Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Riff
I woke up every fucking morning with my cock straining against my pants. It was so fucking chronic that I'd taken to sleeping on my side instead of my back, facing the couch cushions, so the issue wasn't so clearly on display.
The last thing Vienna needed was to see that.
But there seemed to be no stopping it, no reasoning with it.
I hadn't been so at the mercy of my body since I was a fucking teenager.
And the only thing I could conclude, much to my horror, given her trauma, was it was because of the woman I was currently sharing a room with.
For the first week and a half, she pretty much never left it, except to sneak across to the shower when no one else was around.
I brought her meals to the room, brought her packages up that she ordered, and did her laundry for her.
By the end of the second week, though, she was no longer stiffening when she heard the sound of one of the other men's voices as they passed in the hall or boomed from down below. It was like she'd accepted that they weren't going to hurt her. Since, if they wanted to, she was right there in the room all the time.
It was the first day of the third week when she finally came down into the common area, meeting the other guys one by one, though she clung really closely to me still.
By the middle of that week, she was coming down for meals, flanked on either side by me and one of the women, who just seemed to know she needed them there.
And by the end, she'd left the clubhouse for the first time since coming to Shady Valley.
With me in the driver's seat, and Morgaine riding shotgun.
Because, apparently, Morgaine had ‘worked with' a shrink once, a woman who knew Morgaine's business and even sent her clients on occasion. I guess when you were in that profession, sitting and listening to the horrors women had endured at the hands of men, at some point, you wanted revenge for them too.
But Morgaine had been able to talk Vienna into going for therapy a few times a week with this particular doctor because of their history, because Vienna didn't have to worry about the situation of her abuse, about the cops maybe getting involved in any way.
"Are you going in?" I asked when we got to the office building at the end of Shady Valley.
"I'm just going to be in the waiting room," Morgaine told me. Then, lower, so only I heard, "She might need me after."
With that, the women went into the building, and I sat in the car, stomach acid steadily working at burning a hole in my intestines as I worried about Vienna up there, reliving all of that shit that had happened to her.
Some part of me wanted to protect her from it. Even if I knew that therapy, that purging it all out, was likely the only way she could ever start to heal from it.
So I sat and waited.
As one hour turned to two.
Then almost three before the door finally opened, and the two women came out.
It was cold now in Shady Valley. Well, as cold as we got, anyway, as we were steadily into December now. So Vienna had two sweaters on under her bison coat, a scarf, a hat, and mittens on. But, somehow, she seemed even more fragile than ever as Morgaine almost seemed to pull her toward the car, then shuffle her inside.
I glanced in the rearview, finding Vienna's gaze downcast, but her whole face was red from tears, and my heart ached in my chest at the sight.
Morgaine gave me a little nod as she climbed in, reaching for the heat, and cranking it up.
No one said anything on the ride back to the clubhouse.
But as soon as the car stopped, Vienna hopped out and rushed inside.
"It's okay," Morgaine assured me. "It's just… it's all part of it. The beginning is going to be the worst. Don't be upset if she seems to regress to hiding in her nest again for a bit."
"She'll go back, though, right?"
"She said she would be back overmorrow for her next session."
"Okay," I said, sucking in a deep breath. "I don't know if I should go to her or leave her alone," I admitted as I cut the engine.
"Normally, I'd say that the last thing she needs is a man around right now. But I've seen how she is with you. I think she sees you as her protector, as her security blanket. I think she'd want you right now."
I didn't need more assurance than that.
I all but flew upstairs, having to force myself to slow down as I got to the door, knocking on it with the same pattern as I always did, so she knew it was me, then moving inside.
She was in her nest as Morgaine predicted, cuddling Vernon to her chest.
"Hey, darlin'," I said, pitching my voice softer. "Can I get you anything?" I asked. And it was a normal question from me, something I asked her multiple times a day, so she wouldn't take it as pity coming from me.
"Can you just… sit with me for a while?" she asked, gaze still downcast.
"Sure," I agreed, moving over toward the couch.
"No," she said, making me stiffen. "No, um… here?" she asked, gesturing toward the empty side of the bed.
I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about that. But, well, it wasn't really my place to say, was it? This was her show. I would play whatever part she needed from me.
So I kicked out of my shoes, and walked over to the other side of the bed, climbing in but being careful not to touch her.
I ended up not needing to worry about that, though. Because as soon as I was on the bed, she released Vernon who rushed to go clean himself near the windows, then she turned and all but flung herself onto my chest just as she let out a deep sob that I swear tore my fucking heart clear out of my chest.
I wasn't good with tears. I had no real experience with them. I'd been raised mostly around men. I spent almost all of my time around other men. Sure, I enjoyed time with women. But fun time. Not hold someone while they cried time.
I didn't know what to do with my hands. What to say as her tears started to soak through my shirt, but showed no signs of drying up as her small body racked hard with the sobs.
I slowly slid my fingers toward her hair, gently stroking down the soft strands. When she didn't tense or pull away, I just kept doing that. Eventually, my other arm drifted around her back, holding her against me when she didn't try to move away.
I didn't try to tell her it was okay.
It wasn't.
Nothing about what happened to her was okay.
So I told her the only thing that was true, that would, as far as I was concerned, would always be true.
"I'm right here."
She sobbed for what felt like hours until, eventually, she cried herself right to sleep.
It was a pattern that continued as she kept going to therapy. She shut down on the way home, just trying to hold herself together. Then she asked me to sit with her on the bed, she crawled up onto my chest, and she let herself fall apart.
As much as it fucking killed me, made me want to tell Morgaine to fuck off with this therapy shit, because it just seemed to be making her worse, as the days went on, she cried a little less hard. Then, not much at all. Until, the week of Christmas, she just curled up on my chest and let me hold her.
And, fuck, I had the craziest goddamn thought right then.
I never wanted to let her go.
That was dangerous thinking, no matter how much my feelings for Vienna had grown since that first day.
I mean, for fuck's sake, I'd been spending the time she was in therapy sitting on my phone, ordering a ton of shit for her for Christmas.
I usually kind of struggled buying gifts for the women, needing a little coaxing from their men or Colter. But it was easy with Vienna, this woman whose entire life was ripped away from her, who had nothing of her own, apart from some clothes and books.
Up in the former attic, I had stacks of items that I needed to get my ass up there to wrap.
"Hey, darlin'," I said as Vienna came walking downstairs. "What are you up to?" I asked.
It wasn't like she had a thriving social life or anything, but she hung out with the girls a lot now—making earrings or other little projects with Morgaine, watching Murphy build weapons, playing with the dogs with Delaney, or even taking self-defense lessons with Nyx.
She looked dressed for the latter, wearing fewer layers than usual.
"You ready, cari?o?" Coach asked, coming in from outside, shrugging out of his jacket.
"Ready for what?" I asked, freezing.
She didn't hang out directly with any of the guys. Sure, she was sometimes in the kitchen when Detroit was cooking, or sitting in the living room reading a book when Sway, Colter, Rook, or Crow were also hanging out, but she didn't make plans, one on one, with any of them.
But, fuck, I was supposed to be happy about that development, wasn't I? Not something that felt suspiciously like jealousy.
"Yoga and meditation," Coach supplied for her as she shuffled her feet guiltily, like she felt weird about not telling me herself.
"Dr. Swift said they are good practices to take up," Vienna said as Coach discreetly moved away to give us some privacy.
Dr. Swift had all sorts of techniques she'd taught Vienna to help her in moments when she was stressing out. She especially had to use them when she woke up panicked, likely from nightmares that were actually memories. She would sit there, deep breathing and tapping each of her fingers to her thumbs five times each, then four, three, two, one. Usually, by the time she was done, she was relatively calm again.
There was another one she did that involved tapping different spots on her face, collarbone, under arm, and wrists. EFT, I think she called it.
I didn't know shit about it, but I knew it helped her.
So if the doctor was telling her that yoga and meditation would too, who the fuck was I to feel weird about it?
"Meditation for, you know, obvious reasons," Vienna said. "And yoga as a… a way to reconnect with my body. She said the self-defense was good for that too, but that this might… have more to offer."
"That makes sense," I agreed, watching as Coach spread out two yoga mats in the hallway, like he knew she wouldn't want to be fully alone with him. "Go easy on her," I called to Coach. "She's still building muscle back," I added.
"Gentle yoga is the name of the game today," Coach agreed as Vienna moved over toward the mats.
Not wanting to seem like I was intruding, I moved into the kitchen, quietly unloading the dishwasher, so I could be nearby for her, but not bothering them.
I could hear the low, soothing sounds of Coach's voice as he coaxed her into different poses, reminding her to breathe and fix her posture.
Everything seemed to be going well.
Finished with the dishes, I silently made my way back to the living room, finding them equally as quiet as they both moved to lay flat on the mat, legs slightly parted, arms at their sides, palms out.
"Deep breath in," Coach instructed. "Now let it all out."
I imagined it was the releasing phrase that got that reaction out of her it did, a loud sniffle escaping her, making me tense as I looked over to find her eyes squeezed closed, but tears slipping out below her lashes.
Nonplussed, though, Coach held up a hand to me when every instinct told me to rush toward her, that she needed me.
"That's it," he said in that same soothing voice. "Let it out. Feel where it is all stuck, and breathe into it, release it."
Vienna cried quietly as Coach kept talking her through whatever release ritual he was doing until, eventually, she seemed to purge all the tears she had at the ready.
"Now let's shift up into a cross-legged position," Coach instructed, "hands on knees, palms up, back straight, and eyes closed," he told her.
Vienna moved to do just that, then deep breathed while Coach talked her through some sort of guided meditation that involved a long walk on the beach before sinking into the water, and then inviting the wounded version of her to join her, then hand over her pain, and let the waves take it and float it away to where it could never hurt her again.
It ended with some deep breathing.
And when her eyes opened, tears were falling lazily down her cheeks again, but there was a slight smile on her lips as she looked over at Coach.
"Thank you," she said.
And, suddenly, I felt like the biggest dick for being jealous for even a second. Because her doctor and Coach had clearly been correct. She'd gotten a lot out of that.
"We can practice anytime you want," Coach told her as they both stood from their mats. "And you can do that meditation anytime you need to by yourself," he added, bending to roll up the mats.
Once alone, Vienna turned to me, giving me a sweet smile, the kind she was a lot more ready with these days. "I have a question."
"I might have the answer."
"Well, I've been looking around online, and I found that there's a bookstore just, like, half an hour away. I was wondering if—"
"When do you want to go? Now?" I asked, eager to spend more time with her, even if I was around her pretty much twenty-four-seven.
"Just let me change," she said, this time, the smile was lighting up her whole fucking face.
And I knew right then that I wanted to spend the rest of my fucking life making her brighten up like that.