Roman steers the truck into a parking space and turns to me with wild-eyed concern he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide. “Here we are.”
Glancing at the nondescript building, I swallow hard. My thoughts and emotions are all over the place and have been since I picked up the phone and made the appointment the week before. It all feels so incredibly surreal, facing my past head-on after all these years. I do have my doubts this will work, but I’m finally willing to take a chance. Finally willing to take the leap of faith that’s evaded me all my life.
My eyes pinch closed as I attempt to still the raucous nausea that’s been eating at me all morning. I wish I could say why I’m so terrified, so damn uncertain. Stripping off all those protective layers I’ve worn so well over the years won’t be easy. But for the first time in my life I’m willing to at least take a chance and give it a go. I’m tired of living like this, fighting my ghosts each night in my sleep, always avoiding getting too close to people who care about me. I want the freedom to open my heart and find my true happiness. Until I come clean with what’s happened to me, I’ll never be able to do that.
This is all Jace’s fault. Until he came along, I never wanted anything to change. I was happy plugging along in my simple life, working like a dog and always seeing those around me through a thick, protective lens. When he wandered into my life and effectively turned it upside down, I’d never known what it could be like to want—to really want, body and soul. Not the physical thing that I experienced on a monumental level in the fitness room that night, but that ingrained need to believe in something and know you deserve it.
I’m not fully convinced I deserve Jace. Sometimes he’s just too understanding and too darn patient. But isn’t that part of why I care about him so much? Aren’t those reasons enough to want to make a positive change in my life?
I wish I had the answers, but I don’t. I’m still reeling from what happened between us and from his heartfelt declaration that’s pushed me to where I am right at this moment. Hearing that Jace is in love with me has upended all that I’ve tried so hard to right since the night I walked away from him. He could have easily moved on and found some other woman who wasn’t afraid of her own shadow. Someone worthy of him and willing to open her heart. Instead, he’s hung on waiting patiently for me to get my shit together. Waiting for me to realize that the only thing I need is him standing by my side.
My heart jumps when I consider how truly monumental that night between us was. Of course, the sex was off the charts like it’s always been; Jace is a master when it comes to making my body respond to his in such a complete way. He uses that pretty face and that hot body of his to draw me in then says a few mouthwatering one-liners and bingo … panties on the floor. I made it so damn easy for him.
I don’t regret a thing.
The corners of my mouth pull up into a smile. There’s no way I can walk away from him now. I knew we had a rare connection from the start when he fought so hard to try to get me to trust him and open up. When I walked out that night, pissed off and exhausted from constantly fighting with myself over what I need and what I deserve, I knew then that I’d never be free of him. He’s found a way to jump over the walls I’ve erected. He’s found a way to know exactly when I need him to be strong and when I simply need him to shut up and hold me.
There are times I’m convinced Jace knows me better than I know myself. He’s always one step ahead. He knew that by telling Roman the truth things would finally begin to spiral in the direction to where I am right now: finally reaching out and seeking help for what haunts me most. He somehow knew that by taking a step back and not pushing me it would lead me right back to him. He’s either incredibly stupid or just that perfect.
“You okay, Bella?”
I turn my head to look at my brother. He’s sacrificed so much for me my entire life but never more than when he showed up at my place, tormented by what he’d learned. He’s always been the only one of us who has ever really been free with his emotions. Something I’ve envied a time or two, believe it or not. As evidenced that night, he has no problem showing emotions when he’s deeply affected by something. Yet he still manages to remain completely male and secure with who he is.
With a nod, I reply, “I’m fine. Just sorting stuff out in my head.”
He takes my hand in his but keeps his eyes forward. “I know this is going to be hard on you. But it’s time.” Easy for him to say. He’s not the one looking to split himself wide open and have his bloody guts poured out on the floor.
Here’s something I’ve realized: Roman will never, ever push me to do something I’m not ready for. If it means driving here once a week for a year, he’ll do just that in order to ensure that when I finally walk through the front door it’s with confidence, that I know without a doubt what I’m doing is for the best.
I suppose I’ll always have concerns about seeking treatment. I mean, is it really a good thing to want to lay all your mistakes down for some stranger to dissect? Hell if I know. What I do know is that for the first time in a decade, I want something more, something bigger than the closed off life I’ve created for myself. I want to live a life free of doubts, free of fear. A life where I wake up every day and smile. A life I live, rather than a life I settle for. Once I walk through those doors, I might finally be able to have hope for the future. More than anything, I might actually be able to tell Jace I feel exactly the same way.
Rolling my phone between my hands, I consider reaching out to him just to say hello. I need that connection more than I need to breathe in and out. I need one word, one indication, that he’s with me even though he has no idea what I’m about to do.
With one more glance at the building in front of me, I quickly type out a text to him and hit send. Less than a minute later my phone pings.
Hello, beautiful. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop.
Grinning, I quickly type a response then stuff the phone in my purse and take a deep breath. I can do this. I. Can. Do. This.
Reaching for the door handle, I glance over at my brother. “I’m gonna go in.”
He smiles and nods, looking proud and grateful. “Okay, I’ll be right here. If you change your mind and want me to go in with you, just call.” He holds up his phone to reiterate his promise. “I’m so proud of you, Bella.” He squeezes my hand one last time. “Jace would be proud of you too.”
My own smile is shaky, the nerves doing their best to overtake me. “I know you are. I know he is too. That’s the only reason I’m not completely losing my shit right now.”
Roman chuckles and points to the building. “This place right here is your ticket to freedom. Remember that and you’ll do just fine.”
My eyes skim over the sign by the walkway. Victim’s Services is splayed proudly in bold, black letters. I’ve spent so many years believing I was responsible for what happened, I rarely took a moment to consider that I am indeed a victim. Sure, I made some less than fantastic decisions way back then, but I was a shy, naïve, young woman who’d been sheltered by her family her entire life. Going away to college was liberating. It was also terrifying as hell. Making friends was difficult and getting boys to notice me wasn’t easy either. I took a chance going to that party, wandered there of my own accord, which is partly why I’ve assumed so much responsibility for it all. I went there willingly. I drank too much because it was my choice, not because someone pressured me or poured the alcohol down my throat. No one forced me to party hard and certainly no one forced me to go upstairs.
My choices disintegrated quickly after that. Though I still can’t remember every detail, I do remember enough. My skin crawls when I recall the look in his eyes as he held me down and forced his way inside me. It was a look free of remorse, an almost exuberant look of triumph. And the worst part is that I was so in and out of consciousness that when he came back for more a second time, I could only lie there without a fight. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t violent with me, because he was—even more so slapping me across the face and holding me so tight he left marks on my skin.
The bruises on the outside have faded, but the wounds on the inside have remained unhealed, bloody, and gaping. Admitting I am a victim is not a bad thing, I realize, as some of the nerves slide away and a burst of confidence shoots through me. But am I really a victim or am I survivor? I’ve weathered the storm and now I’m working hard to understand and believe that I deserve everything good life has to give. If that is indeed true, than being a victim … being a survivor is not something I should hide in shame of but rather something I should accept with open arms and rise above.
“Love you, baby sister,” Roman states quietly.
Stepping down out of the truck, I sling my purse over my shoulder and lock my eyes on his. “I love you too, Roman.” One more deep breath for strength. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“You’ve got this.”
While that’s probably debatable at this point, I do have his love and thankfully Jace’s too. That will go a long way in pushing me forward one step at a time. With each one of those steps up onto the sidewalk then down the path toward the front door, I can feel the past sliding away a little bit at a time. And when I finally make it to the front door, I feel like I’ve already slayed some of those dragons of the past. This is progress. Every tiny baby step forward is movement forward toward happiness.
Taking one final glance over my shoulder at my brother, I grip the handle and step inside to where my future awaits.