Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Epilogue

I’VE BEEN LAID up on the couch for fucking weeks. My feet were in bad shape and I needed surgery on my left heel, which ended my season. I was done anyway, and Coach knew it. I needed to reset after the past six months.

We ended up losing to fucking Coventry who snuffed us out of a playoff run, so I only ended up missing a week worth of games.

I’m now two weeks post-op, and my gorgeous girl has me on a tight schedule. She’s tough and makes me go downstairs every morning so I don’t hang around in bed all day. If I’m a good patient and do what I need to do, my naughty nurse rewards me with some sexual healing before bed. She’s the best medicine.

With the season over, A’s been here more. He still has tutoring and classes, but otherwise he’s been right next to me on this goddamn couch. And today he brought a friend home.

“Wow man, I’m impressed. You’re tougher than him,” Alvi says while wiping away the excess ink and blood on my chest. “Your brother was about to cry like a little bitch over a little black cat tattoo.” A what now?

“Fuck off, Al. It was just in a bad spot,”’A barks back with absolutely no fucking bite. “Ribs are a sensitive fucking area, dickhead.”

“You got a fucking cat tattoo on your ribs? When?” The fuck?

“It’s a tiny kitten with long black hair. She’s hissing and spitting with her claws out. Mean little thing.” Alvi adds and I almost snap my own neck with how fast I turn to look at my brother. Alvi lifted up the tattoo gun just in time. “I had a feeling you were gonna move like that,” he says and gets back to work on inking a paper crane over my heart.

“I gave her a cute little face though and added the dark eyes he wanted, What was it now? Four or Five weeks ago?” He glides the tattoo gun back over my chest and I totally fucking get why A likes this so much. It’s relaxing in a way I wasn’t expecting it to be. I can’t wait to show her.

“You got a fucking Edison tattoo?” I can’t believe I’m saying those words together to form a goddamn question to ask my brother.

“Shut the fuck up, is that what that is?” Alvi shakes his head and smiles, while my brother tries to look scary. His glare just isn’t effective now, not when I know he’s got cuddly kitty ink. Alvi holds up a mirror and I point to where I want her name on the crane’s folded wing.

“So who’s Birdie?” He asks me, and I smile so hard all my damn dimples show. “She’s my living, breathing, dream girl and the best fucking thing to ever happen to me.”

We’ve been in a good routine and focusing on each other and our recoveries. That rascal tries to get away with murder, but I’m watching him like a hawk while he recuperates.

I joined Evie’s support group and am really giving counseling a solid go. I’m learning how to cope better and manage all my feelings… and boy do I have a lot of them.

Everything’s been distorted and I’m saying a mantra everyday to convince myself that it”s okay to make mistakes, come up short sometimes or just have a bad day. It’s hard to stick with, but we’re working on my confidence and how I see myself.

All of these things would have had me reaching to cut, but I haven’t, I’ve been trying to breathe deep, talk it out, write it down, and understand how to better deal with my triggers. And there’s a long list of ‘em.

Today in therapy, my counselor and I talked about forgiveness, and she helped me realize how freeing it it would be to do just that. But I’ve gotta start with forgiving myself first, because punishing myself can’t be an option anymore.

My recovery’s just beginning and I know with the love and support of my friends, my twin brother, and my man, I’ll get there. I just have to keep going and I’ve gotta keep trying.