Drastic Times (Book 3): Fierce Freedom

by Rock, R. A.

  She read, “The key to handling conflict in marriage is…”

  I tilted my head as if I was thinking about it.

  “Sparring?” she suggested.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the right answer,” I said. “Just sayin’. How about destroying a heavy bag? Should I write that?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, tapping her lips with the pencil.

  I needed to thank her for yesterday. For pulling me back from that dark place.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “You’re welcome.” She gave me one long look and then went back to reading and writing.

  I turned my eyes back to my paper and read the next question.

  11. How do you anticipate forgiveness operating within your marriage? Is forgiveness easy for you to offer? Is offering forgiveness to someone who has hurt you difficult for you?

  Well, that was getting to the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?

  We worked side by side in silence for about an hour before Yumi stretched and got up.

  “I have to move. I’m going to go for a walk before our appointment.”

  “Okay, see you there,” I said, not looking up as I thought about the question I was working on.

  18. What impact do you think your partnerʼs family experience will have on how he or she will show affection towards you?

  Having her parents abandon her as a toddler probably impacted our relationship considerably. I smiled a bit as I remembered how I used to like when she gave me shit because I knew that the tough words were just her way of showing she cared. She just didn’t know how to express her love for me.

  “Chad?” Her tone made me look up at her standing in the open doorway.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay with this? I mean, really okay with it?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I want to do this. I’m willing to try.”

  She pressed her lips together and gave a nod.

  “Okay then.”

  And she was gone.

  “AND SINCE WE’RE discussing the aspect of physical affection,” Bill said, stroking his beard and gazing down at the papers we had filled out — our homework. “You are both aware that good sex, which both partners consent to and from which both partners derive pleasure is an integral part of a healthy relationship, right?”

  I felt myself blushing to the roots of my hair.

  “An integral part?” Chad said and I could sense his amusement and discomfort through the soul bond as he struggled to keep a straight face.

  “Indeed,” Bill said, looking at something on his paper and not embarrassed in the least. “It’s physiological. As the body reaches orgasm certain brain chemicals are released that encourage bonding and connection to your partner.”

  “I see,” Chad said, picking at some invisible thread on the couch and not looking at me.

  “When was the last time you had intimate relations?”

  My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline.

  Chad cleared his throat.

  “Before Yumi lost the baby.”

  “I see,” Bill said, glancing back and forth between us. “And is there a problem in that department?”

  “No, no problem,” I said, quickly at the same time as Chad said, “I’m not sure that’s your business.”

  “It’s my business if that’s part of what’s causing the difficulties in your relationship. Now, one at a time. And be honest.”

  “There is absolutely no problem in that department,” I said, slowly and clearly. “Well, except that he won’t have sex with me.”

  Bill lifted his own eyebrows.

  “When we were here in the Survivor community last time,” I said, feeling hesitant to admit how much it had hurt me to have him refuse my offer. “I… made it clear that I wanted to… and he… turned me down.”

  Bill turned his head to look at Chad, waiting for him to speak.

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to,” Chad said, hastily. “I did. I do. Practically all the time.”

  I felt myself turning red again.

  Bill nodded and smiled, his bushy beard wagging.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I didn’t think that it was smart. Because if we were broken up then having sex would only make the pain worse. Would remind us of all we had lost. That connection. That closeness. I thought that it would drive me insane, remembering how it felt to hold her and knowing that I could never have her again.”

  “Ah, but there’s where your logic went wrong,” Bill said, pointing at Chad. It was a habit of his when someone made a good argument. “Intimate relations would help bring back that connection and closeness. It could help you both heal.”

  “Are you telling us that we should sleep together?” I said, kind of flabbergasted.

  “I wouldn’t presume to tell anyone such a thing,” Bill said with dignity. “But your homework this time is to discuss it and decide what’s holding you back from being intimate and whether it still makes sense to keep to those boundaries if you really want your marriage to work.”

  “That sounds like a really awkward conversation,” Chad said, and I noticed that his hand was clenched into a tight fist.

  “Well, have the talk while you do something you enjoy,” Bill suggested. “Like going for a walk or playing cards. What’s your favourite activity that you like to do together?”

  Chad glanced at me and I held back a laugh.

  “I don’t think we should tell him. He’ll think we’re weird,” Chad sent.

  Yeah, I was pretty sure sparring wasn’t the right answer in this case either.

  IT WAS AFTERNOON and we were doing our homework in the Survivor training dojo. I ducked under as Chad’s fist came at me, then popped up inside his guard and delivered a jab/punch combo to his solar plexus that had him exhaling sharply and rebounding back out of reach.

  “So, remember this isn’t just for fun,” he said, breathing more heavily than I expected.

  Were we getting out of shape?

  We needed to train more.

  “We’re supposed to be discussing our intimate relations while doing something we enjoy. That’s our homework,” he said, bouncing on his toes as he waited for me to attack again.

  “Okay,” I said, feinting a roundhouse kick — which he would expect because it was my favourite — but then let the leg go when he dropped his hands, throwing a left hook at his now exposed head. He weaved away from my fist and came at me with straightforward punches that were easy to block and I had a feeling his mind wasn’t on the sparring.

  “So?” I said, aiming a knife hand strike for the throat. “Discuss.”

  “Well, don’t you have anything to say?” he said, his block knocked my hand away but my fingertips still grazed his throat. My reaction was instantaneous and I couldn’t believe I was getting turned on by that brief contact.

  “I want to have sex with you,” I said, grabbing his arm as it came past. I yanked him down to knee him in the stomach.

  He let out an oof.

  “What else is there to discuss?” I said, letting him go and backing off. I wiped my forehead, rubbing my hand on my shorts to dry it. He held his stomach, trying to get his breath back.

  Then Chad frowned and brought up his guard again, motioning me to attack. I whipped out a wicked fast roundhouse kick, which he barely blocked. I used my momentum to follow it with a spinning roundhouse kick that made contact with his ribs.

  “God damn it, Tanaka,” he said, putting his hand to his side. “Go easy on me. I can hardly concentrate.”

  I dropped my guard.

  “You can’t concentrate? Why not?” I asked innocently, pretending to examine him for injuries.

  Damn the man was hot.

  He was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt he had borrowed from Kyle — who was smaller and less muscled — so the shirt clung to his chest in a very distracting way. And t
hose curls. Oh, those copper curls always got me. His blue eyes were zeroed in on me, making every molecule in my body dance.

  “Yumi.” It was a warning.

  I smirked at him.

  “I never even landed that hook. Your brains should still be functioning.”

  He stood up straight again, glaring at me and shaking his head.

  “My brains never had a chance. We’re supposed to be talking about having sex. And you know I get turned on watching you fight.”

  I did know that.

  “And you just told me that you want to sleep with me.”

  “Have sex with you,” I corrected. “No sleeping involved.”

  “And you’re wearing that…”

  Words seemed to fail him at this point and he gestured to my body, which I glanced down at. I had on a black sports bra I had borrowed from Kyle’s wife and black short shorts — a pretty standard outfit for a workout.

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  He let out a breath.

  “God, woman, I hardly have enough blood in my body left for normal functioning, never mind fighting.”

  I glanced at his sweat pants and detected signs of where the blood had gone.

  “This was your idea,” I pointed out.

  “It was not. Bill gave us the homework. He said to do something we enjoy together. Sparring is something we enjoy doing together.”

  I shrugged.

  “Want to work on the heavy bag?” I said. “There’s less chance of you getting hurt.”

  “Less chance,” he said, insulted.

  “Well, with the way you’re fighting,” I said, lifting one shoulder and letting it drop. “I wouldn’t put it past you to get hit by the bag when it swings back.”

  “You little…” He stepped in close to me and suddenly my breath hitched. I breathed in deeply and his scent filled my nose. Oh man, he smelled good. I felt dizzy from his proximity and I wanted him with every cell in my body.

  “Are we done discussing now?” I said, staring up into his eyes.

  STANDING IN THE Survivor training dojo, I felt the room spin. Yumi was killing me. I wanted her so badly, I thought I would die. I gazed down at her, noting the challenge in her eyes. I needed her so much.

  And this was even sanctioned by our marriage counsellor.

  I was breathing hard, even though we had stopped sparring a minute or two ago. And I knew it was from having her so near. From wanting her so much.

  “Let’s go back to our room and do homework,” she whispered and I felt her breath on my cheek as she leaned towards me.

  “It’ll change everything,” I pointed out, never looking away from her intense gaze.

  “Promise?”

  The walk back seemed endless until I got her into our room and shut the door, pushing her back against it with my body.

  “I love you,” I said, her soft breasts pressing against my chest.

  “And I love you,” she responded, pulling out the elastic that held her hair and undoing her braid till it spilled down over her shoulders. The sight made my head swim. Yumi with her hair down meant we were going to make love. I could barely breathe.

  “Here’s to brain chemicals,” she said, and then she pressed her lips to mine and we were done discussing.

  [If you like the sexy bits, click here to read the love scene.]

  I curled my body around Yumi’s, loving the feel of her soft skin against mine. I had no idea what time it was but this was the third time we had woken up throughout the night.

  Like she had said… no sleeping involved.

  I loved spooning and pulled her languid body tight against mine, her back to my front. I rested my hand on her flat stomach and breathed in the smell of her.

  This night had been fantastic.

  The best in a long time.

  And not just because I had finally got to release all that sexual tension. Something significant had shifted, though I didn’t know what precisely.

  “Do you think we can really do it, Chad?” Yumi said, her voice sounding sleepy as she started to drift off again.

  “If tonight isn’t proof that we really can do it, Yumi, then I don’t know what is.”

  She slapped my hip.

  “I meant infiltrating the castle.”

  “Oh, that,” I said, then sent, “Forgive me for thinking you meant something else.”

  She slapped me again and I sighed.

  “I don’t know. But you realize this isn’t going to fix everything, right?”

  “I know that,” she said. “But Bill told me that we’re making good progress. That he thinks that if we keep going to our daily sessions that we should be ready soon. That we’ll be… convincing.”

  I kissed her black hair.

  “I already feel better about pretending to be married to you,” I said.

  “You are married to me, remember Red?”

  “I know,” I said, and felt a surge of good feelings flood me when she said that. I love it when she calls me Red. And for the first time in a year, being married to Yumi didn’t mean pain.

  “Maybe someday you won’t have to pretend,” she said, turning to face me, her eyes serious.

  I let out a long breath and kissed her on the forehead.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Yumi.”

  “I know. I just wish our marriage was real again, that’s all. I miss you so much.”

  “Our marriage is real. It’s whatever we want it to be,” I said fiercely. “We decide. And I appreciate the help we’ve got from Bill. But in the end, it’s between us.”

  She nodded, blinking in surprise at my suddenly passionate tone.

  “Then I guess the question is,” she said, tracing patterns on my bare chest with her finger. “What do we want it to be?”

  THE NEXT morning, I sat on the stone bench in our room and gazed at Yumi as she dressed. God, she was beautiful. She pulled a clean shirt over her head and smiled to see me watching her.

  Picking up a brush, she stroked her hair over and over and then pulled it behind her and started to braid. I was mesmerized by the sight of her graceful hands plaiting her long black hair. I had never seen anything so lovely. When she was done, she came over to me and took my hands, pulling me to standing.

  “You look tired,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Somebody kept me up all night,” I told her with a half-smile, settling my hands on her hips where they seemed to belong.

  “Don’t smile at me like that, Dvorski, or we’ll never make it out of this room.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

  “Uh, uh.” She gave a shake of her pretty head. “We have an appointment.”

  I frowned.

  “Do we still have to do that?”

  This made her frown back.

  “Of course we do. Remember last night when you said that sex wasn’t going to fix everything?”

  “I said a lot of things last night, Tanaka,” I said, grinding my hips against hers. “So did you.”

  “Yes, well, I wasn’t talking about things of the oh god, oh god, oh god variety,” she said, her lips twitching as she fought a smile.

  “I was,” I said, capturing her lips and kissing her long, hard, and deep. Finally she pulled back.

  “Stop,” she said on a gasp, putting a hand on my chest. “Stop, or we really will miss our appointment. I’m about to melt into a puddle on the floor.”

  I felt a satisfied grin spread across my face.

  “Mission accomplished.”

  She shook her head and took my hand.

  “Let’s go. Bill will be waiting.”

  When we got to his office, he looked back and forth between the two of us, eyes wide. Then he gave us a genuinely happy smile.

  “Guess you two did your homework, eh?”

  A FEW minutes later, Yumi scowled at me.

  Well, the afterglow didn’t last very long, I thought trying to explain to Bi
ll what had happened in Cross Lake.

  “She told me that maybe we needed different things from each other than we did at the start of our relationship and that we needed to change what we give each other.”

  “Sounds good. So what’s the problem?” Bill said, interlacing his fingers on his desk in what I thought of as a quintessential therapist movement.

  “The problem is she needs me to let her go.”

  “And why is that a problem?”

  I frowned at the floor.

  “Because I need her. I want her. I love her. I don’t want to let her go.”

  “And you think that you can’t do those things and still let her go?” It wasn’t exactly a question.

  There was a silence and I sensed Yumi’s support coming down the soul bond. Bill stroked his beard.

  “Think of it this way,” he said. “Do you need to hold flowers tightly to appreciate them?”

  “No.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “In fact, if you hold them tightly you’ll actually destroy the very thing you’re trying to hold on to.”

  I nodded, getting it.

  “I think you’ve both been holding on tight to each other because you didn’t know any better way to keep your relationship from dying but in the process you were actually destroying it.”

  Yumi met my eyes and I saw regret there.

  “But you can both stop doing that now.”

  “How?” I said, feeling like an idiot. I’m a capable adult and I hated feeling like a child learning to ride a bike for the first time.

  Bill picked up a pen and held it out over the desk, palm down. Then he opened his hand and the pen fell out.

  “Just let go,” he said. “You already know how. Both of you need to stop holding on so tightly to each other. This love that you have isn’t going anywhere. You’re going to fix the things that are pushing you apart. And things will work. Have faith.”

  Just let go?

  Could it really be that easy?

  “But Bill, what about…?”

  I never got a chance to ask my question because at that moment, Shiv came bursting in looking nearly as disheveled as he had when he was working on the time travel bracelets in New Winnipeg and hadn’t slept in way too long.