I check in and visit the women and children as often as I can, but soon, that will be less frequent.
“I’m heading out on an assignment. I’ll be around, but probably not as much. Take good care of yourself, ok?” I meet her eyes, knowing more than likely, she’ll end up back with the person she sought safety from.
She nods shyly, and I follow her down the hall. She disappears into the kitchen, and I continue on to the room at the back of the house.
I knock lightly, entering. These walls could weep with my darkest secrets and deepest pains. The kind that never stops hurting, wanting to destroy, and threatening to take me hostage once again.
Kerry spins away from the computer. “I’m happy to see you.”
Kerry is our resident therapist. This woman has X-ray vision. She sees and senses everything, including the things we like to keep locked up tight, never to see the light of day again.
I force a smile, closing the door, both of us knowing that even if I had a choice, I’d still be here.
She grabs a small Styrofoam to-go container off her desk. “Care if I eat while we chat?”
I tuck myself into the brown rocker-recliner as if it’s possible to hide from this woman.
“You hungry?” She scoots closer, holding out the box containing steamed bean pods.
“Nah.” I set my paper cup on the table beside me. “I had a muffin, and I’m taking in extra caffeine since I missed my morning dose.”
“Tell me about this new assignment,” Kerry jumps right in, not wasting a second of our allotted time, and it makes me laugh.
“Tracker or TJ?” I know Tracker filled her in on the details, probably even before I arrived at the office this morning.
She raises an eyebrow. “Those men love you.” I notice she doesn’t answer. “How’s the shoulder?” She caught my deflection and puts things in reverse.
I try to get comfortable, although nothing about this will be. “Sore, but it’s just pain.”
She nods, knowing exactly what I mean. “How’s your aim? Can you hold it and hit the target?”
I’m not sure I should admit I’ve been trying, but I’m not into lying to Kerry. “I’d make my mark.”
She bites into a pod and pushes the beans into her mouth. “Think you’ll need to?”
We’re back to the assignment.
“Not sure. I’ve got to get in there and find out what’s really going on. Apparently, he’s a big deal, and someone wants to knock him down a few notches.”
She stops chewing and studies me. “What’s your bead on him?”
“He’s not a sicko.”
“He’s a handsome fella, and you’ll be living with him. How do you feel about that?” Her question is soooo nonchalant, but we both know we’re stumbling into critical and guarded territory.
I could try to fake it, but she’ll see straight through me, so I don’t even bother.
“Scared shitless. I want to demand a lock on my door, a soundproof room in case I have nightmares, and make damn sure he understands that if he even looks at me that way, he’ll long for the days when he could toss a ball.”
She laughs. “Well, where do I even start with that?”
My smile loosens a little this time. “I’ll start sleeping with my Sig. That’ll help, but. . . ”
Here’s the thing I don’t want to admit out loud. I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman, and this admission hurts when I don’t want it to.
I inhale slowly, my ribcage aching with tension, and it’s painful. “I don’t know how to live with a man,” I say quietly, hoping the truth won’t permeate these walls and seep past them.
Her head falls to the side, and the sincerity and empathy I see there make me squeeze my stomach muscles tight so I can focus on the physical pain instead.
