“That’ll teach me to be more careful about checking whether a certain little miss is actually asleep. All right, so what we know so far is limited. The operation didn’t go ahead as planned—Atticus didn’t send in his team, so they’re safe. Jasper, Thane, and Att are all fine—Atticus is just a little banged up and suffered some smoke inhalation from the explosion.” Connie reached out and laid her hand on Alicia’s thigh. “Everyone is safe. Everyone is alive.”
“How do you know? Have you seen them?” Alicia wasn’t prepared to raise her hopes prematurely, even though she could feel them struggling toward the surface of the black fog.
“Jasper texted Archie to let her know what was happening, so we wouldn’t worry. We didn’t say anything to you, because you weren’t supposed to be aware of anything that happened today. Is that why you locked yourself in here, Lisha? You thought Atticus was dead?”
The shock of hearing the words Atticus and dead in the same sentence aloud was equal to the flood of relief that brought tears to her eyes. Nodding slowly, she kneaded Mr. Bear’s plump body with shaking fingers.
“Silly, silly girl,” Connie said under her breath, then slid closer and pulled Alicia into a hug. A second later, just as Alicia’s arms were lifting to lock around her friend, Anarchy joined the huddle. “This is why we say you need to talk to us, Lisha. Communicate. If you’d just said something, we could have told you everyone was okay.”
It was almost like being hugged by Atticus, Alicia thought, only with more arms and no manly, rugged scent teasing her senses. Both women wore something earthy and floral—it couldn’t compare to how her Daddy smelled. But she relaxed into them, let them hold her as the tears came.
She wasn’t the only one—Anarchy was crying just as hard, just as quietly, while Connie cleared her throat and sniffled.
By the time the tears dried, Alicia felt calmer. The myriad of thoughts plaguing her sneaked away, ready to come back and play another day. “When are they coming home?”
Connie sighed. “They already are, sweetheart. Atticus is overseeing the debriefing of the team, and then they’ll all be here.” She shoved her hair away from her face, then touched her fingertips to Alicia’s cheek, urging her to look into the Domme’s eyes.
Only, the Domme had receded again, leaving the Connie she knew behind.
“Being part of a family like this means everyone knows just about everything about each other, Alicia. Secrets are pried loose, problems are discussed and dismantled. We all trust each other. I know being alone and repressing everything is the way you’ve handled the past, but it can’t continue into the future. Atticus won’t allow it.”
Alicia knew it wasn’t Connie’s intention, but it made her feel ashamed. She wanted to explain what was going on in her head, but it was so complicated, she didn’t understand it herself. “Sometimes, when I try to talk or someone asks me a question, I can’t reply. Especially if someone’s angry with me. The words are there, and I have a dialogue running through my brain, but my voice just doesn’t work. No matter how hard I want to, I can’t say what I’m thinking.”
“Because you’re afraid of the response?”
She nodded. “Abraham would lecture me, shout at me, make me feel this small,” she added, holding her thumb and forefinger apart the barest millimeter. “Diane did the same. Berate me, tell me everything that I did wrong or wasn’t good enough. If I said anything, they got angry, even if I was answering their questions or making a point about something they’d said. They hit me, told me I was useless and deserved to die, and…”
“You learned that staying silent was the best method of self-preservation. There’s a condition, Lisha. A severe anxiety disorder called selective mutism. It usually begins in childhood during social situations, but I’ve known a few patients who suffer from it, and they’re triggered by confrontation—a partner, a parent, a stranger.”
“There’s a name for it?”
“Yeah, there is. I’ll talk to Atticus about how to help you, and what resources are available for managing your triggers. This is what I mean, sweetie. Communicate with us and there’s pretty much nothing we can’t do.”
“There’s literally nothing we can’t do,” Anarchy chimed in, settling back into the couch and drying her cheeks. The tears were gone, but the evidence of their presence was loud and proud. “God, if I have to wait much longer to see Jasper, I’ll go crazy. The moment he walks through the door, I’m dragging him into an empty room and tackling him to the floor. He’s getting the best welcome home sex anyone has ever had.”
“You’re not the only one. I’m of two minds on whether to let Thane take charge and ride me into the nearest mattress or flog his ass until he’s begging to come like a geyser. The choices are many, the rewards great.”
Two pairs of expectant eyes pinned Alicia into the couch. A little slow off the mark, she realized they were waiting for her to join in with the fun on the welcome home bandwagon. Mouth working uncomfortably, she said slowly, “Daddy will get a big kiss?”
“If that kiss is code for eating you out like an ice cream sundae, I wholeheartedly approve. Sadly, I think you mean an actual kiss on the formal set of lips.” Connie tsked quietly and gave her a pat. “Think bigger, Alicia. There are a lot of areas on the body that can make you feel really good. Anarchy mentioned you’re experiencing pain during sex?”
Jesus, what had the blonde told the Domme? Were all Alicia’s secrets out in the open, aired like dirty linen? No, they couldn’t be. Connie was too calm to know about Abraham. “I don’t like sex.”
“Well, you’re not having it with Atticus then. I don’t think there’s a woman alive who’s ever complained about sex with him. I guess my suspicions were correct—was it Abraham or one of his scum-sucking clients?”
“A-Abraham. How did you know?”
Connie shook her head. “I lived with you long enough to form suspicions. Abraham was always top contender for prime suspect—he had a young, innocent, disabled girl in his house with no one to protect her. I just couldn’t decide whether he was enough of a pedophile to rape his own daughter or greedy enough to sell you to the highest bidder like he planned to do with Bodie. I hope his precious dick is rotting in a vat of sulfuric acid.”
Baffled, Alicia hooked her arm around Mr. Bear and waited for the implosion. “You know, but you’re not angry.”
“I have confirmation of a theory,” Connie corrected, resting her hand on Alicia’s tense shoulder and rubbing gently. “I’m past angry and into furious at this point, but shouting and swearing at a dead man won’t help anyone. Least of all you. So, we have to consider a few things—has Atticus touched you yet, in a sexual context?”
Embarrassed heat flooded her face. “We’ve, ah, kissed. That was nice, I liked it. And he…we…he made me—” Oh God, what was the right word? Come, orgasm, pop off like a rocket? “—feel good with his fingers.”
Anarchy gave a soft purr of approval.
“Okay, that’s a positive start. How did you feel about that?”
“I was doing all right until I remembered how much it hurts to have something pushed inside me. Daddy spanked me and everything was warm and tingly. I don’t like the burning sensation, the stretching feeling. It reminds me of…bad times.”
“Understandably. Our bodies remember trauma as equally as our brains. I’ve been there, Alicia. Ten years ago now, long before Thane, and there are still moments when I submit to him—a man who has never lifted a hand to me in anger—and I don’t see him. I get trapped in a memory he has no part of, that I never want him to know about.” Connie lost some of the color from her cheeks. “My man is a godsend. He stops everything in a heartbeat, regardless of what he’s doing or where his dick is, and he talks to me. Grounds me, reels me back in, and holds me until the pain falls into his lap. It’s shared pain then, you see. He takes the weight so I’m not carrying it alone.”
Alicia thought of the conference room, the exquisite patience Atticus exhibited while she h
ad her minor meltdown. That’s what he’d done for her—carried the weight, removed it from her shoulders onto his own, and shown her that being touched in the right way was a pleasure rather than a form of torture.
“The first time you have sex after a rape is exhausting. Stress builds up, anxiety and nerves kick into full force. Muscles tense, your body wants to deny what’s about to happen. Your head might be an absolute disaster of thoughts and emotions.” Connie’s hands gestured as she spoke. “Atticus is your godsend, Alicia. Every woman is different, so I can’t tell you how you’ll react to him mentally, but my advice is to trust your Daddy. Let him guide you, lead you if need be, but remember to talk to him.”
“What if it hurts? I want to make him happy.”
“If it hurts, I’m doing something wrong.”
Absolute joy erased the mortification of being overheard. Alicia’s head whipped around at the same time as Connie and Archie’s, and for one amazing instant, her body acted all on its own. Hands flat against the couch seat, she pushed herself up without thinking. Her knees and ankles locked, and she surged upright.
Muscles that were almost non-existent and hadn’t been used in damn near fifteen years screamed in agony. She gasped as the pain invaded every cell in her body, but it couldn’t distract her from the fact that she was standing.
“Somebody catch her!”
That one amazing moment lasted half a second. Shouts rained down around her as she felt her ankles twist, then her knees give, and the carpet rushed up to meet her face at warp speed.
Anarchy proved to be faster than anyone, whipping her arm out and lashing it around Alicia’s torso as she toppled forward. A second later, Connie’s reinforced it, the two women suspending her above the floor.
Heavy footsteps matched the frantic pulse of blood in her ears, and Alicia rode the blissful high of adrenaline pumping madly through her veins. She was laughing when Atticus rounded the couch and plucked her into his arms, laughing with elation so keen, she’d never felt anything like it. And then the laughter died into shocked sobs, hard enough to shake her thin frame.
“What the hell was that? Was she standing?”
“Jesus, talk about miracles.”
“How the fuck is that possible? She was on her feet. She was standing on her own two feet—”
“Quiet,” Atticus ordered, sitting down with an uncomfortable groan and settling her on his lap. His hands stroked wherever they could reach as she gasped for air between the sobs. “Just sit down and be quiet for a few minutes. She needs to calm herself. I’ll explain everything.”
How could she have doubted him? He’d told her that her legs worked, and she hadn’t believed him. So many years in a wheelchair, all the lies and ploys to keep her in it, had knocked her confidence in everyone—including herself. But Daddy hadn’t lied, he hadn’t conspired to keep her bound to the chair, and the thrill of hearing his voice again when she’d thought it would be one of those memories left to fade into nothingness had been enough to free her.
One precious second she would never forget.
“Well, you’ve had an eventful morning, princess, much more fun than mine.” Atticus pressed his cheek to the top of her head and rocked. “God, I’ve missed you and it’s only been a few hours. Catch your breath, Lisha, before you lose it altogether.”
Alicia inhaled deeply through her nose, let it go through her mouth. She wanted to cry some more, needed to laugh again. Hell, right now she could have all the sex Daddy desired and not feel a thing. There was happy, and then there was overwhelming hope.
“I walked,” she whispered. “I walked.”
“Not quite, but you’re on your way. This morning’s events were worth going through, just to see you stand on your own two feet for the first time in fourteen years.” He kissed her—not just her mouth, but her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. “I’m one proud Daddy, princess.”
Elated, she buried her face into his neck and swam in the tsunami of emotions turning her upside down, inside out, and spinning her around in crazy circles. His pride was just another layer of fluffy cloud lifting her higher with every passing moment.
For a singular moment, she’d been the tallest person in the room, freed from the wheelchair and standing under her own steam. She’d felt the floor beneath her feet as a new door opened to her future.
“Jules called,” Daddy murmured against her hair, his voice tired and heavy but reverberating with every kind of positivity she could name. “Want me to share the news with the class?”
Good news should be shared. Alicia listened to the uneasy silence humming around them and sensed the impatience growing minute by minute. She swore she could taste Connie’s infuriation. With a nod, she breathed deep of his scent and caught a whiff of smoke.
“All right, now that Alicia’s returned from cloud nine, I’ll bring you up to speed. As you’ve probably guessed, not everything is as it seems regarding her condition. This morning, on our way back from the op, I got a call from a friend of mine, Julia Moss. Doctor Moss. She’s top of her field, and she did us a favor by running some scans on Alicia on Friday.”
“The hospital,” Connie muttered. “That’s why you were there.”
“Yes. I didn’t mention it to anyone because we weren’t sure what the final outcome would be, and there was no point in raising everyone’s hopes only for them to be crushed. Jules has spent the weekend looking at the results, and in her professional opinion…well, there is not—and never has been—any damage to Alicia’s spinal cord.”
Four voices rose in tandem, shocked and demanding, only to be muted by a single gesture from Atticus.
“You’ll have a lot of questions. Our theory is that Fielding—Alicia’s doctor of record—was paid to falsify the reports and treatment given to Lisha at the time of the accident, at the request of her parents. Fielding has officially been reported to the police, and the state medical board.” Daddy stroked her back as he spoke, and she lifted her head to peek at the group-wide expression of disbelief. “Alicia has had sensation in her legs since she was ten years old, and was gaslighted by both her doctor and her parents into believing she was imagining it.”
“They trained her into a wheelchair.” Anarchy’s eyes glistened with tears. “The bastards stole her childhood, her teenage years, for what?”
“Fielding has several unsavory habits including drug use and betting on the ponies. Until he’s interviewed, we can only assume, but my opinion is he was bought by Abraham for the princely sum of whatever he could suck up his nose.” That big hand clamped down on her nape, making her shiver delightfully. “As for Alicia’s parents…money is likely their motive. A free paycheck parked in the corner of a room, with the potential for more income from depraved clients wanting to fuck a disabled girl. A toy that couldn’t run away when Abraham wanted to get his rocks off.”
Alicia cringed, feeling all eyes fall on her.
“A combination of narcotics and psychological abuse have resulted in Alicia becoming needlessly dependent on the chair,” he continued quietly. “After the death of her parents, Alicia’s intake was cut off, and her body has been slowly detoxing. Some of the behavioral issues she exhibited last year can be attributed to withdrawal symptoms, along with a few physical abnormalities like non-existent menstrual cycles.”
Cheeks already heating, Alicia tried not to be self-conscious of the fact her Daddy was saying all these things so casually. Positive the others would be trying their best not to laugh, she braved a look at their faces, confused by what she saw.
Thane and Jasper were angry. It took her seconds to read their body language, their facial expressions, and reach that conclusion. Fists clenched, jaws tight, eyes hard and hot. They didn’t like what they were hearing.
Anarchy seemed lost, as though she couldn’t process what Atticus was telling them. Cuddled on Jasper’s lap, her fingers gripped his shirt as she listened intently. When her brown eyes met Alicia’s, they softened immediately, and she offered a sad sm
ile.
On the other end of the scale, Connie was leaning forward, drinking in every word. She wore her professional face, the one Alicia recognized as driven and determined to solve a puzzle. “Well, I read that wrong, didn’t I? There was no documented history of drugs use to work with, and you didn’t display any classic signs of use,” Connie said to Alicia. “Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I let you down so badly.”
Clearing her throat, she shook her head. “If I didn’t know they were pumping stuff into me, how could you? The symptoms you were trying to treat are still part of me, so you called it right.”
“It doesn’t excuse—”
“There’s no excuse for anything they did to me. They saw an opportunity to make a profit off me, and they took it. They never wanted me or Bodie, we were just sad by-products of drunken sex and stupidity. The only difference is, she was smart enough to get the hell away from there before Abraham could chain her to them.” Alicia lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Everything goes back to them, Connie. You did your job, and I’m grateful for everything you tried to do for me. It brought me here.”
As Connie fought through several constricted breaths, Thane dragged her against his chest, comforting her. The way he handled her was almost a mirror-reflection of how Jasper tended to Archie, and how Daddy was soothing her.
“There have been a few indicators that Alicia’s spine wasn’t as broken as everyone has been led to believe—tremors, reflexive kicking, sensation. Now that Julia’s confirmed that there is no physical reason Alicia can’t walk, it’s time we move forward.”
“You did all this in a week?” Jasper demanded.
“Connections are what make the world turn, J. It’s amazing what one good deed can reap.” Daddy shifted her on his lap, groaning under his breath as her weight settled in a new position over his thighs. “Jules has already made arrangements for Alicia to see one of the top physiotherapists in the country. Rehabilitative therapy starts the first week in September.”
Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4 Page 37
