Page 101 of Emmy's Ride

I hesitated. My palms were damp, my stomach twisting. I forced myself to meet the therapist’s steady gaze.

“I enjoyed it.” The confession came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “With Javier.”

I clenched my jaw, pushing through the wave of shame. “He made me—he made me touch myself. And I—” My voice cracked, my hands shaking as I rubbed them over my thighs. “I came. How am I supposed to live with that?”

Dr. Foster leaned forward slightly, her demeanor unfailingly calm. “Emmy, what happened to you wasn’t about desire. It was about survival. Your body reacted the way it’s designed to in a moment of powerlessness. That doesn’t make you complicit. It doesn’t mean you wanted it. It means you endured something horrific, and your body found a way to cope. You know theterm is non-concordance. The body reacts to unwanted sexual touches, but the brain doesn’t.”

I shook my head, tears burning behind my eyes. “But I killed him. I shot him, and I didn’t feel a goddamn thing. Shouldn’t I have felt something? Guilt? Remorse?”

“Did you feel relief?” Dr. Foster asked.

I exhaled sharply. Pulling that trigger had felt fucking great. “Yes.”

“That’s normal.” Her tone remained steady. “You were taking your power back. After what he did to you, after what he put you through, your reaction wasn’t evil—it was human. Your orgasm was a physical response to stimulation; it had nothing to do with physical desire or emotions. You’re a therapist; you studied this in school. No matter who tickles you, you’re going to laugh. It’s your body’s natural reaction.”

I let out a shuddering breath, gripping the fabric of my jeans. I knew this, but it was hard from the other side of the therapy chair. The darkness inside me was too loud. “And Austin? How do I look him in the eye, knowing I?—”

“You didn’t betray him,” Dr. Foster interrupted. “What Javier did to you was manipulation. A form of brainwashing.”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know how to get past this.”

“You don’t have to know right now,” Dr. Foster reassured me. “Healing isn’t linear, and it’s not something you have to do alone. Let the people who love you help. Let Austin help.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I keep pushing him away.”

“And he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?”

That hit me hard. He did keep coming back. No matter how many times I pulled away, shut down—Austin wouldn’t let me drown.

Dr. Foster smiled softly. “You love him?”

I swallowed and nodded. “More than anything.”

“Then let him in.”

The words echoed in my head as I left the office. I wasn’t sure I could, but… I could try.

Austin was in the waiting room, looking much too large for the delicate chair he was sitting in. Dr. Foster wanted to meet with me the first time in her office, and Austin agreed as long as he brought me. I was fine with that.

He took my hand and walked me out the door. “How was your appointment?”

I knew the process. “It was a good start. I think we’re going to work well together.”

“That’s good. I’m here for you, Em. Whatever you need.”

I tried to smile, but my lips just wouldn’t follow through. “Thank you. But this is something I need to do on my own.”

He opened the passenger side door of the truck and helped me in. Once he got in, before he started the truck, he turned to me. “Do you mind if I take you somewhere? It’s private. There will just be you and me. There’s something I want you to see.”

Surprises. I wasn’t sure I liked them anymore, but I nodded my consent.

Thirty minutes later, I stepped out of the truck, drinking in the breathtaking view before me. The house—no, the mansion—was something out of a dream. A wraparound porch framed the grand structure, its white columns standing tall against the afternoon sun. Rolling pastures stretched beyond the back yard where horses ran freely, their dark coats gleaming in the light. A large stable sat in the distance, the wooden structure blending seamlessly into the picturesque landscape.

I turned to Austin, my curiosity piqued. “Why did you bring me here?”

Austin shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced at the house, his jaw tight with an emotion I couldn’t quite identify.

“Because this place means something to me,” he said finally. “It belonged to my grandfather. My mom grew up here, but when she got with my old man, she left. She left this life behind, and my grandfather never approved of my dad. For good reason.” His lips pressed together. “But she used to bring me here when I was a kid. Some of my best memories are in this house.”

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