Page 85 of Not Broken (Not Broken 1)

She frowned at me. “What? Why would that be better?”

“Isn’t that supposed to help people when they are scared to talk in front of crowds or something? Picturing the audience naked?”

She smiled. “The key part of that statement, Malcolm, is picturing them being naked, not them actually being that way.”

“True, but it would be weird to ask strangers to strip. I, on the other hand, am more than willing to make that sacrifice.”

She leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I appreciate your willingness to help.” Her smile faded. “You promise you won’t leave me?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded. The worry and fear of whatever she wanted to say was evident on her face. She reached for my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine, almost as if she was trying to keep me from running away.

“Sex was a requirement.” She paused, briefly looking up at me before focusing her attention on our joined hands.

I already didn’t like the direction of this conversation, and I prayed I’d be able to keep my emotions in check with whatever she was about to say.

“He wasn’t always...I mean, he didn’t always force me, not in that way. He would sometimes be romantic or—either way, I would respond, react.”

She looked up at me as if she hoped I understood her meaning. I did. Thankful she didn’t want to go into too much detail. I could only handle so much when hearing about her sex life with that bastard.

Ginger pulled her hand free of mine and stood up. She headed directly toward the bar. I swallowed my objection as she pulled a bottle of vodka from the cabinet. She didn’t pour a drink. Instead, her hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle, strangling it.

Getting up, I walked over to her and gently pried her fingers from around the bottle. She turned, hugged me, and buried her face in my chest. I held her until she felt ready to talk again.

“Things got more than a little warped in my head because of that. I hated myself, because despite everything, I would still respond to his touch. I...I started to think I was as twisted as he was, at least on some level. How could I enjoy being with a man like him?”

She paused to take a breath. She looked up at me, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “It’s a strange thing to feel gross in your own skin, but that’s how I’ve felt for a long time. I tried, I tried to tell myself it was just biology, that my body was programmed to react to certain stimuli, but when you’re being told it’s more, that it’s about love and want…” She pulled away, turning her back to me. She again covered her face with her hands. “God, I feel like such an idiot saying these things out loud.”

I placed my hands on her shoulders to make her turn around. She tried to resist, but eventually gave in. I could tell from how she averted her eyes, and the stiffness of her body, that she was embarrassed by what she’d shared.

“You have no reason to feel like an idiot. You can talk to me anytime about anything. Okay?”

She gave me a reluctant nod. “I...I didn’t trust myself. And if I’m really honest, I still don’t a hundred percent. How could I after all of that? How could I know what was real and what was biology? I’m tainted, scarred, and far from desirable. At least that’s how I’ve been perceiving myse

lf until you started making me feel things that I tried to bury deep.” She stopped and smiled. “That was kinda annoying of you.”

I returned her smile. “I do what I can.”

She looked over at the bottle then back at me. “This is all still scary for me. That night, I cried because I could tell the difference. But then the next day, the worry and self-doubt set in. Maybe I’d just imagined it, and I’d only done what I was conditioned to do. On top of that, I felt terrible about throwing myself at you—my self-loathing runs deep, Malcolm. I am my own worst enemy. Every time I think I’ve accepted something, I find a way to pick it apart and put myself back at square one.”

I reached down to stroke her cheek. Ginger closed her eyes as she leaned into my touch.

“You’re not back at square one, Ginger. The fact that you opened up to me about it, even though you were scared to do so, means you’re moving forward.”

She looked at me and smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so. And I’ll keep reminding you, should you forget.”

She looked around the room. “Can we go?”

“Um...sure. I’m getting tired anyway.”

“No. Not to bed, but go as in leave.”

“Sure. Where to?”

“Your place.”

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