“Wonderful! How did you feel during? Any flashbacks?”
Cyn shrugged one shoulder. “Some, but nothing that sent me reeling. Mostly, of Shane struggling with Carlos and how scared I was he was going to get hurt.”
“Did you share the memories with Angie and Maiya when they came up?”
“Yes.” Cyn brushed her hair out of her eyes. Two weeks ago, Cyn never would’ve been able to share what was going on in her mind. But worse, a little over three weeks ago, she would’ve shoved the thoughts away faster than they’d surfaced, effectively convincing herself they’d not surfaced at all. It was a very dark emotional place she’d held herself in, and Cyn was beyond grateful she was no longer there.
“And they were supportive I assume?”
“Always. And after, we talked about it—which I actually managed to do without crying. Amazing, right?” Jean nodded and Cyn continued. “After we talked, in true Angie form, she steered the convo to the redecorating Shane had done to try and make me feel better in the room. Of course, then I broke down and cried.”
Jean leaned forward. “Tell me about that.”
Cyn blew out a breath. “Well, you already know how he redid the room for me, and how I was just the biggest bitch in the world to him about it.”
“But you also apologized.”
“Yeah, but still. It was still shitty.”
“Cynthia, it’s very important that you not beat yourself up. Backsliding isn’t helpful in this process. It’s okay to feel remorse for your actions, and I’ll remind you again, you apologized to him that night, if I remember correctly.”
Cyn looked down at her hands. “I guess I just feel bad. About everything with him.”
“Have you thought about contacting him?”
“Are you kidding? I think about it every day. But you said I shouldn’t yet. Are you saying now I should?”
Jean took a sip of her water. “I think you’ve made excellent progress and that we’ve worked through much of the trauma you’d been suppressing. Your anger appears to have subsided and you’ve faced the ultimate issue, which was the hurt that Carlos caused emotionally, more than physically.”
“Jean, that was about as clear as black paint.”
That got a laugh out of the woman. “In the beginning when we first started meeting, I felt it was necessary to put the Shane situation on the back burner in order to address the more critical issues. At this point, what is it that you feel is best to do? This is not a decision I can or will make for you.”
“Okay then.” Cyn licked her lips. “What would you do?”
“Nice try.” Jean smiled again, her pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “How about you tell me what’s stopping you from contacting him?”
Cyn frowned. “You always ask the hard questions.”
“Yes, well. That’s what you pay me for.”
“And your dry humor cracks me up.” With a grin in place, Cyn rolled her eyes. “I guess I’m afraid he won’t speak to me. I mean, he probably hates me. I know I’d hate me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I treated him like shit. Hell, I treated him the way all my exes treated me, Jean. And that’s just gross. The fact that I could be that way? Ugh, yeah, gross.” Cyn scrunched up her face and then frowned.
“There were mitigating circumstances.”
Cyn shook her head and looked away. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t get a free pass because I couldn’t handle my shit. I should’ve been able to handle my shit. And I didn’t. I totally failed. And I just spread that shit all over everyone, Shane especially.”
“I see.” Jean pursed her lips. “Sounds like you have some forgiving to do.”
“Forgiving? I’m barely grasping the concept of forgiving Carlos—not quite there yet—but Shane didn’t do anything that needs forgiving.”
“You forgot someone on that list, Cyn.”
What the hell was she talking about? Cyn was completely confused. Shane didn’t need forgiving. Neither did anyone else she was close to. Cyn had been the one doing all the damage. She’d been lashing out at everyone. Jean wasn’t making any sense and frustration churned in Cyn’s belly—not the hot anger she’d felt constantly before therapy, thank God, just normal frustration. “Who on earth do you feel needs forgiving?”
“You need to forgive yourself, Cynthia.”
What on earth? “How can I…” Cyn licked her lips and shifted in her seat. “Why would I…” She crossed her arms. Forgive myself? How the hell… Shock bounced around Cyn’s brain like a Ping Pong ball, triggering a mind-blowing bomb.
Jean took a sip of her water and then continued. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Shock. Confusion. And a whole lot of what the fuck… If that’s even a feeling. Sure feels like one though.”
“It qualifies.” Jean shifted and uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “I take it self-forgiveness is a new concept for you.”
Cyn clenched her hands as her stomach twisted into a knot. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
“I think it applies to the trauma with Carlos too. We’ve talked in depth about the fact that you blamed yourself for what happened. Forgiving yourself is necessary where that matter is concerned too.”
Cyn stared in silence across the room at the gray-haired, frumpy woman who she’d been vomiting her guts up to for the last three weeks. Jean was smart and made sense, even though sometimes that was really annoying, but so far the woman had been right about everything she’d suggested. Maybe she was right about this too.
Jean glanced at her watch. “It seems time’s up for today. How about you give it some thought and we’ll talk more about it on Thursday when we meet again.”
Grateful they were done for the day, relief washed through Cyn and she blew out a breath. “Okay, see you Thursday.”
Cyn pondered the thought as she made her way out of the building to her Wrangler. She wasn’t sure if she could forgive herself for what happened with Carlos, and as far as Shane was concerned? There just was no way she could ever forgive herself for hurting him like she did. Dammit, she was making such good progress too.
With a heavy heart, and deep in thought, Cyn headed for home. Would Angie and Maiya agree with Jean? She just couldn’t see it. Maybe talking to her mother about it was a better option. Dammit. Cyn wanted to get better. She was definitely feeling better, or at least had been, until today’s session. Now she felt like shit all over again. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t deserve forgiveness. And anyone who thought she did might just be as nuts as she was.
* * * * *
Cyn bit into the strawberry pastry her mother had made and then sipped her coffee. “She says I need to forgive myself, Mom.”
“Well, you do.” Her mother took the seat to Cyn’s right. “How’s the pastry? Moist enough?”
“It’s freaking delish. You’re not supposed to agree with her. You’re supposed to tell me she’s nuts.”
Her mother looked at her with one raised brow as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a sip.
Cyn cringed. “I don’t like that look.”
“If I told you that I didn’t agree with her or that she was nuts, I’d be lying. And that’s something I don’t do to my kids.” Her mother set her cup down. “Let me ask you something.”
Cyn sighed and rested her arms on the table. “Sure.”
“Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself enough?”
Cyn shot straight in her seat. “What?” That was not the question she expected, yet Cyn should’ve known because it was exactly the kind of direct-hit question her mother would ask. Damn. Shit. Fuck. Fucking hell! Tears stung Cyn’s eyes and she blinked, trying to force them back. She hadn’t looked at her actions as punishing herself. Like, in any way. And frankly she wasn’t sure how many more realizations she could handle in one da
y. A tear escaped, slipping down her cheek, and Cyn wiped it away. “Mom, I don’t think I realized I was punishing myself.”
Her mom leaned over and pulled Cyn into an embrace. “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through all of this. I absolutely cannot stand watching any one of my kids struggle or hurt. If I could take this away from you right now, I would.” Her mother pulled back and cupped Cyn’s face in her palms. “But I also know that, as hard as all of this has been, it’s your journey, and when you get to the end of it, you’re going to be stronger than you ever imagined.”
Cyn closed her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. “This sucks. Forgiving myself feels like some kind of cop-out or get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Yes, it sucks. And no, it’s not a cop-out or free ride—farthest thing from it actually. Cyn, everything happens for a reason and you may not know what that reason is now, but eventually, you will.”
“What if I can’t do it?” Cyn sniffled.
Her mother sat back. “What if you can?”
“What if Shane never forgives me?”
“What if he does?”
“Ugh, Mom, that’s not helping.”
Her mother laughed. “I’m totally helping. You just can’t see that yet either. I love you, Cynthia, and I know you’re going to figure this out.”
“’Kay.” Cyn’s voice was clogged with tears. She leaned forward and her mother pulled her into another hug. She cried a little longer until the tears finally ebbed. After blowing her nose, she finished the delicious strawberry pastry her mother had made and drank her coffee.
They made small talk for the remainder of Cyn’s visit, until finally Cyn felt a little more settled in her mind. After she left and arrived home, her mother’s words stayed with her throughout the remainder of the night and into the next morning.
The things she’d said made sense, in a “trust in things bigger than you” kind of way. They’d been raised Catholic, but as they’d gotten older, or rather, as her mother had aged, her views had turned in more of a spiritual direction rather than a religious one. Her parents still went to church every weekend, but their outlook on God and religion had changed a lot since when Cyn and her siblings were kids. It was cool and a whole lot more focused on love and comfort, rather than sin and salvation…
Cyn supposed forgiveness was born from love. Love of others, and love of self. Forgiving others didn’t have much to do with the person who did the harming, but more so with the person who’d been harmed, setting them free.
Maybe it was possible if Cyn forgave herself, she’d be set free too. And maybe, just maybe Shane could forgive her too.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Cyn stretched out on the couch in her living room, television turned to the news. She wasn’t watching, she was thinking about Shane and wondering how he was doing. Was he okay? Was he hurting? Was he thinking of her too or did he just hate her guts…then again, like Angie said, hate and love—similar beasts.
She’d had eight sessions with the therapist, and Cyn was beyond glad she’d done it. Shane had been right the whole time. Cyn had needed the help, needed to talk through what had happened to her with a professional. She just wished it hadn’t taken her so long to finally get there and accept the help she’d so desperately needed. But there wasn’t anything she could do about that now. She’d been a little—or maybe a lot—nuts, and caught in a web threaded by anger, fear and denial.
Cyn glanced around the room. Shane had done such a wonderfully sweet thing for her and, to be honest, she loved the paint and the new rug and tables. And Cyn realized, she didn’t hate the room anymore. She loved it. But for two very specific reasons: Cyn finally felt the stranglehold that the attack by Carlos had on her had released. And also because Shane had made the room beautiful for her.
Up until then, Cyn had not allowed herself to contact Shane. But she’d spent the last two sessions with the therapist talking about how she’d pushed him away. And more importantly, why. All of it led back to the attack and beyond to Cyn’s already fragile self-esteem.
She’d already been questioning her judgment regarding men, and when Carlos did what he did, what little faith she had in herself was just blown to bits. Every time she’d fought with Shane, it was like a demon had risen inside her, but also each time she’d tried to push him away, it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him, but because she didn’t trust herself.
Shane didn’t deserve any of that shit. And when Angie said Shane deserved a medal as well as be considered for sainthood, she was right. More than right. Shane deserved so much better than Cyn had given him. He deserved to be loved and cherished and cared for. Daily.
Cyn may not have the best judgment when it came to men, but her judgment regarding Shane had always been solid and true. Now, she just had to figure out if he’d ever be willing to forgive her. But even if he did, would he ever want her back? God, she hoped so.
Cyn eyed her cell on the coffee table. Should she call him directly or should she call Joey and try to get a feel of the situation? Shit… Cyn picked up the phone and scrolled through her contacts. Finding the one she wanted, she hit the Call button.
“Hey there, chica! How’s it going?”
“Maiya? Can I come over? I need to talk.”
“Yep. See you in twenty.”
“Thanks.” Cyn pulled the phone from her ear and went in search of her shoes. She needed a plan and Maiya would know exactly how to help her.
* * * * *
Cyn sat in one of the large leather chairs in Maiya and Ryan’s formal living room. Not much had changed with the decor in the room, but Cyn could definitely see the little touches of Maiya around the space now. Ryan had gotten rid of all the furniture in the family room in favor of Maiya’s set, claiming hers was nicer. In Cyn’s opinion, both sets of furniture were nice, but she knew it was Ryan’s way of making his home his and Maiya’s now.
Her brother was such good man, like Shane.
The ache that’d taken up residence in Cyn’s chest doubled and she rubbed her sternum. God almighty she missed him. More than she’d ever missed anyone in her life.
Maiya came rushing in from the kitchen with her hair all wild and flowing around her face and a bottle of beer in each hand. “So, I called Angie.”
Cyn took the offered bottle. “She’s coming?” She sipped the beer. “You think that’s necessary?”
“Yep. Why not, right? Between the three of us, we should be able to figure out your next move.” Maiya took a seat on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her.
“This is stupid. I should just call him. But I’m fucking terrified that he’s going to hang up on me.”
The front door opened and in came Angie. She set her purse on the floor next to one of the tables. “Okay, got here as fast as I could. I was in the middle of a hair appointment.”
“You are so high maintenance.” Maiya tilted her bottle back.
“Back at ya!” Angie pulled her laptop from her purse and set it on the couch.
“Your hair does look cute.” Maiya smiled. “New color?”
Angie opened the laptop. “Thanks, just darkened it a bit. Added some purple highlights too.”
“Wild child.” Cyn rolled her eyes and glanced at Maiya.
Angie stuck out her tongue at Cyn before she ran out, returning with a beer for herself. She set the bottle down on the end table, took a seat on the couch next to Maiya and propped her computer on her lap.
“Holy crap, put that thing on a coaster!” Maiya jumped up and grabbed a coaster from the table drawer and placed it under the beer. “We don’t need Ryan having a nervous breakdown.”
Angie broke into a fit of giggles. “But it’s just so much fun seeing him lose his shit over stuff like that.”
Maiya chuckled. “Are you kidding? I caught him lint-rollering the comforter the other day. He said
there were fuzzies all over it from the extra blanket.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” Cyn brushed the hair out of her eyes.
Maiya shook her head. “Not one bit. And you know that earned him a blowjob in the closet.”
Angie scowled and raised her hand. “TMI! I do not want to hear about you sucking my brother’s dick.”
Cyn laughed again and then cleared her throat. “Okay, blowjobs aside, can we get back on topic?” Cyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Angie, please tell me you’re not working.”
“Hell no, I’m looking up flights to Texas for you.” Angie glanced up from the computer screen.
Cyn sat up straight. “You’re what?”
“Good thinking, Ang.” Maiya nudged Angie’s shoulder with her fingertip. “I think you going to Texas is a great idea, Cyn. Just show up at his door.”
“Thanks!” Angie took a sip of her beer. “There’s a direct flight tomorrow morning at five.”
Nervous energy propelled Cyn to her feet and she started pacing. “I can’t just show up at his door, you guys!”
“Why not? I showed up at this very door and look how good that turned out.” With a shrug, Maiya raised her bottle to her lips. “Ryan was a little shocked, of course, but then we ended up having sex on the couch.”
Angie let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you ever stop? I mean seriously. You two are like rabbits. And I’m really horny. It’s not fair.”
Maiya grinned. “I know, it’s fucking great!”
Frustration pounded through Cyn’s mind in time with her heart and she stopped, turned to her sisters and pressed her hands to her chest. “Me? Can we get back to me, please? And in case you’re all wondering, I miss this man like my life depended on it. That also means I miss his cock. His cock is like crack.” She moaned and glanced at her sister. “Sorry, Angie.”
“No problem.” Angie smothered her grin with her hand.
“Thank you. So can we pleeeeease get back to me and what I should do?” Cyn ran her fingers through her hair and tugged on the ends.
Ryan came in the room. “What are you three squawking about?”
Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3 Page 29
