I took the notebook from her, remembering when I used to journal in junior high school. It helped me get all my anxieties out. “Thank you,” I murmured. “Organizing my thoughts might help me feel like I’m having a coherent conversation instead of just rambling.”
“Try it for a week,” she told me with an encouraging smile. “Then we’ll talk about whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”
“I used to keep a journal in high school. It was a great way to deal with stress.”
“Trauma is just stress to the tenth power,” she explained. “If it helped you before, it will probably help you again. Going back to a strategy that worked for you in the past is easier than learning something new.”
I nodded.
“I’ll give you my card. If at any time you feel unsafe call me. Everything we’ve spoken about today is strictly confidential, but if you need me to contact the authorities on your behalf, I will.”
I looked down at the notebook with swirling oceans and beautiful dolphins swimming around on the cover. Elizabeth was right about journaling and about her being able to help me. I could see that now. I’ve been struggling through impossibly difficult situations with grit and determination. There was too much going on in my life to muscle through by myself. This was my chance to do one better. Deep down inside, I knew this was worth a shot.
***
After my therapy session, I felt lighter and more hopeful about my future. I’d gone in ready to hate the whole experience but walked out ready to break out a pen and get to writing in the journal she gave me. Elizabeth had been every bit as good as Fuse said she was. She not only knew how to talk to people, but she also knew how to listen, when to push, and when to hold back.
Fuse was waiting at the end of the hallway, leaning with one shoulder against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge. He had a look of cautious excitement on his face. My heart melted a little to see this handsome man waiting on me.
“How’d it go? Did you like the therapist?” Pushing off the wall, he walked towards me as he spoke.
“It went really well.” I reached for him first and threw my arms around him out of sheer relief. “You did a good job by hooking me up with Elizabeth. She’s amazing.”
He pulled me in for a tight hug and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. Suddenly, I was surrounded by the feeling of his hard muscles and the scent of his body. He was all leather and musk. A flood of pleasure flashed through my body at being so close to him. I wasn’t expecting to have such a strong reaction to him.
“I’m glad to hear it. You did good,” he assured me, pulling back. “I got you something special to celebrate.”
I hadn’t believed him because the men in my life had never really come through for me. When they did, their gifts usually came with strings. I didn’t think Fuse fell into that category, so when he led me to the back of the bar area, I happily went with him. We stopped at a table against the wall where a young teen was sitting with a big box that had breathing holes punched in the sides. Excitement spiked in my mind because I knew what that meant, some kind of pet.
The box moved and tiny mews floated up to my ears. They were sweet, precious sounds, so I knew they were kittens. Excitement hit me hard and fast because I’d always wanted a pet.
I turned back to look at Fuse.
“You got me kittens!”
He looked pleased with himself as he gestured towards the box. “You can pick any kitten you want,” he said. “Unless you’re not really a cat person.”
The teen spoke up immediately. “There’s no such thing as not a cat person,” she insisted before I could get a word out either way. She stood up, smoothed her t-shirt down, and extended her hand to me. “My name’s Kayla. I’m a friend of Dusty’s. Since she’s away in college, I’m the local crazy cat lady.”
I laughed at that. I hadn’t met Dusty, but I’d heard about her. She was Celt’s daughter and ran a cat rescue organization. Shaking her hand, I responded, “I’m Winter. Just so you know, you don’t have to convince me. I love cats.”
I moved closer and peered down into the box of cute, wiggling fun. There were five kittens and each was adorable in its own way. They were so sweet that it was impossible to choose.
Fuse lifted one from the box for me to look at. “This tortoiseshell is nice.” Before I could grab and take the cute little kitten from him, it hissed and sunk its claws in Fuse’s hand, drawing blood.
Someone hissed from across the room, “Never trust a tortie, they’re furry psychopaths.”
The teen shot the man a dirty look and stated sternly, “They’re spirited. That’s all.”
Turning back to me, she encouraged me to keep looking. “How about you take a look at the others? There’s no pressure. I like to think the right kitten will find you, rather than you finding it. When that happens, it’s magical.”
Peering into the box, I asked, “What else do we have in here?”
Fuse quickly reached into the box and pulled out a black tuxedo kitten. When he handed the cute little bundle of fur to me, it tumbled effortlessly from his arms to mine.
Kayla peered at me with open curiosity. “Fuse said you had your first therapy session today. I hope it went well.”
I tried not to be embarrassed. “It did. Thanks for asking.”
