by Roya Carmen
My spirits lift at his words. He believes in me. I’ve gotten so used to Michael always crushing my dreams. He was quite the salesman, going over the points of such and such and why my dream was illogical and unattainable. He’d crush my spirit in less than five minutes – it was impressive, the skill he had for breaking me apart.
“You really think I can do it?” I ask, still not sure. “There’s a cost, and I wouldn’t be able to pay for an apartment… I don’t have a car,” I ramble, listing all the doubts lodged in my head, eating away at me. I sound exactly like Michael.
“You can stay here as long as you want. You can use one of our cars. I can help you with tuition… it would be my pleasure—”
“No, I couldn’t let you do that, Flynn.”
“I insist. You could pay me off later when you get a job,” he suggests with a grin. “Or better yet, you could work at the barn, earn a wage, and it would look great on your resumé.”
I smile. “I’m not even quite comfortable with the horses yet.”
“You’re getting there,” he says. “And there’s always a lot of horse shit to shovel.”
I laugh. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He shoots me a playful smile. “You don’t get out enough.”
Damn, he’s sexy when he’s playful. He’s usually always so perfect, but when he lets his guard down, I just want to jump him.
His eyes linger on mine and he swallows hard as he jerks his gaze back to the papers in his folder. “Where are you and Michael at now? Have you been in touch with him since the birthday party?”
Apparently, fun time is over. He’s put on his therapist hat again. “No. He has no way to get in touch with me. I don’t have a phone. We shared an email address which I haven’t checked in forever.”
He scratches his head and writes something in his notes.
“Actually… I’ve wanted to talk to you about a recommendation for a lawyer,” I say. “I want to see one as soon as possible and file for divorce.”
His eyes light up at my words. “I can help you with that.” He doesn’t ask me why. He doesn’t try to talk me out of it. He knows I’m making the right decision.
He clears his throat. “You’ll need to fill out a divorce application and submit it at the courthouse, and pay the fee.”
“Oh…” I say. I hadn’t really thought of the logistics of all this. “H-how much is the fee?”
“About four or five hundred dollars.”
“Wow.”
“I can help you with that,” he offers.
I shake my head. “No… I have some money,” I tell him, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach – this is really happening.
“When he hit you…” he starts, sorrow tracing his features. He pauses before asking, “Did you ever take pictures or go to the police or hospital?”
My heart sinks as I shake my head. I know I should have. I know where he’s going with this. “No… I never did. Like I told you before, he never beat me… just a slap or a kick and that was all. There was no need to go to the police or hospital.”
“I understand.” He leans back in his chair. His brows knit together as he goes on. “You can base your case on the fact that he was physically and verbally abusive, but you’ll need a lawyer to fight your case, because you don’t have proof. It’s your word against his.”
My throat pricks and my eyes burns. “I know.”
He seems to sense my distress. He leans in over his desk. “You’ll do fine. We’ll get you a good lawyer and I’ll help as much as I can.”
“Thank you.”
He leans back in his chair again. “There’s also the assets,” he says. “It’s my understanding that your husband is very well off.”
“Yes… I think so. Unfortunately, I don’t know the details of his affairs too much.” I chide myself. I should have done my homework. I should have done my research and found out exactly how much he’s worth.
“That’s another reason you’ll need a good lawyer, Jade. I’m sure there’s a lot of money coming your way. Did you ever sign any kind of prenup?”
I shake my head again. This time, I’m happy. “No, never.”
“You’re entitled to half of his assets, barring what he has hidden in his corporation, and I’m sure that’s a lot. But he can only get away with so much.”
I nod, hopeful. Maybe I can get out of this after all. I can use the money to go to school and buy myself a little house and a small car. I can do this.
“How come you know so much about divorce proceedings?” I ask, curious.
He smiles. “I helped out a client once. And one of my late father’s best friends is a divorce lawyer. I’m a full-service therapist,” he jokes.
“Well, I’m glad.”
We sit in silence for another beat, just staring at each other with goofy grins.
“Speaking of… therapy,” he starts. “I… I don’t think I should be your therapist—”
“What?!” My heart sinks. He can’t do this. “You can’t… I need this…”
He grins. “Settle down, Jade. I just won’t be your official therapist. I can still help you as a friend,” he explains. “We should pick up where we left off and have another go at the obstacle course. I’m sure Buddy won’t be as fussy next time.”
“I’d like that.”
Another silence – there is so much tension in this room, I feel like it could blow at any second. “Why… why did you decide…” I want him to say the words. I want to know he feels the same way I do.
“Well, with what happened between us last week.” His gorgeous eyes darken and I almost melt in my seat. “The truth is… I can’t be your therapist and stay away from you,” he finally says, the words I want to hear. My breath catches and I can’t quite speak.
“I want to be with you, Jade,” he says softly. “And I can’t be with you if I’m your therapist.”
Oh god… “I want that too,” I say, my words a whisper.
I want that right now.
“And I can’t be with you until your divorce papers are officially registered.”
I fill with panic. “That could take forever!”
He registers the terror in my expression and settles me. “No, no… I’m not talking about your divorce being final. I have a feeling that will take a while. Michael will fight you tooth and nail. I’m talking about officially filing the application. You will be formally separated and heading toward divorce then. And you and I…”
A wonderful heat travels along my spine at the sound of his words. “You and I can…” I don’t say the words but we both know what they are. We’re both imagining the same thing – finally having the chance to explore each other with no inhibition, no limitations.
I want him so badly – I don’t know if I’ll have the patience to wait.
Jade
Come up to my loft at one o’clock. Wear comfy sweats and a t-shirt, and your hair up.
I’m intrigued and giddy with excitement – I feel like a high school girl with a crazy crush. What could he possibly have in mind? I’d be up for anything but we both know I haven’t filed the divorce papers yet.
As soon as he swings the door open, my jaw drops. He’s shirtless, and gray sweats hang deliciously off his hip bones. And he’s wearing that sexy bandana again. The sight of his gorgeous abs and the tattoos on his shoulders drive me wild. And to top it off, he has another tattoo on his hip bone, peaking out of his sweats – a small horseshoe.
Damn, boy.
He smiles widely as he welcomes me in. “Ready for a workout?”
I walk in, unsure. “Uh…” I’m ready for a workout all right, but not the kind he has in mind.
“You were great last time,” he starts and I follow him to the living area. “I thought a little kickboxing might be good for you… make you stronger, give you confidence. You were so amazing last time.”
I nod, still unsure. I’ve never seen myself as one of those bad-ass fierce women.
“And it works wonders to get your frustrations out,” he adds with a wink.
I bite my lip. “I believe it… I certainly have a lot of those.”
“I used to have anger issues as a teenager,” he says, “but then I took up boxing with Aiden and channeled my anger into that.”
“Really?! I can’t see it…” I tease. “You’re such a sweet soul.”
He grins widely – that smile of his does things to me. “I can be a bit of a hothead sometimes.”
I laugh. “I don’t believe it.”
He grins again. “Well, you know what they say about red heads.”
“True.”
We stand by the boxing bag hanging off the beams on the ceiling, and we just stare at each other for a beat.
“You look great, by the way,” he says.
I look down at my black yoga pants and striped t-shirt. “Not exactly UFC wear, but It’ll do.”
“Take off your socks,” he says. “I wouldn’t want you to slip.”
I slip off my pink socks, ready as ever.
I’m strong. I’m fierce.
He reaches into the basket tucked in the corner, and hands me the small black gloves. “We’ll start off with some jabs and crosses in the air.”
I struggle with the gloves a bit. He inches closer to me and I breathe in his scent. Damn, he smells good too. He helps me but as soon as his gaze meets mine, it skitters away cruelly. “Ready?!”
He jabs and crosses into the air and I mimic his actions.
Jab, jab, cross.
Jab, jab, cross.
Over and over again. It doesn’t take too long until I’m winded.
“You’re doing great. Hop around a bit. Always keep your fists in front of your face. You always protect your face.”
I listen like a good girl – I want to make him proud. “Like this?!”
He winks at me. “Perfect.”
We move to the bag and he shows me how to do an uppercut. “Put your whole body into it. You’re always working with all your weight. Your whole core goes into it, not just your arms.”
I imagine Michael, and with all the rage inside me, I throw a killer uppercut.
“Wow… look at her go,” he cheers. “Fierce.”
I giggle a little, breathless. And I keep punching.
Before too long, we take a water break. He hands me a cold water bottle. As I gulp down a long drink, I wipe the sweat off my forehead, and I catch him staring at me. I cock a brow in his direction and shoot him a sly smile.
Caught you, bad boy.
“Sorry… you just look so amazing in those yoga pants.”
I laugh, bashful. I’m very flattered. “Okay cowboy… let’s cool off and get back to it, shall we?”
He grins and grabs shin pads from the basket and throws them at me. “Here, put these on.”
I slip the pads on, ready to do a little kicking. I never thought this would be my kind of thing, but I’m loving every minute of it.
He demonstrates a kick in slow motion, and I really enjoy watching the movements of his tall frame – I could do this all day. “Now with the roundhouse kick, you want to swivel your hips, your whole body, and hit the bag with your shin and the front of your foot. Again, you want to put your whole body into it.”
I stand still, transfixed.
He grins. “Now your turn.”
I shake my head, afraid to make a fool of myself.
My first attempt is a fail, the second a little better, and by my tenth try or so, I’ve got it down pat. I kick the bag with all my might, sending it flying in all directions.
Completely spent, I latch onto the bag with both gloved hands. “That was exhausting.”
He laughs at my expense. “We’re almost done but there’s one more thing I want to see you try.”
Noooo…
“It’s a knee kick. I want you to hold the bag between your hands, and knee the bottom of it,” he explains, demonstrating as he speaks. “Pretend you’ve got some guy’s head in your hands, and you’re pulling that head right into your body, and you jam him with your knee nice and good. He won’t stand a chance.”
I laugh. “I doubt it.”
“You never know, Wonder Woman.”
I smile at the thought of myself as Wonder Woman – if only I could spin like her.
I grab the bag and give it my best shot. A hard knee in, another one, and another one.
I don’t know what gets into me, but I attack the shit out of that bag, hopping and switching knees and throwing my whole body into it, and all my frustrations too.
“You’re killing it,” he cheers. “You’re a natural.”
I practically fall to the ground, completely exhausted.
Flynn pats me on the head. “You did good.”
I smile up at him proudly.
I came here in the mood for sex, but now I’m just too physically spent to even think about getting busy. I grab my bottle of water and gulp it down.
“You’re small but you’ve got some spunk in you,” he teases. “I like that about you.”
I throw my empty bottle at him. “I’ll show you some spunk.”
The wide grin on his face is infectious. We’re both grinning from ear to ear and all I can think is…
Where have you been all my life?
The yellow dress is a little snug and I suddenly regret all those extra helpings of Amber’s amazing food. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, bashful. “I guess I need to be careful or I won’t fit into this on the big day.”
Amber’s brows knit together as she inches closer to me. “You look amazing… but is it too tight?” She turns to Carol, the seamstress, who is also a good friend of hers. “Can we let it out a little?”
Carol shrugs, clearly not too enthusiastic. “It’s a lot easier to take a dress in,” she points out with a pout.
“No… it’s fine,” I cut in. “Trust me… I’m the queen of diets, and I’ll be sure to fit into this dress. No need for alterations.”
Amber bites her lip and turns to Carol. “I’m sorry for the late notice, Carol. I’m usually more organized than this but this summer has been pretty busy with the Inn.”
Carol smiles. “It’s fine. We have three dresses and they look amazing,” she says, her gaze darting across the three of us: Aiden’s sister, Anna, Ruby, and myself.
I stare at our reflection and agree – the dresses are beautiful; a simple sleeveless bustier design with a soft multilayered skirt to the knee. And Amber was right – the colour really suits me. The contrast of my dark hair and pale skin is striking against the butter yellow.
“The dresses are great but a little summery for a November wedding,” Ruby points out. “I need to ask again… why yellow?”
Amber laughs. “You know how I love Calla lilies, and I thought yellow would look really nice with them, and it’s one of my favourite colours.”
Anna grins. “They’re pretty.”
I smile, thankful for this small moment of happiness. I’ve been on edge these past few days, and I can’t even breathe right. I’m always anticipating Michael. I know he’ll come for me again and I wonder what he’s up to. I wonder what he’ll do. And once I file the divorce papers, I know all hell will break loose, which is the reason I’ve been avoiding filing – I really don’t want to deal with the consequences.
Carol turns to me. “Why don’t you walk around the house a little, Jade… make sure you can move in it,” she says. “We can alter it if you think it will be too tight.”
“It should be fine,” I protest.
She frowns but a hint of a smile traces her lips. “Just go walk around a bit,” she presses.
I sigh and listen like a good girl. As I step out of Amber’s room, I feel the draft of the house on my legs and bare shoulders – we’ll need some kind of shawl to go with the dress or we’ll freeze to death. The wood steps are cold under my feet as I slowly make my way downstairs. I know exactly where I’m going.
I know he�
��s downstairs playing with Trevor. My brain is full of him; the way his grin grows wider every time he sees me, all the sweet things he says to me, the way my insides melt when those beautiful eyes look my way. I love the way he makes me feel… feverish.
I smile as I spot the living room – it’s a complete disaster. Trevor and Flynn have constructed quite the impressive blanket fort with a hodgepodge of colourful blankets and sofa cushions. Usually, the living room is always so polished and in order. It’s how Amber likes to keep it because it’s open to the guests. The family room is usually where Trevor gets to play, but on this cold November morning, the Inn is empty and we can play wherever we want.
I hear them laugh as I inch closer to the fort – I want to play too. I bite my lip at the thought of playing with Flynn – somewhere else, on a bed, buried under a whole different collection of blankets… naked.
I shake my head, reining myself in. I am out of control. I’m quiet as a mouse as I inch closer, and then in one swift move, I lift the corner of a blanket and yell, “Peekaboo.”
They both startle and laugh so hard. I can’t even remember the last time I laughed like this. Both of their faces are practically split in two, smiling wide. Flynn is absolutely delicious in dark jeans and a white knit long sleeve shirt.
His smile fades as he slowly takes me in. His eyes darken as they remain glued to me. Finally, he says, “I love that dress.”
I blush, suddenly shy. “It’s a little tight actually,” I confess as I carefully bend my body into a pretzel to join them in the fort, silently praying that the dress doesn’t rip.
He bites his lip “I think it’s perfect.”
“Is that your dress for my mommy’s wedding?” Trevor chimes in. “It’s pretty—”
“Hold up,” Flynn says. “Didn’t we say ‘no girls allowed in this fort’?”
I laugh. “Oh, is that right?”
“Well,” Trevor hesitates, turning to me. “It’s okay if you come in.”
I smile. “Why, thank you, Trevor,” I say as I tuck my legs in a ladylike fashion, and sit on the floor next to them. I tuck in the side of my skirt under my thigh. I’m surprisingly comfy.
