Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I lost myself in him. By the end, I wasn’t even aware of my surroundings. After the fog cleared, I realised he could’ve done anything to me and I wouldn’t have been prepared.”
Karen does that judgy thing where she tries to hide her reaction by practically swallowing her lips. “In some big ways, you’ve made progress, and that can’t be dismissed. But if you’re not comfortable with the intimate parts, you really need to talk to him about that. Did you talk to him about it?”
I look away, sheepish. “No. I might’ve run away.”
“Of course, you did. Okay, your homework for today is to go home and tell him why you ran away. Then, I suggest you take a step back and assess what you both want. Because even though Brody could be a good thing for you, it could also be detrimental if you don’t work through your problems together. You can’t hold on to the hope that he can read your mind and automatically know what you’re dealing with.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“I’ll see you back here on Monday to see how things go.”
“There you are being pervy again.”
“I’m suggesting you don’t go there again. Not until you communicate first. But if you think you’re truly ready for this step, I could always refer you to a sex therapist. I’ve studied some units in that field, but someone who specialises could really help you.”
I look up at the roof. “Just what you want to tell a guy you’ve hooked up with once. ‘Hey, wanna go to sex therapy?’”
“Think about it.”
Thanks to her, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop thinking about it.
* * *
When the key sounds in the lock of the front door, I tense.
I have Meatball in my lap, and we’re on my bed, but I’ve left my bedroom door open a crack as an invitation for Brody.
I’ve been scrolling through news articles on my phone, making sure to not click on trigger headlines, but I haven’t been able to focus. I haven’t focused on anything but the thought of telling Brody the truth once he comes home.
I was expecting Karen to tell me what I have with Brody is wrong—that I’m being self-destructive and co-dependent again. I never expected her to say it could be a good way for my mind to heal and forget the horror Kyle left me with.
But I can’t come out and say that to him. That’d be way too much pressure. I can’t put my recovery on his shoulders.
Karen’s right in saying we need to communicate, but I wish she’d give me the words I have to say, because right now I’ve got nothing, and his footsteps are getting closer.
There’s a tentative knock, and I let out a raspy “All good.”
Whether time slows down or Brody’s unsure, the door moves so fucking slowly it might take a year before it opens.
Brody stands there, his fists clenched by his sides and his intimidating figure taking up most of the doorway.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
His jaw moves side to side as if he’s gritting his teeth.
I should be scared, because he hasn’t uttered a word. He hasn’t even blinked.
He’s showing huge signs of aggressive behaviour, but for some reason, it’s not triggering me.
“I’m trying really hard not to lose my shit right now,” Brody says, “because I don’t want to scare you, but this morning? Not okay.”
“I’m sor—”
“No, let me get this out.”
Again, I should be scared, but I’m not.
Something about today’s therapy session clicked. When Karen said I’m trying to replace the bad memories with happy ones, I realised I was also replacing Kyle’s bad behaviour with Brody’s possible bad behaviour, thinking they were one and the same.
Kyle broke me in more ways than I ever knew it possible for someone to break. In my mind, men like him in physical appearance and demeanour immediately became homicidal crazies—or at least, all of them had the potential to become one. Lumping them all together is exactly what racists and bigots do with minority groups. One bad apple doesn’t turn the whole group sour.
I’m under no delusion that this revelation means I’m cured or even that this feeling will last, but it’s keeping me calm in the moment, so I’m going to hold on to it.
If Brody were to raise his hand or make a fast movement, I might lose it, but he’s allowed to be upset with me. I deserve it. What I did this morning was shitty, I know that, and I want to make it right.
Brody takes a deep breath. “I know it’s hard for you to believe that I will never, ever hurt you, but it’s difficult to know where your head is at when you run away from me. I don’t know if I’ve fucked up. I don’t know if you’re okay. Reed and Law were acting weird—not telling me where you were—and I’ve been worried sick about you. Yet, here you are, seemingly uncaring about how I’ve fucking been all day.”