“You’re sneaky, Van. I hope they don’t catch onto what you’re doing,” I state. “Because our guys are not good losers and they’ll take what you’re doing as a direct challenge.”
Her eyes hold mine as she contemplates what I said. “Even if they cotton onto what I’m doing, they’ll just start a new game. But I’m wise to their ways so I’ll be watching for it…ifit happens.”
“The guys are far smarter than you’re giving them credit for,” I remind them. “Make sure you’re aware of their every move and don’t call their bluff.”
The men are so damn competitive that I worry sometimes that they’ll take their paybacks too far and someone will end up with more than a skinned knee. It’s like my grade schoolteacher used to preach—once you shoot that arrow, there’s no bringing it back. It’s not a boomerang, it’s shot from a bow so it won’t return back to you.
Indiana and Zoey left for their trip, and even though they struggled to leave Elodie behind with all that she’s going through, they eventually did after some coaxing from me. I think my man knows what’s been happening with his princess because he never lets her out of his sight and they’re always sneaking into a corner to have a pow wow. I’ve let them do their thing because she needs the support and he needs to give it to her. She’s his best bud and vice versa. They were already glued at the hip, butnowadays, they’re like Siamese twins, anchored together from top to bottom without any space in between.
My Viking and I still have separate bedrooms, he’s giving me the time I need to come to terms with any sort of sexual encounter. I’ve been seeing a therapist weekly via a teleconference connection that Booker helped me set up because I’m computer illiterate, but I haven’t been able to climb over that hump from my sexual assault at the hands of those Onyx motherfuckers. Even though I have desires and needs like every other woman out there, something stops me when things between my Viking and me get hot and heavy.
It’s not that I don’t want him because I do—desperately.
There’s a spark and a butt load of chemistry between us, but when my body is no longer in control and my mind joins the party, I freeze and begin to shake. Recalling their hands on me and the vile things they spouted resurfaces, it makes my stomach turn and I get a case of the cold chills. I never seem to be able to warm myself up, not even a hot shower helps regulate my core body temperature.
My frustration is now frustrated.
When I voiced my concerns the other night, worried that he wouldn’t stick around and give my mind the chance to catch up with my body, he told me,“Letti. Goddess. I’m not a boy who’s ruled by his dick. I’m a grown motherfucking man. There’s more to you and me than a roll between the sheets. You make me a better man. You have shown me that there’s more to life than how I was living. I don’t need your body to make me feel whole, baby. I simply need you in my life, however you feel comfortable being there.”
With his support, I know that one day I’ll get there.
He has the patience of a saint with me and I have never been more grateful for someone to be in my life than I am for the gift that he has given me—himself. I know that when my mind eventually heals, he and I will be fire together. The world will burn down around us when that day comes and I can only cross my fingers that someone will be close by with an extinguisher to put out the flames.
That’s if we don’t burn everything down that’s in close proximity to us. The odds of thatnothappening aren’t in our favor. Every time he touches me, grazes me, my skin ignites and sizzles. What I wouldn’t give to find a time machine, turn back time, and find him before that gang of misfits found me. Yeah, I’d seen him out and about but I didn’t think someone like him would be interested in someone like me.
He calls me a goddess but I’m well-aware that it’s more emotional based than my outside appearance. At least, that’s what I think when I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I do not see what he claims to see when he looks at me, but skunks can’t smell their own odor either so maybe it’s his truth and the way he sees me.
My therapist says that I have put the misgivings of others onto my shoulders and have adopted the evil things that have been said to me for as long as I can remember. My mother’s cold voice always manages to penetrate my mind whenever I start feeling good about myself.
Whenever I feel pretty, I remember her referring to me as the ugly duckling. Whenever I feel tall, I remember the teasing of my short legs and torso. It’s a win-lose situation. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
Stepping out of the shower, I wipe the fog off the mirrors and stare at myself. I follow Mrs. Johanson, my therapist’s recommendation, telling my mirror image. “You are pretty, Letti. You’re smart, worthy, strong, and capable. Don’t let those who tried to take you down win. You’ve got this.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Icer
I just got backfrom dropping Elodie off at Riptide’s so Van can homeschool Elodie and so she doesn’t fall behind the peers of her grade level. When we find her a full time tutor and bring her onboard, my princess won’t have to play catch up and struggle so much and be on even ground with her classmates. I didn’t grab little G because he’s spending the day with Rip so we’re kid free for the next six hours. And I plan on taking advantage of it.
When I came in, I heard the shower running from the master suite so I ran and jumped into mine, hoping that today, Letti and I could catch up. I love having my princess here, but I feel like she takes up most of my time dealing with the trauma from her old schoolmates which means I’ve neglected my woman.
As I pass by the master bedroom after the quickest shower I could manage in the guest bathroom, tossing on some comfortable, lounging clothes, I overhear her talking to herself, and what she says has my shoulders deflating.
“You are pretty, Letti. You’re smart, worthy, strong, and capable. Don’t let those who tried to take you down win. You’ve got this.”
I know that trauma. I’ve lived my own version of it. I know why she’s giving herself a pep talk, but it still angers me. We may not have been able to trace and locate her siblings, but we did manage to find the rest of her lowlife family members. They’re a canker sore, a dredge on society that I plan on having removed. As a matter of fact, Booker’s already got things in the works, and soon, they won’t have a pot to piss in let alone that shack they’ve been holing up in. I will be the one to huff and puff and blow it down, just like the big, bad wolf in that kid’s fairytale story.
My woman will no longer have to fear them. I’ll be damned if she’s looking over her shoulders because she’s scared they’ll come up behind her. I may not be able to meet her emotional needs but I sure as fuck can eliminate her physical threats.
Walking down the hallway with purpose, I order us some lunch and text Booker for an update. The sooner I can tell Letti her past has been eliminated the sooner she may be able to put her demons to rest. I know when I took out my dad it helped me tremendously. I no longer had to sneak around and could walk through the clubhouse with my head held high. That’s when my papa started passing down his knowledge and training so that I could take my rightful place in the Kings. I may not be able to do that for my goddess, but I’ll be able to help her in other ways. Ways that if the shoe was on the other foot would be miraculous to my frame of mind. I wish others would’ve been able to do the things for me that I plan on doing for my woman. Fuck knows it would’ve alleviated a lot of my stress and the way I used to either shut down or act out. I’m nowhere near where I probably shouldbe, but Icanhave actual conversations with others now, which is definitely an improvement.
I need some advice on how to show Letti that she’s beautiful, both on the inside and outside. Her self-esteem has taken a brutal hit more than once and now she’s struggling to see her inner and outer self-shine. I’m not sure my brothers could help me with this task so I put the phone to my ear, step out onto my back porch, and call Van. I’m wholly convinced she’ll have an idea or two about how I can force my goddess’ hand and make her see herself the way we all do.
“Icer. Everything okay?”
“Why does everybody jump to the conclusion that something’s wrong when I phone them?” I ask her, hating it.
