Page 35 of Bound by Affliction
14
Leah
“Let me do those,”I say, lightly pushing Green out of the way from the sink with myhip.
He chuckles, “Baby, you want to do dishes, go forit.”
It’s not that I want to do dishes, it’s that I need to. Green has been wonderful, but he does everything and that needs to stop. Not that I don’t like it, but I need to be doing more aroundhere.
Therapy isn’t what I envisioned. I thought I’d be sitting in a sterile room, laying on a couch, and a woman dressed in all black, stylish glasses, with a clipboard would judge every single move I made. That she would critique me and be on my ass when I said something she didn’t agree with. Overall, I thought I’d hate it. Really hateit.
Surprisingly, it’s not bad. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but I’m learning and that’s what matters. One major step, my therapist says, is taking control of my life in simple things like doing the dishes, folding the laundry or cleaning the house. She says once I do that, then we move on to biggerthings.
That means I’m standing here doing the dishes. It’s something so damn simple and before I did it all the time. But it makes me feel in control as weird as thatsounds.
I yank my sleeves up past my elbows and dip my hands into the sudsy water. It feels good on my hands as I wash all the grime away from the dishes leaving them clean, exactly what I want to be—clean.
After finishing, I grab a towel and dry off my hands and arms, feeling accomplished. It’s not much, don’t get me wrong, but it’s something and I’ll take it. When I turn, Green is standing there with intense eyes. I follow his gaze and that’s when I notice what Idid.
My arms are exposed, revealing some small scars and some larger ones. I move to pull my shirt down, but he grabs my arm gently and pulls it to his lips. They fall on one of the scars, and he kisses it. Inside, my chest constricts as he continues to kiss my arm in every place they touched me. When he’s done with that hand and arm, he moves to theother.
All the while silent cleansing tears fall from my eyes.He doesn’t see me as dirty.If he did, he wouldn’t be kissing my skin. I watch in avid fascination as he takes his time relishing each scar and making my entire bodytingle.
He kisses the inside of my palm, holds it and gets inches away from me. “Scars mean you survived and, baby, you did. There’s no need to hide from me. I’ll kiss every part of your body if it makes you have that look in your eyes you have right now. Please don’t hide from me, baby.” His voice is down to a whisper. My heart beats rapidly, thumping in my ears. I grasp him behind the neck and pull his lips down to mine. He needs no more invitation and quickly kisses meback.
We part and press our foreheads together. “Don’t hide from me,” hepleads.
“I’mtrying.”
“Damn right you are. And I’ll kiss every single one of those all over you, over and over again until you realize for yourself how beautiful youare.”
With everything going on, it kind of slipped my mind that Green and I were actually starting something. Or had started something. I’ve been too wrapped up in my pain to see it, but my eyes are opening wider and Green is a wonderfulman.
I’m not sure what I did to deserve him; who the hell am I kidding because I don’t, but I’m thankful. I’m thankful I’m alive, in his arms with him looking at me like I’m the best thing on the planet. Having that look directed at me is enough of a reason to keep pushing through. Not only for him, but formyself.
* * *
“What the hell are you doin’?”Green asks, coming out of the bathroom while I sit on the floor, eyes closed, legs and arms in all differentdirections.
“Yoga. It’s supposed to calm and soothe, but all I’ve got so far is a strainedmuscle.”
He chuckles as I watch the woman on my laptop lay on her stomach and touch her head to her feet. Yeah, I’m not that limber. There’s going to be a hell of a lot more stretching before I’m doing anything likethat.
“Need me to rubit?”
A blush creeps into my cheeks. For weeks, this man has been so patient with me, there is no way I’ll ever be able to repay him. Not that he’d take it anyway. I don’t answer and try the movement gettingnowhere.
“This is gonna be fun to watch,” he says, taking a seat on the couch, full attention onme.
“You staring at me is not going to make me calm andsoothe.”
He grins that sexy side one that squints his eye. “And turning yourself into a tortured pretzel is going to doit?”
No, it totally isn’t. My therapist, Anne, told me it would help me focus and gain control over my body. Me, I’m thinking I need kickboxing or something where I move to get my control back. But I’m trying it, there’s nothing that says I have to stick withit.
“Yep.” I pop the ‘p’ on the end with emphasis even though I have no idea if itwill.
“Then keep atit.”
