I wasn’t her.
I was Race—the tough chick that people cowered in front of, the one who bossed people around and exuded confidence. Not the girl who needed a door to hold myself up as I found the strength to take another step.
I glanced at the clock on the wall behind my desk, realizing I had two hours before the meeting with Mr. Emerson. Maybe I’d feel different if I immersed myself in my work, letting my mind focus only on the task at hand.
It’ll only be tough for the first day.
If I could only get through this day, tomorrow would be easier. Just one day. Just like my therapist had told me.
Even over the last four weeks, small tasks had become simpler and I’d found myself feeling like I had before the attack. But that was at home, running to the store, or spending time with Morgan.
Coming back to work was like starting again at square one. I had to take baby steps to become the kickass businesswoman I had always been.
I was Race True.
Strong.
Smart.
Feared.
“Race.” Cara’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door as she knocked.
I pushed off the door and strode toward my desk as I tossed my purse on the couch. “Come in,” I replied, running my fingers against the cool glass of the desktop.
Cara entered. After taking two steps, she stopped. “What’s wrong?” she asked with a frown.
“Nothing, Cara,” I replied, glancing out the window.
“Come on now. I can always tell when there’s something you aren’t saying,” she said as she walked toward her usual chair.
“I just don’t feel at home here anymore.” I sat down, testing my chair as I rocked back and forth.
“You were meant for bigger things,” Cara said as she looked around. “You weren’t meant to be cooped up in a place like this. You should be running your own company.”
“Now you’re just being silly, Cara.” I sighed as I leaned back in my chair, thinking about what she’d said. “What’s my schedule today?”
She stared down at her legal pad, tapping her pencil against the surface. “It’s pretty light. I didn’t want to overburden you today.” She glanced up at me.
I returned her smile, though mine was less believable. “Thanks. What’s first?”
“You have a meeting with Sue in development at ten and Mr. Emerson at eleven. Your afternoon is free because I didn’t know if you’d make it a full day,” she said, peering down at the paper.
“I think I’m just nervous about meeting with Emerson. I’ll feel better when that’s over, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure,” she repeated, standing from the chair. “Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?” she asked as she strolled toward the door.
“That would be lovely, Cara.”
“Coming right up, Ms. True.”
With that, she disappeared.
Maybe a little kick of caffeine would have me feeling like my old self again. Or after I listened to Sue drone on for an hour, I’d be so bored and annoyed I’d want to throat-punch someone.
It had been a long time since I’d felt that fire burn deep in my belly. The old me had it smoldering, ready to explode at any moment.
I turned my computer on, ready to bury myself in my work and find the slow burn again. I wouldn’t let them defeat me.
