by S. Nelson
“Zoe, let me ask you this, and I know we’ve talked about this before, but now that some time has passed you might have another answer.” Dr. Rapport uncrossed her legs for the second time and placed both high-heeled feet on the ground, leaning forward with her hands in her lap, the lilt of her accent working to calm me. “Do you still blame him for what happened?”
During our initial sessions, I admitted that a part of me held Brick responsible for what happened, but with some clarity, I realized it was easier to blame him than myself, not that I was to blame either.
I’d slipped down the proverbial rabbit hole so many times in the past months, being bombarded with so many what-ifs that I could spend an eternity down there, digging myself back to the surface, only to fall again.
What if I’d never come home and gone to Roman’s birthday party?
What if I’d never met Brick?
What if I’d refused to relocate and had stayed in London?
What if I’d listened to him and stayed at Braylen’s until he got there?
And the worst one of all… what if I’d let them take Braylen instead of me? Even thinking that question now made me cringe for how awful it was.
The shame of it all turned into a slippery slope of self-hatred for a while, and I wouldn’t say I was healed and had seen the light, because I wasn’t and I hadn’t, yet. But I was slowly trudging my way there.
Many nights I’d lain in bed thinking about Brick and what he must’ve been going through when we were taken. Thinking about all the times his overprotectiveness was borderline suffocating when all he tried to do, all he ever tried to do was keep me safe. Then for him to hear, and to see what they’d done to me, see the evidence all over my body…. I refused to admit it during our time at the cabin, but I saw how broken he was, and I only made it worse by refusing to talk to him, pushing him away every time he tried to get closer and help me.
I didn’t want his help, though. I didn’t want to get better; I couldn’t even think about that then. I just wanted to drown in my grief and misery, and while there might’ve been a subconscious desire not to drag him down with me, I couldn’t handle the disappointment in his eyes, the pity that poured out of him when he looked at me.
“Zoe?”
I shook my head to knock away the rampant thoughts, trying to focus on Dr. Rapport and her question. “No,” I finally answered. “I don’t blame him for what happened. I blame the men that attacked me.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you stopped blaming yourself as well?”
Frustration weaved its way through my veins because my answer wasn’t a yes. “I’m getting there.”
“Good.” She leaned back in her seat, her eyes never wavering from me. Veering slightly off topic, she hit me with another question. “Where do you see yourself in six months?”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes after suffering a trauma, people can’t envision any kind of future for themselves. They remain stuck in the present, and the past. But once you can see ahead, no matter how small the timeframe, it could mean you’re progressing in working toward one.”
“I had a call with my boss about going back to work. She said I could start slow at first, work a few hours a day. There wouldn’t be any travel involved right away. I think that’s a good start.”
She looked pleased, her smile encouraging me more than she realized. “I agree.”
I felt lighter after our session, and it was the first time since the attack I was optimistic about what my future held. But as quickly as I rode the high, I crashed low because the one person I needed more than anyone else wasn’t with me, and after the way I treated him, completely shutting him out of my life after he told me he loved me, I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see me again.
As I lay in bed later that night, I scrolled through the pictures of us, ones I’d taken of us in bed when I thought he’d been sleeping. He always looked so peaceful when he was lost in dreamland, even with everything going on with the club during those last days.
My favorite one was of me cuddled into his side with my head on his chest. When I snapped the picture, he had one eye open and the laziest smirk on his devastatingly handsome face. I hadn’t realized he was awake until after I snapped the picture and looked at it. Then the jig was up. He kissed my cheek and whispered something filthy in my ear, in true Brick fashion, pinning me on my back seconds later and burying himself inside me. We had sleepy sex that morning, and it was wonderful.
As I darkened the screen of my phone, I smiled to myself, a realization dawning. It was the first time in a little over four months that a memory of us together brightened my heart, sending a tingle of excitement shooting through me at the possibilities of what could be.
But first, I had to get him to forgive me for pushing him away.
53
“What time?”
“Ten,” Jagger said, pulling the phone away from his mouth to yell to someone. I glanced at the clock above the sink. I had three hours to kill before I showed up at Linc’s fight tonight.
After the bout he threw for Griller, he’d gone back in the ring and had won every fight since, reclaiming his reputation—not that Linc cared much about his position. The guy was a machine in the ring, but his status in the underground fighting world couldn’t ever compare to the other parts of his life. His love for Maddie for one, not to mention his brotherhood in the club.
“I gotta go. Kena’s trying to tell me somethin’ and Evan is being a pain in the ass.” He chuckled, shouting something else before giving me his attention again. “I’ll text you the address.”
I’d only recently pulled myself out of the four-month funk I’d lost myself in. Last week, as a matter of fact. I decided to brush myself off and start trying to get back to normal, immersing myself in all things club related.
There was still a huge hole in my heart, and I missed Zoe an indescribable amount, but other than flying to London, only to be rejected again in person, I couldn’t make her see me or even talk to me. I’d ask Ryder every now and again how she was doing, and he’d tell me she seemed to be getting a little better each time he talked to her. For a guy who wanted to hurt me when I first pursued his daughter, the man had sympathy for me in droves. It wasn’t hidden in anything he said, but the affirming nods and the pats on the back spoke volumes.
An incoming text reminded me Kaden needed my help in the garage tomorrow because Tag had to take his mom for a checkup. So far, her prognosis was positive, which was a huge weight off the prospect’s back. I’d gotten to know him a bit more since giving him my blessing to date my cousin. We interacted more at the club, and he was always here at my place because Morgan was still staying with me, the new gallery keeping her in town longer than anticipated. Up until a week ago I wasn’t much fun to be around. I hadn’t been drunk all day every day, but it got bad there for a while.
My cell vibrated with another text. Ace needed me with him on Thursday at Indulge because he was interviewing for two open positions for security and wanted my input, seeing as how I used to do that job before I became a member of the Knights.
I typed out a quick reply to both messages and was on my way up the stairs to shower when I heard a car pull up outside. At first, I thought it was Morgan, as I’d lent her my truck earlier so she could run some errands, but then I remembered she dropped it back off, Tag picking her up a couple hours ago for dinner at his mom’s house.
Backtracking my way to the door, I peered outside and saw it was a white Jeep Cherokee. Months ago, I would’ve been on edge every minute, wondering who was showing up out of the blue, thinking it was an orchestrated hit from one of the Reapers. But things were different now, thankfully. No one had to constantly look over their shoulder while they went about their day-to-day lives.
The back door opened, and a woman stepped out, walking toward the back of the vehicle too quickly for me to see who it was. But when she started toward t
he house, there was no mistaking who it was.
Zoe.
Was my mind playing tricks on me?
Was she really here?
Coming to see me?
I rushed out onto the porch so fast I tripped over my feet, catching myself before I made more of a fool of myself. When she saw me, she stopped, looking up at me from the bottom step, her mass of red hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head, her bangs pushed to the side.
Zoe was known for her fashion sense, but as she stood before me in nothing more than a pair of white jeans and a plain V-neck green T-shirt, complete with a pair of white sneakers, I thought she’d never looked more beautiful.
“Hi.” Her soft voice melted my heart and all I wanted to do was demand she say it again.
“Hi,” I responded, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans, not knowing what else to say. All my hesitation came rushing back, and even though she’d come to see me, I didn’t want to do or say anything that would have her running away.
“I’m sorry to just drop in on you. Do you have a couple minutes?” She shifted her purse back onto her shoulder, her other hand resting on the handle of her suitcase.
“Of course.” When she walked up the first step, dragging her bag behind her, I snapped out of my daze and descended the steps to grab it for her.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for helping you, Zo.”
She smiled at me, and I all but crumpled to my knees, missing that look on her face. It seemed like forever since she looked at me like that, and I soaked it all up for as long as I could without looking like a wacko, grinning back at her in silence.
“Did you want to go inside or stay out here?” she asked, stepping onto the porch beside me.
Get it together, man.
“Sorry, I’m just in shock.” My eyes devoured the sight of her one more time before I swung my arm out to the side. “Let’s go inside. Do you want something to drink?” I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Some water would be nice.” She looked around my house as if she was seeing it for the first time, and I was thankful Morgan constantly tidied up, ever the neat freak.
I rushed to the kitchen and poured her a glass from the cooler, returning soon after, fearful she’d changed her mind and walked right back out the front door. But she was still here, standing next to the couch. The same couch we’d had sex on countless times. I couldn’t help the image that chose to barrel in, but I did feel a smidge guilty about it all the same.
“Here you go.” I handed her the glass, her finger resting over mine for a moment longer than necessary before she tipped the edge of the glass to her lips.
“I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here.” Her eyes dipped from mine, a nervous smile curving her lips.
“Kind of.”
She was seated on the couch before she continued speaking, taking a few more sips of her water. I didn’t know whether to keep standing or sit beside her, and she must’ve sensed my hesitation because she patted the cushion next to her.
Facing each other, all I wanted to do was drink in more of her beauty. Her face was clean of makeup, and upon being closer to her now, I could see the faint scar on her cheek. It looked a thousand times better than the last time I unfortunately saw it, and I was sure if she wanted to cover it, then it would disappear completely. But something told me she left it exposed on purpose, although I could be wrong.
“I wanted to see you and apologize for the way I treated you. I never meant to hurt you. You didn’t deserve that. I was so lost and terrified I’d never find my way back that I shut myself off from everyone.” Her emotion trickled from the corner of her eye and I instinctually cradled her cheek, wiping the tear away with my thumb. Before I could chastise myself and drop my arm, she nuzzled into my palm and closed her eyes. More tears followed but she smiled. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“No.” Her eyes popped open, but before she could move, both my hands were on her face, my finger running over the faint tip of her scar. “You have nothin’ to be forgiven for, baby.” She didn’t flinch at the term of endearment, which was a good thing. “I should’ve protected you and I failed.” She moved back and my hands fell to my lap.
“No, you didn’t.” I shook my head, but she covered my mouth with her hand when my lips parted to argue. “You tried to protect me, Brick, but I didn’t listen, and I should’ve. I just didn’t know.” Now it was her time to shake her head. “The only blame lies with those men who hurt me. Only them.” Her hand slowly slipped from my mouth, her thumb running over my bottom lip, her eyes dipping to watch as my tongue peeked out right before she dropped her arm. She stared at me for several beats and I racked my brain trying to figure out what she was gonna say next.
Did she only come here to apologize and then she’d be gone? Was she trying to assuage me of the guilt I felt every single day? Because she’d fail if that was her motive for coming here.
“Do you still love me?”
There was a spark in my chest but no hesitation in my response. “Always.”
Zoe curled her fingers around mine. “I love you too. I did even then, but I couldn’t stay.”
“I know.” And I did know. I understood soon after she left that she had to go, that staying here was too painful for her. That didn’t stop me from getting drunk off my ass every day, but I understood why she had to leave. “Are you going back to London?” I held my breath waiting for her to answer, and it was as if my life hung in the silence.
“No.”
A rush of air passed my lips. “Do you wanna be with me?”
“Yes.”
Another sigh of relief. “Is there a but in there somewhere?”
“No.”
A rush of emotions came over me, but I remained composed, and it was hard to maintain that illusion of calm. All I wanted to do was grab her and kiss her. I wanted to hug her tight and never let her go again. But I refrained because I realized she was still fragile, even though I saw a glimmer of life behind her beautiful eyes. The same light that drew me in in the beginning.
As I battled with myself on what to do or say next, Zoe moved from her seat on the couch and crawled into my lap, linking her arms around my neck, and snuggling into me, her lips resting against my neck.
“I feel safe in your arms,” she confessed. “I don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with you.”
“Are you sure?” She cuddled closer and it was all the response I needed. “Good, because I’m never letting you go again. From here on out, it’s just you and me.” I hooked my finger under her chin and raised her head until her eyes slid to mine.
There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment with incessant babbling. So instead, I did what came naturally, brushing my lips against hers, slowly, waiting for her reaction. I stole her breath for my own when she deepened the kiss, her tender exploration setting the pace, annihilating every morsel of doubt I had about our future together.
Epilogue
I barely made it to the bathroom before I dropped to my knees, bracing myself over the toilet and expelling the two pieces of toast I’d managed to get down not a half hour ago. I’d been sick for the past week, chalking up not feeling well to another round of bad luck, physically wise. The past year I’d gotten sick more times than I had in the past ten. Both my physician and my psychiatrist, Dr. Wilen, a colleague Dr. Rapport referred me to, said I was still experiencing stress, which made me more susceptible to illness.
I’d taken up meditation, yoga, and even jogging as a means to flush out any anxiety that built up, and while I felt better as the days flew by, and miles away from where I started after the attack, I still had a long journey in front of me, one I was optimistic about because I had the love and support of a wonderful man. Someone who had just walked into the bathroom. Luckily, I managed to get back on my feet. I didn’t want him to see me with my face buried in the toilet.
“Don’t te
ll me you’re sick again.” His tone was sympathetic and all I wanted to do was crawl up his large frame and nuzzle into him. Brick always knew how to make me feel better, offering me comfort whenever I needed it, no complaints, no hesitation.
Staring at my reflection, I looked a mess. A few strands of my hair were plastered to the side of my flushed cheeks, my stomach rolling for the second time in ten minutes. Pulling in controlled breaths, I released the air from my lungs slowly, hoping to calm the nausea. So far, so good.
Brick appeared behind me in the mirror, his eyes filled with concern as he gathered my mass of hair into his hands and moved the locks over my shoulder, the tickle of air on my neck making me feel better, not so overheated.
He turned me toward him and rested the back of his hand against my forehead. “You’re warm.”
“Really?” I asked sarcastically, smiling when he frowned at my snippiness. “Sorry. I don’t feel good, and if this is how it starts, I’m in for a treat.”
“How what starts?” Brick tilted his head, moving his hand from my forehead to my cheek, checking my temperature again even though he already knew I didn’t feel well. He gathered me in his arms and held me close, kissing the top of my head. “How what starts?” he repeated, and it was then I realized my verbal blunder.
The motion of his hands gliding over my back soothed me, and I didn’t want it to end, so I held my response on the tip of my tongue, swallowing repeatedly and taking deep breaths to calm another wave of nausea.
“Zoe?”
“Hmmm...” I murmured against his chest; the subtle hint of his aftershave mixed with the leather of his cut doing things to my awakening libido. It had taken a couple months after I came back to him for us to move to the next step of us being intimate again, but once we were, a piece of me that I thought had died had sprung back to life. Since then, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other, much like it was in the beginning, our attraction toward each other stronger every day.
