Page 74 of Fight For Us
I squirted some shampoo into my hand and took my time lathering and rinsing, thinking of all the ways I wanted to explore with Wes. I loved how he let me take charge. After what happened to me when I was seventeen, that was the only way I was able to be intimate. Not that I’d had much experience. There were a few hookups with this single dad I’d met at Alex’spreschool, but that ended as soon as his ex took him back. I liked him enough, but I never felt truly comfortable with him. I knew I needed to have sex again and get it out of the way, and he was there and willing.
I soaped up my body, taking extra care to wash my sensitive areas. Maybe I could open up to Wes tonight. Tell him that I’d been assaulted by Alex’s father and I had no clue who he was. God, I wanted to share that so badly, but something held me back. Even though he said he was a broken man last night, I didn’t know how he’d react hearing how truly broken I was. Damaged. Barely holding on some days.
My mood turned dark as I stared at the wall, watching as the drops of water collecting on the tile turned to misshapen blobs before slowly sliding down to the drain.
I closed my eyes when they turned red.
Why are my legs like ice? It's cold… too cold. Robins are singing their familiar morning call. I guess I left my window open last night. I pry my eyes open and instantly shut them against the assault of sunlight streaming through an opening in the trees. Trees? Where am I? My temples are throbbing, but I force a breath and open my eyes again, this time shielding them with the back of my hand.
I'm lying next to a huge evergreen in a dense forest. Dew covered patches of grass create a pillow under my head and the smell of damp earth overwhelms my senses. Pushing forward onto my forearms, I scan the area for people… anyone who could tell me what's going on, but my head starts to spin so I quickly roll to my side, retching andemptying the contents of my stomach into the grass.
I curl myself into a ball, hugging my arms to my chest and rubbing them to get warm. Think, Olivia. What's the last thing I can remember? Closing my eyes, flashes of memories drift into my head. Sasha and me showing up at The Hill… the party. There were so many people, not just from our school, but people I’d never seen before. Sasha went off with Craig and I tried to find familiar faces in the groups. It was so dark already… I used the light on my phone to watch my step.
Shit, where is my phone? I feel the dirt around me but my phone and purse aren't there.
I try to remember what happened next, but it's like watching a movie through static. There were these guys and they started talking to me. Their faces are unclear. A red cup… warm beer. And one of them saying, “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”
I push to a sitting position and wait for my head to stop spinning. When I feel like I could stand, I take stock of my body, realizing my core aches almost as badly as my head. My legs are covered in dirt and my shoes are missing, too. I grab hold of the tree and stand on weak legs, taking my time as a wave of nausea hits.
That’s when I see the dried blood on my thighs. Fresh drops dripping down my leg, landing in the dirt like crimson teardrops. Adrenaline spikes through my veins and my pulse shoots up so fast that I slide against the tree so I don't fall.
Whyam I bleeding?
What happened to me?
Knock, knock, knock.“Mom, you almost done? I want to show you the cool drawing Lilly made on my cast.”
I blinked and brought myself back to the present. Alex. Wes. Lilly. I was home and I was safe. “Almost done,” I called.
“Okay!”
I finished up, taking a few more minutes to center myself. Once the holidays were officially over, the first thing I needed to do with my new health insurance was find a therapist in Palm Cove. My life was going too well to jeopardize it by letting my mental health issues take the wheel again. No. I wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Wes and I both worked the morning shift the next day. I’ll admit that it was difficult to focus. We kept staring at each other through the window and making excuses to touch when we were close. At one point, he tried to get me into his office. I would have gone if I didn’t have three tables.
He met me by the server station. “Hey, I got a voicemail a few minutes ago from my tattoo artist reminding me that I have an appointment this evening. I totally forgot about it. I think I made the appointment over the summer.”
I paused refilling the glass in my hand. “Oh, cool. What are you getting done?” I let my eyes rake over the ink peeking outfrom his rolled up sleeves and wondered if there was room anywhere for another piece.
“I have an idea or two. I’ll have to see what he thinks.” The green in his eyes looked extra bright as he smiled. “Would you want to come with me?”
“Aw, do you need me to hold your hand?”
He chuckled and crossed his arms. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m a big baby. You should know that by now.”
I laughed and squeezed his arm. “Of course, I’ll come. I’ll see if your parents wouldn’t mind hanging out with the kids a little longer.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll ask them,” he said, taking out his phone. I watched him slowly type out a text message, biting back the urge to tease him. His phone dinged and he smiled. “She said no problem. That us ‘two lovebirds’ should take our time.”
“She’s the best.” Without caring if anyone could see us, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Let me get back to work.”
The rest of the day dragged, mostly because I couldn’t wait to have more alone time with Wes. We grabbed lunch at a taco shop nearby and made it to his appointment right on time.
The moment I stepped inside, the shop intrigued me. I’d never been in one before and always wondered what they’d be like. Maybe somewhere in my brain I pictured black walls and people screaming in pain while getting poked by intimidating biker dudes. But this place was nothing like that. Artwork hungin frames around the large room and the smell of marijuana lingered in the air. Everything was brightly lit along the burgundy painted walls. There were three stations set up with massage tables and equipment, but only one was occupied when we came in by a woman getting her arm worked on.
Wes introduced me to his artist, Mac, who was anything but intimidating. He looked like your average guy—short-ish hair, dad bod, dressed in cargo shorts and a Fleetwood Mac T-Shirt. He wasn’t completely covered in ink, but had about as many as Wes that I could see. When he shook my hand, I noticed right away that he was gentle and soft spoken.
“Mac, meet my wife Olivia.” Wes rested a palm on my lower back and beamed as he introduced me. I couldn’t help but grin, too.
