Page 21 of Our Shattered Pieces
Though things had worked out in my favor-thanks to my brother-I wanted to be the type of person who was capable of learning her lesson.
To hell with trust.
Every man after Ethan had paid for his sins, and I have never given any of them more than I felt safe giving. I made missionary work. I made clean sex work. I made chaste kisses work. I made itallwork. I had no choice.
Especially, now.
As the face of a charitable organization that championed women, how would it look if it got out that I got off on a man cumming on my face while he called me a good slut for it? For all that women have accomplished, and for as far as we’ve come, sexual liberation was still a pipe dream. Men couldn’t handle knowing that other men have been where they were, though complete hypocrisy. And women were too insecure and catty to not care that another woman was sexually open. Because, after all, a sexually open woman could be perceived as a threat to her missionary-style marriage.
So, I dated if I was so inclined, and if it went as far as sleeping with each other, I let the man lead, and because I was Molly Cavanaugh of the Chicago Cavanaughs and Lorcan Cavanaugh’s sister, no one has ever dared to go deeper into sexual play, lest they accidentally offend me, and I sic Lorcan on them.
But was I happy?
I was.
I had a loving family, the best brother in the world, a great job, new friends in Rowan and Mystic Evans, and an entire future of calling my own shots.
Hell yeah, I was happy.
And as for a husband and kids? If they never came to be, that’d be okay. I had no problem being the best aunt ever to my brother’s kids.
Chapter 16
Grayson~
Ionly had one month to regroup and recharge.
Everyone thought being a teacher was cake with summer being the icing on that cake, but it wasn’t. Especially, when I was a football coach on top of being a teacher. During winter break, I still had to work with the football team since December was always playoffs and championship season for high school.
And spring break was another myth where people assumed teachers were kicking their feet up on a beach somewhere with a strawberry daiquiri in their hands. Now while I couldn’t speak for other teachers, my spring break was spent wrapping things up for the year. I taught seniors, so a lot of the time, I worked with the ones who were close to failing graduation.
And as for summer, I had one month because, again, I was a football coach, too. Come July, I started reliving the year before, looking for improvements, and going over my team and trying to figure out how to mix new players in with the ones I already had. It was a delicate dance, and I was the dance instructor.
So, I had only one month to be a lazy fuck, and I cherished the shit out of that one month.
Five blessed weeks.
After graduation, I had moved back home to California, and had taught there for a while. But when word of my kinship with my students and, especially, my football team started getting around, I had been recruited by Halston High School in Chicago, and it had been a no-brainer. After all, Rowan had been living in Chicago.
Besides, there was also the fact that being back in my hometown, every day had been a risk to my livelihood. Every day, there was a chance I’d run into Paul Connors, and it was never a guarantee that I wouldn’t put my hands on him.
So, moving to Chicago had helped on two fronts. Firstly, I could be near Rowan. Never again would I be clear across the country if she needed my help again. Secondly, I could live my life without the threat of going to jail every day.
There was also that Halston High had one of the best football programs in the country, and after touring the campus, it had felt like the perfect fit.
It had felt like I could finally breathe again.
Of course, leaving my students had been hard as fuck, but it was a decision I’ve never regretted. Especially, now, seeing my sister so fucking happy, and being close enough to witness it as a real thing and not the façade she’s put up for years.
As for me, I’d done the whole counseling thing at the behest of my parents, but it hadn’t been as awful as I had anticipated. Did it help? Somewhat. It helped me work through my guilt issues where Rowan was concerned, but every now and again, memories would play havoc on my progress, and I had to remind myself that my sister was okay. Going through some issues, maybe, but things could have been a lot worse.
As for the anger management side of it, I hadn’t and still didn’t think that I had needed it. I’ve never had a quick temper. My temper has always been slow and steady with a fighting chance of common-sense prevailing. However, once I reached my limit, I wasn’t afraid to form a fist and go with it. But I was pretty sure it was like that with all people, men and women. Not being afraid of a verbal altercation turning into a physical one didn’t necessarily mean I needed anger management.
Besides, Paul Connors had what I’d done to him coming.
And a lot worse.
Now, my sexual appetites were something completely different. Counseling hadn’t help me work through the need to call a woman a slut while I was balls-deep inside her. It also hadn’t help me deal with the guilt of enjoying something that I had associated with disrespect. Even if the woman enjoyed it, too, I had still wrestled with it.
