Page 21 of Affliction

Chapter Twelve

Mia

A free afternoon wasn’t something I was accustomed to. It seemed strange to be out on the streets of Los Angeles this early. Typically, I never left the office until after six o’clock. Deciding not to waste my time, I grabbed my cell and started dialing.

“Hello there, my dear,” the man on the other end of the phone purred.

“Hey, you,” I answered warmly.

“What do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected phone call?” Bryce asked playfully.

“Well, love, I was able to leave work early, and I thought that maybe I could stop by and see you if you weren’t doing anything. Do you have any room for me today?”

“I can always make some time for you. Especially since this was your big day and all.”

I smiled. He remembered. It’d been a few days since we spoke, but he remembered that the photo shoot and interview were today.

In no time at all, I was making my way into a sleek modern restaurant called Dive. It was just as stylish as the man who owned it. Large glass doors welcomed you into the establishment, and it was decorated in black and silvers with dark accents of red.

Dive was a great evening restaurant and bar that catered to creative types with its inventive menu and overflowing lists of cocktails and wine selections. It was smart and sexy. Ever since I met Bryce, Dive had offered me a refuge from my past and the pressures that came with being alone in a city that seemed to be full of people in love lately.

Once I had healed enough and opened up to Bryce, we became fast friends—and sometimes more than that. The fact that he owned a great restaurant that fed me on the house didn’t hurt, either.

Bryce made his way toward me, arms stretched out, ready to engulf me in a hug. I still couldn’t get over the man. He had brown hair that he’d pieced out to stand on end in different directions. It looked effortless, but it took him a while to do; it suited him perfectly. I loved the way the front sometimes fell to his eyes, while the back was short and contained. His expressive chocolate-brown eyes and swimmer’s body pulled me into him. I smiled at the feeling of being in this man’s arms. He always dressed immaculately. I enjoyed the sight before me: his tight black T-shirt clinging to the muscles of his abdomen and arms. His long legs moving freely in his dark-gray dress slacks that looked like they were custom made just for him. Bryce looked almost edible as he made his way toward me. At times, I couldn’t believe he hadn’t been snatched up yet. Or that he spent the majority of his free time with me, helping both of us cope and scratch an itch.

We met shortly after I had gotten out of a bad relationship and was forced to seek counseling. I tried the independent route, but I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the way the therapist would stare at me. I knew it was his job, but I often felt like he was leering at me or judging me for what I said. It always seemed like he thought I was weak because I let it happen—like it was something I could control. I tried several other therapists and found that I couldn’t connect with any of them.

The woman who owned the shelter I had fled to that fateful night told me about a woman who ran group sessions for survivors of abuse. She encouraged me to go check it out and see how I liked it. And that’s where I met Bryce. He was what made me continue to come back to the group. It wasn’t his looks that had drawn me in—not that they hurt—but it was the way he made me feel like it was okay that I didn’t want to talk. He put me at ease, which said a lot for his character considering all I had been through. And when I was finally ready to talk to him after a group session one day, he held me while I cried and bared my soul. When it was all over, he took my hand, led me out of the community room, and told me he was going to show me the world.

It made me laugh—my first real laugh in a long time. His notion of the world and how we fit into it together saved me in a way I never thought possible. Sure, it was great to have Ally in my life. I knew I could open up to her. But something about Bryce and the fact that we had both lived through horrors and survived them created a strong bond that I didn’t have with anyone else. And I doubted I ever would.

Bryce was a victim of abuse too, but his was a bit different than mine. He suffered abuse at the hands of his father. It began when he was just a child and continued right up until his seventeenth birthday, when Bryce shot him.

“Hey, sweetie. Everything go okay today?” Bryce asked, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

“Yes?” I answered him. “No. I don’t know.”

“Breathe,” Bryce told me while rubbing my back as he held me. “Do you need a drink?”

“A drink and so much more,” I said, smiling at him.

“Well, lucky for you, I took the evening off to be with you. Did things not go as you hoped?”

“Terry was my photographer,” was all I could say.

Bryce scrubbed a hand down his face, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Oh, damn. Okay, let’s take this party somewhere more private. Let me just talk to Noah, and we’ll be out of here.” With that, Bryce kissed my forehead and was off in search of his business partner.

* * *

Once we were at Bryce’s apartment, he opened a bottle of wine and poured me a glass. He brought it over to the couch, where I always sat.

“So tell me,” he said. “How does he look?”

I giggled at my bi-curious friend. “He looks good.” I swallowed a large gulp of the wine. I enjoyed the way the full-bodied red slid down my throat.

Bryce snickered at my words. “Does he now?”

My cheeks flushed and guilt filled my gut. His eyes weren’t meeting mine, and his smile wasn’t as wide and warm as it had been when he first saw me.

---