelor party kind of stripper?

“Hands off,” I told him, moving to the right, further away from him, and placing my empty tray between us.

Lola’s was crowded tonight. Most people were probably regular customers, but with all the costumes, masks, and makeups going on, I could barely recognize anyone. The lights were dimmed, and battery-operated candles had been set on each table to give the place a bit of a spooky vibe. Most cocktails on the menu tonight were either blood-red, Frankenstein-green, or ink-black. George had told me earlier that Halloween was his wife’s favorite holiday, so he always felt like going big on that night.

Someone dressed as a sexy leopard waved at me, and when I closed in on her, I realized it was Jules. “Wow, I had no idea it was you,” I said. She was wearing a tiny animal print dress with a hood decorated with furry ears, and black mid-thigh leather boots that hid her prosthetic leg. She wore gloves with plastic claws, a full face of orange and black makeup, long fake lashes, and painted-on whiskers.

“I’ll have another of these?” She wiggled the almost-empty drink in her hand. “I think it’s called a… What was the name again?”

“Blood Bath?”

“Yes, Blood Bath. I really liked the gummy eyeballs on skewers. It was a nice touch.”

“George is a fan of spooky stuff. They really look real. It’s kinda disturbing.”

“Yep.”