38. Admitting It
Admitting It
thirty-eight
E m e r s o n
Clutching my phone in my hand and occasionally peeking at the time, I work diligently, trying to control my breathing, knowing that what I'm about to do is going to be absolutely terrifying.
But I can't back down now—I fucking won't—not when I've already prepared myself for it. Not when I've finally admitted—regardless of how fucking hard it was—that I needed help, and most importantly, that I fucking wanted it, too.
Admitting that you're powerless is a hard step, of course. But the hardest step of them all—to me—is to openly admit that you're willing and ready to ask for and accept help.
Strolling along the deserted beach, feeling the soft sand caressing my painted toes, a gentle breeze envelops me in a comforting embrace. Yet, it fails to soothe the anxiety consuming me. The only time my mind is blank and I'm not dwelling on my trauma is literally when I'm being fucking railed six ways from Sunday.
I've had more sex this week alone than I have in the last fucking year, but it's the only thing that silences the harsh reminders of what happened. And it's fucked. I know.
The scars on the inside may not have healed, but the bruises on the outside of my body have, and I'm slowly starting to feel like myself again.
Every so often as I walk, I glance toward the house, catching a glimpse of the guys in the backyard setting up for the BBQ we're having to celebrate the end of summer. Remembering that I'm in a bikini for the first time in weeks, I get nervous when I catch them looking at me, but I force it down, trying to push through the awkwardness.
This isn't me. This was never me. And fuck, I refuse to allow myself to become this timid person all because the devil took my power and confidence away. I've come too far to let that happen.
As I continue to walk along the shore with a light bounce in my step, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand brings a sense of serenity to my troubled soul. I take a deep breath and blow it out, trying to focus only on the good. Like how close Seven and I have become, or Ace and I, even with Kane and Stone. And even though I've pushed them away lately, and am still kind of keeping them at arms length, each man has helped me grow and heal in their own way.
The vibration of my phone kind of pulls me out of my head, only making me a bit more nervous than I originally was. Glancing at the screen, a lump forms in my throat when I see the name blinking, taunting me almost.
You can do it. I tell myself, slowly swiping up the green phone icon to answer the call.
Putting the phone to my ear, I clear my throat and manage to find the simple word, "hello?"
"Good afternoon. May I please speak to Emerson Cole?" A chipper voice booms through the phone, surprisingly putting my nerves at ease.
"This is her," I reply, my voice calm and steady.
"Great! This is Dr. Ana Murphy. We have our first therapy session today; is now a good time?"
"Now is perfect," I tell her, a genuine smile spreading across my lips as I continue my walk down the beach.
For the first time in my life, I feel hopeful about starting therapy. I know it's going to take a while for me to be myself again, if I even get there, but I have to try.
Walking into the backyard an hour later, I feel refreshed yet broken at the same time. With my past brought up front and center in my mind and my emotions on my sleeve, I'm not sure what to think or how to feel. I didn't want to talk about certain things, but Dr. Ana told me it was part of the process. Luckily, we didn't get into anything too deep since it was the first session, but what we did get into fucking shattered me.
All I need right now is to relax and enjoy the company of my friends, to push away the dark thoughts and memories that are still lingering in the back of my mind. Plus, the smell of BBQ in the air, the catchy music, and the laughter of everyone around me are a much-needed distraction.
I take a deep breath and make my way over to Seven, who wraps me in a comforting hug. "Where did you disappear to?" he asks, concern evident in his eyes.
"I needed some air, so I went for a walk," I reply, not wanting to burden him with my troubles.
Reaching into the cooler for a beer, I spot Kane, Ace, and Stone near the fire, while my brother sits by himself on the seawall, his legs dangling over the edge.
"I know what you're thinking, Princess," Seven whispers in my ear, hugging me from behind. "Go."
"What?" I ask, not taking my eyes off of Eli, my heart breaking from the pain surrounding him.
"Go talk to him; it'll be good for both of you." He trails soft kisses along the nape of my neck, giving me a gentle shove toward my brother.
I turn around, looking at Seven, and he gives me a nod of encouragement as I flash a grateful smile. As sad as it is, I needed a little push to finally talk to my brother. It never was this way between us before. Eli and I were always each other's best friend. But when Damon came into the picture, things slowly started changing, mainly because he purposely did his best to pull us apart. He tried to isolate me from everyone, but my brother wouldn't let that happen. Because of his persistence, Damon ended up moving in with me and that's when everything went downhill
Thinking back on all of the good and bad we went through, I make my way over to Eli, settling down next to him on the wall.
"Hey," I say softly, not wanting to startle him. He looks over at me and just nods. We sit in silence for a few moments, and then I gather my courage. "I know we haven't really talked lately, but I just want you to know that I'm sorry for the way I've been handling everything lately."
He reaches over and puts his hand on top of mine, letting out a deep breath that sounds almost agonizing as it leaves his mouth. "You don't need to apologize, Emerson. I'm just glad that... I've missed you," he says, smiling as his eyes glisten from the water filling them.
Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, I lean in and rest my head on him, the soft thumping of his heart soothing me into a blissful state, and I've never felt more relaxed.
We start talking, letting each other in like it's nothing—like we used to. I may be ashamed of the things I've done and of the things I let happen to me, but I know I can move past them. Being able to talk to my brother about it helps a lot, and I kick myself on the inside for not coming to him sooner.
I know things are still rough, and we've both got a long road ahead of us, but for just this moment, together there on the seawall, I know everything is going to be okay eventually. It's going to take time, patience, and a lot of healing, but it feels like we've finally started repairing the fractures that have slowly but surely been tearing us apart. And that's a feeling that's worth holding onto.