Where the Heart Lies

by Amanda Ray

  Kennedy shook his head and stared at me so intensely that my stomach began to knot up. And not in the good way. I suddenly felt a rush of nerves and gripped my keys a little tighter. He seemed to notice and relaxed his shoulders, giving me a genuine smile. "Okay, sweetheart, If you want to play hard to get then I can wait. I'll take you out Saturday night, but be prepared to have your mind blown." Kennedy gave me a wink and pulled me in close for a hug before kissing my head and I took in a shocked breath. "Good night, Freya."

  "Good night, Kennedy." I smiled at him and watched him walk away. When I got in my car I shook my head in disbelief and let out a shaky breath. How could someone go from being so controlling to so sweet in the matter of seconds? Instead of trying to figure it out I focused on getting home and getting some beauty rest for my date with Jesse, which was in less than sixteen hours. My stomach flipped with excitement at the thought of seeing him and I hurried home to get under the covers. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. Dreaming of solid bodies, tattoos and gorgeous blue eyes.

  Chapter 28

  I woke up at two pm that Friday afternoon, giving me just enough time to take a hot shower and begin getting ready. Jesse texted me and told me to dress nice and I smiled at the thought, reminiscing about the first time he saw me dressed up for a club with Lily. My smile turned to a frown at the thought and I blinked away the tears that started to form from the memory of my best friend. I missed her beyond words, I always will and every time a memory of her came popping up I swallowed it down with a drink. I couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t cope.

  I made my way to the kitchen before picking out an outfit and poured myself a hefty glass of rum and coke. Just enough to swallow away my pain but not enough to be drunk before Jesse’s arrival. I grabbed my drink and headed back to my room, turning up my music, I proceeded to get ready. The quiet apartment filled with the top hits and I got lost in getting dolled up. Anna was at work, which meant I could parade around the house naked and sing at the top of my lungs or dance in front of my mirror without having to feel embarrassed.

  Hours went by and before I knew it there was a knock on the apartment door. Jesse. I took one last look at myself in the mirror before going to answer it. My long dark hair, sleek and straightened hit just below my arms at my back. My tight black bandage dress rested inches above my knees and hugged every curve. It had spaghetti straps and a low cut bust line that gave me just enough cleavage to show off while still looking sleek and classy. I paired long dangly silver earrings to match my sister necklace, that I've never taken off, and my four inch red stiletto heels gave me just enough pop of color and would draw anyone's eyes to my long slender legs. Damn, I looked good.

  I opened up the door to a bouquet of white roses and lavender. My heart flip flopped and my breath caught in my throat. "Thank you." My words came out breathless as I slowly grabbed the flowers and tracked my eyes over the gorgeous man that stood in front of me. Jesse was in a black form fitting tux, with a silver wrist watch, his hair was slicked back showcasing his bright blue eyes and a white pocket square stuck out neatly placed in his coat. Holy shit. How is it legal to look that good!

  "Shit, Freya!" Jesse eyed me up and down and I took a step back looking down at my dress. My cheeks flushed and I suddenly scanned my body for something wrong with my outfit. "What? Is there a hole? Did I spill something?" I was frantic, spinning around in front of him trying to look all over my body for what I was clearly missing. Jesse chuckled and lightly grabbed my arm, stopping me from spinning. He grabbed my chin between his two fingers and tilted my head up to look at him. He shook his head at me, "Nothing is wrong with your dress. You look fucking incredible. I mean you would look good wearing a damn garbage bag, but this," he motioned to my body, his hand moving up and down, "this is fucking incredible. I think you made my heart skip a beat there for a second." My cheeks went scarlet red at the compliment and I smiled at Jesse, "Right back at ya, babe." Jesse's eyes had widened at my term of endearment.

  "Say that again!" His bottom lip dragged between his teeth and I chuckled at his eagerness. I gave my head a little shake before meeting his gaze and repeating myself slowly, emphasizing on the last word, "Right back at ya, babe." As soon as the words were out of my mouth Jesse's lips were on mine. Attacking my mouth with his. But for every kiss we'd ever shared this one felt different. This one was soft yet hard, not a kiss that said he wanted to take me to bed but a kiss that said I want you. All of you. A kiss that said I never want to stop kissing you.

  I melted at the contact and my hands came up to clasp his neck. Jesse's hands were cradling my face, his thumbs grazed my cheeks and I heard myself whimper at how delicate he was being. How much love I was feeling. I pulled myself away touching his forehead with mine. Trying to gather my breath, I pushed back the tears that I felt were about to hit the surface and cleared my throat, "So where are you taking me?"

  Jesse's eyes met mine and he smiled a mischievous smile, "You'll see when we get there. But you have to promise me one thing, flowers." I smiled at his nickname for me, "Okay?"

  "Don't freak out when we get there." And with that I totally began to freak out. Where the hell is he taking me! He knows I'm going to freak out otherwise he wouldn't be asking me to promise not to! I nodded at him, biting my lip nervously and tried to hide the fact that I was indeed already freaking the fuck out! Jesse laughed at me, clearly seeing my freak out for what it was. He grabbed my hand and proceeded to walk us out of my apartment. "Come on, you'll love it. I promise." And with that, we were out the door and heading toward the unknown.

  An hour later we pulled up to the familiar place and my eyes widened, my stomach plummeted to the floor. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, the words stuck on my tongue. Jesse parked, turned off the engine and looked over at me. "You okay? You promised you wouldn't freak out. Please don't freak out." I looked over at him, tears brimming my eyes.

  "Don't cry, flower. Please." Jesse reached over and squeezed my hand. I looked down at the contact, sighing slowly. I glanced back at him and smiled, "I haven't been here since..." my sentence trailed off and Jesse knew exactly what I was going to say. "I know. I wanted you to have some new memories...." he paused for a minute, squeezing my hand and looking out at the diner, "Nothing can replace the old memories. Absolutely nothing can replace them. But we have to find a way to live our lives without them, Freya. And I don't know about you but I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if I never had a cheeseburger from here again."

  I chuckled, thinking back to my nights with Lily and the boys at the diner. And after my mom was murdered Jesse would take Lily and I there at least once a week. Our favorite waitress, Barb, used to call us Ray's click. We were regulars and I loved having that sense of belonging somewhere. But when Lily and Deb passed, I couldn't bring myself to step into the diner. It was our place. Lily and mine. It felt wrong to be there without her.

  I took a deep breath and grabbed my necklace, tangling it in my fingers and trying my hardest to keep the tears at bay. "She's always with us, you know." Jesse's words had brought my attention back to him and I couldn’t help the single tear that fell down my cheek. He leaned over and brushed it away. "She'd be happy that we're here. And if it gets too hard, just say the word and we're gone." I nodded my head, took a deep breath and opened my door to head into the deep sea of memories.

  That was one of my favorite dates and every single time I enter a diner, Rays or not, my mind always trails off to Jesse Blaine. Jesse and I had made it through that dinner talking about work, dating and memories and we were ecstatic when we saw that our waitress was the famous Barb. She gave me a big hug and said she understood why we hadn't been around but that she was so thrilled to see us again. After dinner Jesse came back to my apartment -Anna texted saying she was going to her boyfriend's house which meant we would have the whole place to ourselves. As soon as we got back I wiped out some wine and drank a glass before even offering Jesse one. The memories were beg
inning to be too much and I needed something to numb the pain of remembering. Jesse just grinned at me before asking if he could have one. After pouring him a glass we got comfy on the couch before starting our conversation back up.

  "So why the nickname? Not that I'm complaining. But you never told me and I want to know! Why flower?" I smiled at Jesse over the rim of my wine glass and fluttered my eyelids innocently waiting for his response.

  He chuckled and shook his head, "You really want to know why?"

  "Yes!" I practically yelled at him.

  Jesse laughed his adorably husky laugh, "Okay fine. I call you flower because for as long as I've known you, you always smell like lavender and honey," the corner of his mouth turned up and I felt a shiver down my spine, "And when you don't smell like that, you smell like rose water. It confused the shit out of me at first because the smells are so different but both so beautiful. And then for your birthday I remember your mom saying you loved roses when I overheard her talking to my mom. Roses and Lavender. The flowers of Freya. They're you. Thus... flower." He smirked at me and I looked over at the dining room table where the bouquet of flowers he had brought me sat. White roses and lavender. He brought me the flowers that made him think of me.

  Butterflies filled my stomach and I looked back at Jesse who was staring at me intensely. A lump formed in my throat. I needed to touch him. I needed to kiss him. I leaned forward and so did he. Our lips touched just slightly, barely even a kiss but it was enough. I rested my forehead on his, my eyes closed and I grazed his stubbly chin with my fingers. What is this feeling? What is he doing to me? My hands traced the back of his neck and I pulled Jesse closer. His lips were soft and firm. His tongue swept into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tipped my head back deepening the kiss and a groan left his mouth and escaped down my throat. I tugged him closer, needing more contact. This kiss, this feeling, it was so different from what I'd ever felt.

  My fingers traced down Jesse's button-down white shirt and I was so thankful he already took his jacket off. I fumbled with the buttons, aching to touch his beautifully tanned, chiseled eight pack. Jesse chuckled and started helping me, pulling the shirt up out of his pants and shaking it off his huge biceps. He found the zipper to my dress and pulled it down, grabbing my hands to pull me off the couch and letting the dress slide down my body. He pulled back, releasing my mouth from his and his breath hitched. "Oh. My. God." I looked down at my matching black lace bra and panties before looking back up at Jesse. My eyebrows drew together confused. "You're absolutely gorgeous." He breathed and I shook my head at him leaning in for another kiss. He was acting like it was the first time he'd ever seen me naked- or nearly naked- and I couldn’t help but feel like it- this-meant so much more to him than it ever had. I just didn’t know why.

  We made our way to the bedroom leaving a trail of clothes behind us and collapsed onto my queen sized mattress. Jesse took his time with me, giving me an orgasm with his fingers followed by two with his tongue before he even entered my aching heat. It was always amazing, the feeling of him inside of me but that time it was something more. Something that consumed my whole body and just from the simple glide inside of me I was close to a climax I knew would shatter me to pieces. Jesse went slow, giving me a steady pace and stared into my eyes the entire time. I reached up to kiss him, to tell him I wanted it rougher but he didn’t let me take control. He continued with his slow, deep rhythm and soon enough we were both panting and shaking from orgasms so satisfying I think I could have slept for months straight afterward. But right before Jesse pulled out of me he looked down at me, his blues so bright they looked like the ocean with just a trace of green by the pupil, and whispered, "I love you, Freya." He pulled out slowly, rolled over onto the side of the bed, turned to look at me and said, " I'm in love with you. Terribly. Deeply. And unmistakably in love with you."

  Jesse kissed my cheek, not pressuring me to respond before slowly getting up. He went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and I was left sitting on the bed, shell shocked. Frozen at his words. I love you Freya. I'm in love with you.

  Chapter 29

  "Oh my gosh! He told you he loved you! What'd you do?" Teresa asks excitedly, as if my explanation of my journey is a telenovela playing out in front of her eyes. But before I can answer, Rebecca chimes in, "Wait. He's not the one who abused you? So why is this important? Why’s he important?" she lets out an exhausted sigh like she can't wait for me to be done with my story so we can get on to better things.

  But the truth is that when you enter therapy, any kind of therapy, you’re there to talk about your past, present and future. Our group counseling sessions are not only meant to help us cope with the abuse we've all been through, past and present, but to figure out safe and healthy coping mechanisms and how we can move forward. We aren't just victims. We’re survivors. All of us. The ones who got out and the ones that are still fighting. And just like Lauren likes to remind us, “you survived the abuse, you’re going to survive the recovery.”

  The thing that brought us all here was that society tells you that if you let someone abuse you, put you down, put their hands on you or hold you hostage with control and money, that it's your fault. You’re problem. That it’s on you. The guilt, the defeat, the scars, it’s all on you because you didn’t leave. You didn’t run when you could or should have. But everyone sitting in this room knows otherwise. We know that sometimes you have nowhere else to go because you have no support system, no family or friends. That the act, the image, that someone portrays can be so convincing, so appealing, that when you finally discover the truth and decide to disclose your truth, people don't believe you. They don’t want to believe you. Society is so focused on what they can see that they don’t realize that abuse doesn't just mean the bruises that are left on the outside for people to see, but we do. We know. We know that sometimes people -spouses- start out great and then gradually put you down with their words, little by little until you believe you're worthless, useless, undeserving, disgusting and don't deserve anything better than what they’re offering you. We know that there's always a story behind how it all happened, how some people have it worse-way worse- than others and how, most of us, luckily, have gotten out. And sharing our stories with people who are still submerged in that world is something we need to give each other just a little bit of hope that yes, she made it out and so can you.

  I take a deep breath and shake my head, "No. Jesse isn't the one who abused me." I turn to look at Teresa to answer her question, "I left. I was a coward.” Her sorrowful eyes sting and I can't help the tears that start to build in my eyes. I haven't felt the pain of what I did that day in so long. After that night my whole life changed.

  Jesse told me he loved me and I fled. I grabbed my clothes and ran out the door crying while he was still in the bathroom. He texted and called me for days on end after that but it wasn't until a few weeks later that I had responded.

  I'm sorry. I can't do this. You're my best friend and I can't lose you. Please don't hate me. Was the text I left him. His simple response broke my heart even more. Never.

  The truth was, I was madly in love with Jesse. I think I always will be, but that night everything hit me like a mac truck at full speed. After I lost everyone I’d ever loved, he was all I had left and I didn't want to do anything to lose him too. I couldn’t lose him. And I thought that if I let myself live him, let myself feel, then something bad would inevitably happen to him and it would be my fault. And I couldn’t let that happen.

  Ironic, isn't it? Because after I rejected him-left him- it was like we weren't the same. We drifted apart and I ended up losing him anyway. I started drinking more and more, staying out whenever I could and hanging out with Kennedy every night. He would take me out for drinks and dinner, lather me in compliments and fuck me every single time we were together. He was my drug to escape the pain and I was his addict.

  The first time caught me by surprise. We had both been drinking Patrón and his fingers started grazi
ng my leg as we talked. Which then turned into him leaning closer and pulling me in for a kiss, when he asked if we could go to his car my stomach tightened in a knot but I swallowed another shot and let him lead the way. We ended up having sex right there, in the club parking lot, in his car. He drove me home telling me he'd see me tomorrow and the second I got inside I took a hot shower and cried myself to sleep.

  The next couple of months went just the same. Kennedy would take me out for drinks, caress my body or tell me how much he needed me and we'd end up sleeping together.

  After about five months of our routine, Kennedy was pretty much living in my apartment with me-Anna having practically moved in with her boyfriend. He would walk me to my door, push his way inside or convince me that he could make me forget everything by us sleeping together and then he’d leave. Only some nights he’d stay over and wake me up several times during my sleep with his cock already buried deep inside me.

  It wasn't until month six of us being together that he first put his hands on me. I remember Jesse had texted me after three months of silence, saying he was going to be in town and wanted to see me. Kennedy caught wind of my smile when I read the text. We were sitting at the countertop and he snatched the phone from my hand reading the message. I had tried to explain that Jesse and I were just friends and I'd known him practically my whole life but it didn't matter.

  The next thing I knew the phone was being hurdled at my face. It just missed me, grazing my cheek but looking back sometimes I wish it didn't. Sometimes I wonder that if it actually did hit me, would it have been enough for me to leave that day? Kennedy had gone on a rampage. Screaming and yelling. His face red with fury as he stomped on my phone, shattering it even more, as if the damage from it hitting the wall didn't already obliterate it. He wanted to showcase just how angry he was at me for attempting to see another man. He grabbed me by the throat, pushed me against the fridge and held me up high so that my feet were dangling.