Stuck in rush hour traffic on a Monday morning is not where I wanted to have this conversation. But after an hour-long session with the therapist turned into two, we’ve been unable to look each other in the eye. My stomach pitches. I had no idea how much she knew. I thought I’d hidden the worst of it. I was wrong.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Her gaze remains steady out the passenger side window. She doesn’t respond.
“That must have been…” Difficult? Agonizing? Mortifying? My grip on the steering wheel tightens, my knuckles paling with anger. He promised me she couldn’t hear. Now I know that she was angry that I didn’t leave years ago, to protect her from having to experience that. And all this time I thought I was doing what was best for her, when really I did the most damage by staying.
The truck inches along the clogged freeway. I check the clock. “You’re going to be about forty-five minutes late. Do I need to sign you in?”
“No.” She looks out the front window.
I take a deep breath. There’s so much to say, so much to confess, but where to start? “I’m sorry I let that go on as long as it did.”
That gets me her eyes for a few seconds before she goes back to staring out the window.
“If I’d have known that you… you… heard, um, that—”
“Dad raping you.”
I suck in a painful gasp at the lifeless way she mutters those disgusting words.
“I wouldn’t call it that, I mean… that’s something that happens between strangers and—”
“Oh my gosh, Mom.” She glares at me. “Just say it. He raped you.”
I swallow hard and shake my head.
She thrusts her hands into her hair. “This is what I’m talking about. How can we get through something you can’t even admit?”
“I’m sick about what happened. If I’d have known then—”
“It’s over. All that is over. But you’re never going to be able to work it out if you can’t even admit it happened.”
“I hate that we did this to you.”
“I hate him. I always have, far back as I can remember. All those times you asked me if I was upset about leaving, I wanted to scream that I’ve never been so glad to be gone. I hated our life in Seattle.”
“So that whole time I thought you were pissed that we left, when really…”
She sets her crystal-blue eyes on mine. “I was pissed we never talked about why we left. It was like we left living one lie to go live another.”
I take a moment to let that sink in. She’s right. Accepting what was really happening was one thing, but talking to her about it seemed wrong on so many levels. That was before I found out that she already knew.
I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “You’re very wise. From here on out, no more secrets, okay? We talk about anything and everything. No judgment.”
She squeezes my hand back. “That sounds good to me.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
With a secure bridge built between us, the knot in my chest eases up. She’s almost seventeen, and with her life experiences, she’s a lot older than that. I’ve always tried to protect her like I would a child. But it’s clear she’s blossomed into a woman.
“What did you need to talk to me about?” she says, still holding my hand.
I retrace our morning and the afternoon before. We’d spent Sunday afternoon cleaning the apartment, grocery shopping, and doing laundry for the week. I’d mentioned that I had to talk to her about something. More like someone.
“Yeah, I uh… what do you think about Blake?” I try to keep my voice casual.
“I like him. He’s super cool, funny, cooks really good food.” She shrugs. “He’s good looking. I mean, what’s not to like?”
“What would you say if I told you that I agree?”
“I’d say that’s good, because if you didn’t I’d think something was seriously wrong with you.” She giggles.
“Okay, and what would you say if I told you I like him? A lot. And he likes me too?”
She cocks her eyebrow at me and smiles. “I’d say, no shit, Sherlock. Welcome to the party.”
“What?”
“Oh please, Mom. It’s so obvious. You guys are both all goo-goo eyed when you’re together.”
“We are not.”
“You so are.”
I laugh and think this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a long time. “We’re kind of…”
“Dating?” She smiles big, and her eyes sparkle.
“Yeah, er… if you’re okay with that.”
“You’re dating Blake “The Snake” Daniels, and you want to know if I’m okay with it?” Her high-pitched squeal fills the truck’s cab.
“Is that a yes?” I laugh.
“Hell yeah, it’s a yes! Killian is going to freak out when I tell him.”
I shake my head and wrestle against a grin.
Who knew a little honesty and communication could change our future outlook? It doesn’t mean that we’re fixed. But healing is ahead, and we’ve just taken one step closer to it.
Blake
“Take him down.”
“Get his leg, slam him.”
“There it is. Down, down, down.”
The shouted instruction from my camp pushes me on. Rex attempts to lock my legs. I’ve got half-guard and side control. He wants me off. Good luck.
Constricting my legs, I elbow his headgear. “Tap, bitch.”
The fucker laughs. “In your dreams.” He tries to land a punch to my head.
I tighten my hold. “If this was a dream, you’d be a lot prettier and have bigger tits.”
He pushes off the mat, forcing my arm to let go. I rear up, slam him back, and get full-guard. I can’t believe how strong I feel. My muscles are pulled taut, with energy to burn. The fight with “The Fade” is setting up to be the best of my life. I’ve never been so ready. As prepared mentally as I am physically. And Layla there cheering me on is going to push me past the point of excellence.
“All right, boys. Back to your feet. Let’s work on take downs,” Owen calls out from across the octagon.
We jump up and fist bump before we take our fighting stance. The shouts from Jonah and Caleb beyond the chain link resume. I’m focused on Rex, waiting for him to lunge or attempt to sweep my legs.
Sparring is my favorite part of training. It’s my chance to get in the octagon and put all the pieces together. To use the different fighting skills as an integrated weapon. And with my fight around the corner, spars like this are a dress rehearsal.
Seeing my opening, I lunge. My shoulder hits his thigh, and he buckles. Dropping to my knees, I flip him to his back and get the full-mount.
“Way to go, Blake.” The female voice, shouting encouragement, robs my attention. I look up to see Layla standing with the guys, her fingers curled around the fence, a wide smile on her face. Fuck, I’ve missed—my head slams to the side. The powerful punch to my headgear makes my brain sing. Damn.
“Who’s dreaming now, lover boy?” Rex throws me to my back, grinning.
“Ha ha, assface. Now get the fuck off me.” I shove him back, and he rolls to his feet. I pull my headgear off and move toward my now worried-looking girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Owen throws his hands in the air. “Looks like Blake’s callin’ a time out. Five minutes and we’re back at it.”
I ignore him. I haven’t seen my Mouse since Sunday morning when she left after we had breakfast and a seriously hot naked clean-up session in my kitchen. No way I’m rushing through this. I step up to her from the opposite side of the dividing fence. She grips at it impatiently.
“Mouse.” I hook my fingers over hers.
“Hi.” Her whispered greeting comes with a smile.