Girl In The Mirror (Looking Glass Book 1)

by Elizabeth Reyes

  I told Mama about giving Ryan my number and where I knew him from. “He might be a little older than I am since his friend was twenty-eight and I’m assuming they’d be around the same age.”

  “Twenty-eight in guy years.” Mama chuckled. “You’re likely still much more mature than he is both emotionally and mentally. I know men in their forties you’re far more grounded than.”

  That made me giggle, and Mama and I spoke about some of the relationships she’d had over the years with men twice my age who weren’t nearly as mature as I was. By the time we got home, we were giggling again about Ryan, my “future husband.”

  Regardless of whether he ever called or if anything even happened between us, I suddenly had a fresh new perspective on life. I hadn’t been diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, but the cancer scare and meeting Ryan all around the same time were huge reminders of something else. I should appreciate my present more and be excited about being given a second chance at a future—not wallow in the past I’d lost. It was exactly what I vowed to do from that moment on.

  Chapter 5

  Not only did Ryan call, but to my surprise, he admitted to having gone into the ER a few times since his friend had been in there. He’d gone there looking for me, but each time I hadn’t been there—not surprising since I only ever worked the ER when I picked up an extra shift.

  “I didn’t ask anyone about you because I didn’t want anyone to think I was some kind of stalker.” He’d laughed when he told me during that first phone call. “For all I knew, you could be married with a family, even though I was hopeful because the night I was there I’d checked for a wedding ring and you weren’t wearing one. I had hoped I could chat with you a little more, but you were so busy. Then, after those people from that wreck were rushed in and you were called away, you never came back to my friend. But it’s why I got right down to asking about your relationship status when I finally did run into you again.”

  Ryan was a franchise owner. He owned and ran his own sporting goods store at the mall. He was even considering opening a second, since his first one was doing so well. He’d been an aspiring major league baseball player, a pitcher who even made it all the way to the minors. But after a few injuries and shoulder surgeries, he was done. He used the money they paid him to buy him out of his contract to buy his franchise.

  It wasn’t until our fourth official date that I told him the whole convoluted story about my lost past. By official, I mean the fourth time we made plans to hang out for an entire evening. But in between the official dates, we’d met for lunch and coffee several times, and we’d begun to speak on the phone on a regular basis. Even on the days I worked my twelve hour shifts I managed to sneak in a phone call.

  Ryan was all the things a girl could want in a man. He was funny, sexy, sweet, very good-looking with a successful business, and he was very goal-oriented. He wasn’t afraid to admit he was looking to settle down within the next three to four years. He had his future all mapped out, and Mama said that was a good thing.

  We’d only been dating for about five months when he told me about his five-year plan that had started two years prior. I’d been right about him being around his friend’s age. He was twenty-seven, so not much older than I since I was twenty-four. He said by the time he was thirty he wanted to own his dream home, be married with at least one kid on the way, if not already have one, with maybe another on the way. His first goal, after he realized his dream of being a big-league player wasn’t happening, was to take the money they bought him out with and start his own business. He’d already bought what he referred to as his starter home: a decent-sized three-bedroom two-bath home in a quiet suburb. That was two years ago, and his business was now doing so well he was looking to expand.

  Most would think I’d hit the jackpot. Ryan was perfect in every way. Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t help feeling like, just as it was with all the other guys I’d met since the accident, something was missing. It was beyond frustrating, but Mama insisted it was just that emotionally I was still feeling like something big in my life was missing because it was. My past was missing and so was what she referred to as my other half—Madeline.

  Then it happened again. Ryan had been very patient with me from the very beginning. I explained that while, technically, I didn’t remember if I was a virgin or not, emotionally this would be a first for me. Even if I had been intimate with anyone before the accident, which was possible because I was almost nineteen when it happened, I didn’t remember it. I didn’t tell him, but I had this nagging feeling that I should wait—that I wasn’t ready for this even though I was twenty-four now. But after five months of heavy petting and making out until we were both coming undone, I allowed things to move forward.

  We were at his house. Aside from being a goal-oriented businessman and exceptional athlete with a physique to match, Ryan was also good in the kitchen. I honestly didn’t have a single real thing to complain about. He’d prepared us a very fancy romantic three-course dinner that ended with wine and a cheese-and-fruit tray. It was all very impressive. The night felt extra special, even if it wasn’t the first time he’d prepared a romantic dinner for us. But it was almost like he felt it too. We were getting close. So, when the time came, I went with it.

  We’d begun to make out on the overstuffed lounger out on his back porch, when things got heavy. We’d gone as far as him feeling me up and sucking my breasts in the past, and we were there already. My button-up blouse was opened completely, giving him complete access to my breasts, and he took full advantage as I squirmed in delight at every suckle of my nipples. His hand traveled down to my thigh under my skirt and moved slowly upward. I spread my thighs, allowing for his hand to move between them, and it did. I felt him slow down and his breath accelerate when he realized I’d be letting him go further than he had before.

  My heart raced, and I was still unsure I was doing the right thing, but I had to stop thinking every little thing I felt was a memory trying to resurface. His hand moved up and in between my legs. Cautiously, his fingers grazed the thin fabric of my panties between my legs, making me tremble, and he moaned against my nipple.

  Pulling away from my breasts, he brought his lips to my mouth, staring at me as his fingers continued to slide up and down over the only thing keeping them from slipping inside me. He gazed into my eyes as his finger moved the fabric aside and touched my wet, slick flesh. I took a trembling breath as he closed his eyes and brought another finger inside my panties, sliding up and down my slit. Then he opened his eyes when his fingers stopped right at my soaked entrance. Our eyes locked as he slid one finger in and then the other, and I moaned with the pleasure of it.

  To my surprise, there was no discomfort. None whatsoever. There was nothing but arousal, and I swayed my hips and spread wider for him in reaction. It was all the invitation he needed. I wanted him so badly now, despite a tiny part inside me still protesting that I should wait longer.

  “Make love to me,” I said breathlessly.

  Pulling his fingers out of me suddenly, leaving me panting and needing his touch again, Ryan stood up and pulled me by the hand. “Not out here.”

  Apparently, he wasn’t going to make me ask more than once. We rushed to his bedroom where his bed was surrounded with lit candles. The bed had rose petals on it. Pleasantly surprised, I smiled, turning to him.

  He shrugged. “Wishful thinking. I had a feeling tonight would be the night.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle nervously, even as he sat me down on the bed and devoured my mouth again. He helped me back up slowly until I was all the way on the bed, slid my panties down, then surprised me. Instead of climbing over me or even undoing his zipper to start to undress, he spread my legs and brought his face down in between them. The touch of his tongue on my clit had me arching my back instantly.

  The instant I saw the flashes, I went stiff. My entire body continued to tremble even as my heart thudded for an altogether different reason. The sight of my hands on h
is bobbing head between my legs flashed in my head over and over again. A guttural moan escaped me, one I was certain Ryan would mistake for arousal. But it was me trying to hold back everything else the sight had me feeling.

  As he continued to lick and suck me, making me squirm and tremble in reaction, my mind raced. That ache in my heart was as profound as when I’d first laid eyes on the painting. But how could I stop him? I hadn’t even told him about the other symptoms I’d begun to suspect were memories yet. My situation was already a hard enough one for most to understand. I didn’t want him to know just what a nut case he was getting involved with. Despite the tears running down the sides of my face, the effect of what his tongue was doing to me didn’t stop my body’s natural reaction to it. After a few more laps of his tongue around and against my throbbing clit, I was a goner. I cried out as the waves of pleasure engulfed my entire body.

  My body was still trembling in pleasure as he made his way up my body and our eyes met. At first, the tears seemed to alarm him, but I closed my eyes and forced a smile.

  “That good, huh?”

  I opened my eyes, and now he was smiling too. “Time to make you mine, Margaret.”

  My heart walloped strangely, but I chalked it up to nerves about the impending event. I watched and something squeezed my heart as he pulled his shirt off and my eyes delighted in all his perfect upper body muscles. Ryan only called me Margaret when he was being particularly emphatic.

  Before I could put any more thought into the trigger, Ryan was completely naked, condom on, and over me, his lower body lying between my legs. “You ready?” he murmured, bringing his finger to the area between my legs still coming down from the amazing orgasm. “Yeah, you are,” he said with a smile then licked his finger. “Delicious.”

  Feeling the tip of his erection at my entrance, I tried not to stiffen, but I braced myself. “Tell me to stop if you feel any discomfort.”

  I nodded, bringing my hands over his big arms. Ryan slipped right in, and again to my surprise, there was no discomfort at all. I waited for another visual but nothing. At first, he slid in and out slowly, but it felt so damn good I swayed my hips, wanting him deeper and harder. So, he obliged with my body’s undeniable desire.

  It wasn’t until it was over that it happened again. He collapsed on top of me breathlessly. We lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch our breaths. Then he kissed my temple. “You’re mine now,” he whispered in my ear.

  It was instant. This time there was no visual flashing in my head. This time his words replayed in my head over and over. But only the first two.

  You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.

  The ache in my heart was brutal this time. I pushed Ryan away so abruptly, startling us both in the process.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, peering at me, searching my eyes.

  I shook my head and, without thinking, said the words , “You’re mine.”

  “I just meant you’re mine in every way now, Maggie,” he said, reaching out for me, but I recoiled and didn’t even know why. “If I’d known it’d upset you . . .”

  I shook my head for a panicked moment, feeling as I had way back when I first woke in the hospital. I wanted to say I wasn’t upset, that I wasn’t mad at him, but the words wouldn’t come to me. What was happening?

  “What is it, Maggie?” Ryan asked, his tone changing from apologetic to concerned.

  I shook my head, still unable to form the words, then scrambled off the bed. “I’m okay,” I finally said as the words finally came to me when I saw Ryan jump off the bed and rush to me.

  “I’m okay,” I said again a little calmer.

  Ryan searched my eyes, and I couldn’t blame him for staring at me like I was some crazy person. It was exactly what I felt like. “I won’t say it again.”

  “It’s not that,” I assured him, even though something deep inside told me it was exactly that. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, Ryan. My brain . . .” I shook my head. “The doctor said it’d be like this. I can’t explain it and all the things that’ve triggered such unexplainable impulsive reactions, but most of the time it’s completely random. There’s no rhyme or reason for why this happens. It just freaks me out a little.”

  We sat down and talked. I explained about the PTBIS. I told him more about the symptoms and triggers I’d experienced in the past, but I left a lot out. Before tonight, I’d already begun to think there was more than just randomness about the triggers. I was beginning to feel like the person I lost five years ago was still inside me, desperately trying to resurface. There was something in my past I couldn’t just let go of as Mama so often said I should try to, for my own sanity. How could I tell Ryan that seeing his head bobbing up and down between my legs and feeling the sensation of his tongue on me there had triggered something?

  After making love without the slightest bit of physical discomfort, I was convinced of one thing. Aside from the emotional discomfort I’d felt because of the visual hitting at the most inopportune moment, I’d enjoyed the feeling of him inside me. My body fell right into the rhythm of it as if it were a familiar feeling. Clearly, I was no virgin. So, what did that mean?

  I had no idea.

  The day after that first time Ryan and I made love, I had questions for Mama. I’d since established that neither Madeline nor I had ever had a boyfriend. When I asked, her answer had been straightforward enough.

  “Not any that I knew of anyway,” she’d added with a disapproving lift of a brow. “You were teenage girls, so I’m certain there were some boys in your past, but none that either of you shared about with me.”

  Now I had a different question, and I wasn’t even sure how to bring it up. So far, Mama had been easy enough to talk to. I’d told her all about Ryan and me, and she even knew about me wanting to take things slowly.

  “We consummated our relationship last night,” I said bluntly as I walked out onto the patio where Mama was working on her garden.

  Mama turned to me, lifting a curious brow. “How was it?”

  “Fine,” I said, lifting and dropping a shoulder. “Except I’m pretty sure I wasn’t a virgin.”

  She was quiet at first as if taking that in but remained unfazed. “Was he upset?” she asked with a frown.

  “No.” I shook my head, taking a seat on one of the chairs out there. “He didn’t even mention it. But something else almost ruined the night.”

  Gathering up from her knees, Mama sat on the small stool near where she’d been kneeling. “What do you mean?”

  “I had another one of those triggers, one of the worst ones yet.”

  I gulped, wondering if I should give her all the details, especially the first one. We were close and could talk about everything, but this had to be breaking some kind of mother daughter no-no. I’d certainly never want to know those details of her relationships and sexual encounters. But this was different. Then I reminded myself that Mama didn’t share the same enthusiasm or even curiosity about said triggers. She was convinced all the odd things I’d experienced thus far were what the doctor had specifically warned me of. And she hated how depressed it usually made me afterward, when nothing ever became of them.

  “When we were done, he said I was his now.”

  Mama eyed me again, seemingly unfazed, likely not wanting me to think I couldn’t be this open with her. “So, what happened?”

  “I sort of freaked and there were no flashes this time, Mama. It was the words that repeated themselves in my head. ‘You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.’”

  I shook my head, still remembering it so vividly and almost reliving the ache in my heart and even what almost felt like anger.

  “What do you mean you freaked out?”

  It wasn’t until I heard her speak and I snapped out of my trance that I noticed my mother finally appeared shaken.

  “I pushed him away,” I said, peering at her. “But it’s not like he meant he owns me. He apologized and—”

&nbs
p; “No, I know,” she said, shaking her head. “It just worried me that you said it was the worst one and it freaked you out. So, what happened after you pushed him away?”

  “I jumped out of bed,” I said as she hung on my every word. “Mama, I don’t know if I couldn’t or if it was just because I panicked, but I couldn’t come up with the words. I couldn’t talk for what felt like an eternity, until I finally spit out that I was okay. Then I explained about the symptoms. I’d never told him much about it because I didn’t want him to think me a freak, but after last night, I had no choice. What do you think it means? Why those words?”

  Shaking her head, she seemed to fall into her own trance. “I don’t know,” she whispered, staring out into nothing as if trying to figure it out. “The injury you sustained, Maggie, was very serious. For a while there, the doctors didn’t think you were going to make it. You have to figure there was extensive damage, maybe some that won’t ever heal entirely, even if you are able to live a normal life. You have to try and take the minor side effects—”

  “Minor side effects?” I said, annoyed and ready to go off on her.

  “I mean this is something you may have to continue to deal with for the rest of your life, Maggie,” she said, standing up.

  “You have no idea how terrifying it is for me not to understand what’s happening when these things happen, Mama.” I felt the tears well in my eyes. “This is not minor.”

  “Look,” she said, holding up her hand and speaking a little calmer. “When I found you, I thought for sure, just like your sister and Shelby, you were gone too. You were injured so badly. All I meant was that this is minor compared to how much worse it could’ve been, darling. The doctors weren’t sure if you were paralyzed or if you’d ever recover enough to live a normal life. But at least it’s not a seizure. Sure, it’s traumatic. That’s to be expected. But it’s something you can learn to deal with. We’ll look into some more kinds of therapy that might help you learn to cope with these . . . triggers in a way that’s less traumatic for you. Maybe we could join one of those support groups Dr. Patel told you about.”