“You mean that?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.
I hate how vulnerable he looks and how much my actions have damaged what we share and made him doubt my true feelings. It doesn’t matter that I did it in some misguided attempt to set him free, because it’s crystal clear now that didn’t happen.
“With my whole heart.”
He wraps his arms around me, hugging me closer than ever. “I love you too. So fucking much.” He eases his hold, tilting my face up with one finger. “I’m not expecting anything here, Sel. I won’t put demands on you except for one thing.” Vulnerability is etched across his handsome face. “Don’t leave me again. We don’t have to put any labels on this, but just tell me you won’t push me away. I wouldn’t survive it a second time. I need you in my life.”
Everything is jumbled in my head, and I’m not sure I’m qualified to make such heady promises, but there is no way I’m refusing him this. Not after everything he has done for me. Not after today. He would’ve been perfectly within his rights to turn me away earlier. Or to get angry at me for the unfair way I’ve treated him. But all he’s ever done is show me kindness and shower me with love. It’s not his fault that I’ve abused that kindness and that I feel so unworthy.
“Okay,” I whisper, trailing my hand up his chest to cup his face. “I won’t leave, and I’ll tell you everything. I won’t shut you out.”
* * *
Kent has breakfast waiting when we step foot in the kitchen the next morning. Keanu’s brother’s partying ways are legendary, so it’s a shock to see him wide-awake at seven a.m. on a Friday morning, whistling under his breath as he cooks at the stove. I take a stool at the counter beside Keanu, trying not to focus on how fucking gorgeous he looks with his hair still damp from the shower and his big eyes bright with love as they study me.
“I hope you like your eggs sunny-side up,” Kent says, sliding a plate with eggs, bacon and whole wheat toast across the countertop to me.
I drag my gaze away from Keanu. “You didn’t have to do this,” I reply. “But thank you. It looks delicious.”
“You’re welcome,” Kent adds, offering me a tall glass filled with orange juice.
Keanu looks at his brother like he’s grown wings or something.
“What are your plans for today?” Keanu asks him in between mouthfuls of the yummy breakfast.
“Catch a couple classes. Finish my assignment. Head to the gym, and I’m thinking of going to a frat party tonight,” Kent says, sipping a mug of coffee. “What are you two up to?”
“I’m taking Selena to an appointment, and then, we’ll probably just hang out around here,” Keanu says.
“I wouldn’t mind catching a yoga class later on,” I say, because I know the studio I go to has a drop-in class on Fridays, and I could use the stress relief.
“Cool. I’ll come with,” Keanu says, readily agreeing.
Now, it’s Kent’s turn to look at his brother like he’s grown an extra head. “You know yoga?”
“Keanu used to do yoga with me at home,” I blurt.
Kent almost chokes on his coffee while Keanu playfully messes up my hair. “Thanks. That’s just done wonders for my rep,” he jokes, grinning at me.
Kent leans his elbows on the counter, and his blue eyes sparkle with mirth. Gosh, they are so alike with the same dark hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. But Kent is bulkier than Keanu, his hair is longer and stylishly messy, there is more facial hair on his chin and cheeks, and he has way more ink too. He’s got that “diamond in the rough” look about him, and it’s no wonder he has no shortage of women lining up to share his bed.
If I’m being honest, Kent scares me a little. I’ve only met him fleetingly a few times, but he always comes across as brash and intimidating and way too cocky. But he’s been nothing but nice to me since I showed up here yesterday, so perhaps I formed the wrong impression of him. Or maybe, Keanu’s influence is having a positive effect on him.
“What other things don’t I know about my brother?” Kent asks, wiggling his brows at me.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Kent barks out a gruff laugh. “You’re on, sister.” He rubs his hands together. “I love a good challenge.” He smirks at Keanu. “And I love winding this idiot up.” He dumps his mug in the sink. “Bring on the fun times!”
I laugh, and it’s nothing short of miraculous. Keanu’s gaze dances between his brother and me, and a wide smile graces his lips. “It’s okay, don’t mind me,” he drawls. “Continue to poke fun at my expense.”
Kent slaps him on the back. “I think your ego can handle it.” He waggles his fingers at me. “I’ll get out of your hair. See ya later.”
“He’s not what I was expecting,” I admit, pushing my half-eaten plate away.
“He’s behaving himself with you here,” Keanu says, frowning as he looks at my plate. “You need to eat, Sel.”
“He gave me far too much. I’m full.” I pat my flat stomach.
He swivels in his chair, and our legs brush, sending a jolt of heat through me. “How are you feeling?”
I shrug, wrapping my fingers around my claddagh necklace. “I’m okay.” He searches my eyes for the truth. “I’m worried, but I’m in control. No meltdowns.”
“And the nightmares? Was it new, or you still get them?”
“I still get them, just not as often.” For years, I couldn’t open up to Denise about the specifics of the things done to me. But part of my recovery these last couple years has involved me sharing more, and she’s right. Getting it out has helped me work through the myriad of feelings associated with that very painful part of my past. And I found my nightmares reduced as a result. Go figure.
“So, things have been better since we split?” he asks, his tone and face tinged in sadness.
“Yes, but only because I’ve been making more of an effort with my recovery and stretching myself out of my comfort zone.”
He’s deathly quiet, and I know I’ve upset him again. “Keanu.” I reach for his hand, but he slides off the stool.
“We better head out. I’m not sure what the traffic will be like.”
I slip off the stool with my heart hurting, planting a fake smile on my face as I grab my bag and follow him outside.
9
Selena
“I overheard you and Kent talking last night,” I say from the passenger seat of Keanu’s pristine SUV en route to my psychologist’s place. The traffic isn’t too heavy, and we are making good time. “And I’m okay if you want to tell him about me.”
His head whips around, his face showcasing his shock. “Which parts?” he asks, his eyes rotating between me and the road.
“All of it.” I pin him with earnest eyes.
His jaw slackens.
“I’m not ever going to be shouting about it from the rooftops,” I explain, “but I’ve spent too long a slave to my past. I want to lead a normal life. To let my loved ones in, and that won’t work if I keep what happened to me a secret. So, I’m learning to open up about it.”
But it takes enormous courage to go there, and I don’t know Kent well enough to feel comfortable telling him directly myself. I worry my lip between my mouth as I phrase my words carefully. “It wasn’t right of me to ask you to keep my secret. You basically lied to your family for me, and I shouldn’t have asked that of you.”
I glance out the window, the weight of all my past mistakes adding to my overall despondent mood since we left the condo.
“I never felt like that, and you shouldn’t either,” he says, his husky voice reclaiming my attention, reeling me in from the dark ledge I’m tethering to. “I was keeping your confidence, not lying. And no one would blame you for not wanting to discuss it or have others know. You were only a kid, Selena. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“That’s what Denise says.” I turn to face him.
“I knew I liked her for a reason.” He flashes me a panty-melting smile and I almost turn in
to a puddle of goo.
I quickly divert my gaze to the window again before I’m caught drooling, pulling my knees up to my chest, smiling at the woman with the small boy on the sidewalk as we pass by. The kid is holding a giant stuffed panda bear to his chest, and it’s so large he’s almost toppling over. I watch as his mother scoops him and the stuffed animal into her arms, holding him protectively and possessively, while rubbing his nose and making him laugh. The innocence and purity of the moment shine a light on the dark cloud growing inside me.
I need to know there is still innocence and goodness in this world. To know kids grow up the way they should: in a nurturing environment being bathed in love. Feeling secure and safe, learning and developing with the confidence and happiness that comes from a childhood filled with wonder and awe, not darkness and despair.
I have so few memories of the time before, because it’s easy to let the darkness outshine the light. But I’m trying to reclaim those happy moments before my childhood turned into a horror story. To hold tight to the memories of my mom, dad, and little sister Carly. To remember the girl I was before I was forced to become someone else.
“Hey. Where’d you go?” Keanu asks, gently touching my knee, concern vibrating from him.
“I was just looking at that mom with her son back there, and my mind wandered.”
He squeezes my knee, offering silent support, but no more words are spoken, because Keanu reads me perfectly and he understands I don’t want to go there.
When we pull up at the curb outside Denise’s house, he kills the engine and extracts the key. “Would it be okay if I waited inside?” His eyes drift sideways, and I watch as the car with my two new bodyguards glides into a space across the road.
“Of course. I’m sure Denise would like to say hello.” Denise was always a big fan of my boyfriend.
Keanu gets out of the car first, running to my side and opening the passenger door. He takes my hand, helping me down, and he doesn’t let go.
We walk up Denise’s short driveway holding hands, and it’s incredible how naturally we have slotted back into a pattern.
I guess it’s like that when the other person is the other half of your body, heart, mind, and soul.
Keanu and I never needed labels because calling him my best friend or my boyfriend was never enough. It never conveyed everything he meant to me because he was always so much more.
Which is why it killed me to wrench myself away from him.
But my progress the last couple years is testament to the fact I made the right decision. Even if it hurt both of us, and though it might not seem like it now—in the midst of this crisis—I am stronger and more independent, thanks to the time apart.
Denise opens the door, not masking her shock and delight at seeing Keanu here with me. The instant we step foot into her high-ceiling hallway, she pulls him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too,” he agrees, bundling her up into a big hug.
“Although it’s completely unexpected,” she adds, breaking away. “Because this little rascal didn’t mention a word.” She smiles affectionately in my direction.
“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” I grin. “I know how much you’ve been pining for him.”
She lets loose a loud laugh. “Something tells me I might not have been the only one.” She drills me with a knowing look.
“Oh, I was definitely pining for you too,” Keanu says, deliberately misinterpreting her statement, and Denise laughs again.
“Don’t be a stranger,” she tells him, opening the door to the waiting room and gesturing for him to step inside. “And make yourself at home. You’ll find nothing has changed since you were last here except we now have a new and improved coffee station, thanks to an anonymous donor.” She’s teasing, because the three of us know Keanu was the one who sent the gift to her. He did enough grumbling about the shit coffee for it not to be him.
“Can’t wait to try it out.” The laughter fades as he looks me directly in the eye. “If you need me to participate, just let me know.”
Keanu has attended a few therapy sessions with me in the past, but I know this is one conversation I need to have without him in the room. “I’m good.” On impulse, I stretch up and press my lips to his cheek. “Go test the coffee.”
Denise ushers me into her front room, quietly closing the door behind me. I settle into the comfy gray velvet armchair while she makes the peppermint tea. The scent of lavender and sage wafts through the air from the diffuser she has lit. I survey the homey room as she sings softly under her breath, glad Mom found such an awesome therapist for me from the get-go.
I couldn’t stomach the thought of attending meetings in a cold, clinical building or sitting in a crowded waiting room with a bunch of strangers. Mom inherently knew what I needed, and she interviewed tons of therapists before finding Denise.
Meeting her at her own home helps calm my nerves. That and her motherly demeanor.
She wears jeans and a soothing sea-green sweater today, with white tennis shoes. Her gray hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and her face is devoid of makeup. Coming here is like meeting a friend for tea. Except for the fact I pry my chest apart, rip my heart out, and spill my painful secrets. All in the name of healing. But I trust Denise, and she has been incredibly patient with me. Taking things in small baby steps. Helping me test my boundaries, reclaim my independence, face up to my past, live in the present, and prepare for the future.
I can’t envision a time where I will ever stop meeting with her. I think I will always need her guidance and support.
“Drink up,” she says, handing me the mug of peppermint tea. She sits down across from me, and we sip our tea in silence, like we always do. I sink back into my seat, gathering my thoughts and trying to make sense of them as I inhale the comforting scent of lavender in the air and drink the fresh, minty tea.
“Okay,” she says when we have put our cups down. “Let’s start with some meditation and deep-breathing exercises.” We go through a familiar routine, and it helps ground me. Helps to keep my anxiety at bay.
When she is satisfied I am ready, she sits up straighter in her chair. “Tell me what prompted an emergency meeting today.”
I kick off my ballet flats and tuck my legs underneath me. Clearing my throat, I tell her what happened yesterday with Clive Lawrence. My voice is clinical as I explain, but it’s the only way I can get the words out without giving in to the fear bubbling under the surface of my skin since it went down yesterday. I toy with my necklace as I talk. We discuss my options and my feelings, and she coaxes information from me through skillful questioning that is patient and supportive.
“And what are your feelings toward Keanu?” she asks during the last part of the session.
“He makes me feel safe,” I truthfully admit. “And I trust him, but I’m feeling huge guilt too.”
“Why?”
“For pushing him away. For hurting him. For showing up on his doorstep after all this time and demanding so much of him.”
“Demanding.” She taps a finger off her lips. “That’s a very strong word. Is it the right one?”
I think about it. “Not demanding. Asking.” She quirks a brow, and I answer her unspoken follow-up question. “Okay, maybe not so much asking as him offering.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Unworthy,” I blurt, because it’s the first word that springs to mind.
“Why do you feel unworthy?” she asks even though we’ve already discussed my feelings about Keanu at length.
“Because I’m not normal, and I can’t give him the things he wants.”
“The things he wants or the things you think he wants?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“Are they?”
“I’m selfish,” I say after a few beats of silence. “And weak, because I ran straight to him without conscious thought.”
“Do you think our subconscious knows our needs and
desires better than our conscious mind?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I was on autopilot when I landed on his doorstep. I’m not sure I’d have made that decision if I hadn’t been in the midst of a panic attack.”
“And do you regret it?”
I shake my head. “No, even though it’s going against everything I wanted to achieve when I broke things off with him. Even if it confirms I’m weak.”
“Is it weakness or is it strength?”
We’ve debated this at length. “I honestly can’t tell anymore.”
“It is not weak to seek out support when we need it,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. “It is not weak to lean on our loved ones when we need propping up.” Her features soften as she leans forward. “Knowing when to rely on others is a strength, not a weakness.”
“I relied on him too much before.”
She nods. “And do you think this is the same? Are you the same?”
I contemplate her words for a few minutes, trying to organize my thoughts. “No. With him, I feel stronger, braver, more empowered, but I’m afraid of slipping into old patterns. It would be so easy because he’s like a comfort blanket, and I know he wants to wrap me in his warmth and protect me from the cold. But I can’t let him become my crutch again.” I softly bite down on my lower lip. “I want things to be different this time.”
“In what way?”
“I want it to be a partnership. I want to take care of him the same way he takes care of me. I want to show him I’m no longer that frightened girl who hid behind him, but I’m afraid I’m not fully ready. That I’m not strong enough to be who I want to be.”
“For Keanu or for you?” she asks, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“For me,” I say without hesitation, because that has always been the crux of the decision. “But also for him.”
“It’s one step at a time, Selena. And you have robust coping strategies. Look how well you are able to sit here today and discuss how your past threatens to impact your present and how self-assured you are when you discuss what you want and need from your relationship with Keanu.” She beams at me. “You have come a long way, Selena, and you achieved it through tackling things one at a time. Don’t overburden yourself. Don’t put too many expectations on your relationship. Talk to Keanu. Let him know how you are feeling. Let him be a part of the decision-making process. And let him help you.” She kneels in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “Your reunion may not have happened on your schedule, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t exactly where you should be with the person you should be right now.”
Releasing Keanu Page 7
