26. Clara
CLARA
LIFTS
I stretch out on the couch, repositioning as Juno settles in front of me.
Thank goodness Maverick’s sectional is deep—this dog has no concept of personal space.
Shaking my head, I pull a throw blanket over my legs and refocus on the show I’ve been binge-watching all day while Maverick works in his office.
“When’s your appointment with Ash?”
Maverick’s voice startles me, and I snap my head up from the TV, shooting him a half-hearted glare.
“Uhm… 11:35. What time is it?”
“11:35,” he says, amusement lacing his tone.
“Oh, crap!” I scramble upright, accidentally shoving Juno to the floor in my haste. “Sorry, sweet boy!”
I’m halfway to his office before I realize I didn’t ask if I could use his space. Spinning on my heel, I find Maverick still standing by the couch, arms crossed with a smirk on his face.
“Do you mind if I use your office? And your computer? ”
“Have at it, sunshine. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
“You’re the best,” I exclaim, hustling into the cozy room and closing the door behind me.
As soon as I click the secure link, Ash’s face appears on the screen, her warm smile easing some of my tension. She can’t be mad that I’m late if she’s smiling, right? That’s what I’m going with.
“Hi, Ash. Sorry I’m late!”
“Hi, Clara! No worries at all. How’ve you been?”
The warmth of her voice reels me in again, coaxing me to open up—to say the things I avoided last time.
“It’s, uhm, it’s been a little rough.”
The second the words leave my lips, tears well up, and I don’t have the strength to hold them back.
I drop my face into my hands, elbows braced against the oak desk. I inhale deeply—a failed attempt to steady myself. When I finally look up, Ash’s expression is soft. Patient. Waiting.
“I was starting to feel more like myself these last few days. Maverick and I had breakfast outside the other morning,” I say, smiling through the tears, recalling how he was willing to bring everything back inside when he sensed my discomfort.
“It wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be.
Maverick could tell—he asked if I wanted to go back inside.
But I was determined to stay. I felt like if I went inside, I’d be giving up and letting him win, you know?
At my pause, Ash nods, but she doesn’t speak—she holds space for me without pressing.
“I was proud of myself,” I continue, speaking softer, “even though I couldn’t let go of Juno.”
“You should be proud of yourself, Clara. That’s incredible progress.”
“Thank you.” My head cants, and I stare off into the distance. “But when Maverick came home that night, he was… different. Distant. There was a tension that wasn’t there before, and it made me feel like I’d done something wrong.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
My chin dips, and tears fall from my cheeks to my collarbone.
“I wanted to. I had it all planned out: I was going to beat him to the kitchen and make him breakfast. But something didn’t feel right.
I had this… feeling, like I was being watched.
I couldn’t focus. I had to check the doors and locks.
Then I looked at the security camera feed… and I just lost it.”
Ash leans forward, her brows knitting in concern. “What did you see?”
“I saw him, Ash. He was right there, waving at me through the camera, taunting me.” My voice trembles as I wipe my face with my sleeve, inhaling a shaky breath.
“He wanted me to know he found me—wanted to scare me. And he did. At first, I was terrified. I was frozen, but then all I felt was rage. At him. At myself.”
“What made you angry at yourself?”
“Because,” I emphasize, the word clipped and raw. “It’s been fucking hell living with this fear, and I was finally doing better. But the second I saw him, my first instinct was to retreat back into the person he turned me into.”
“That’s a natural reaction, Clara.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I know, but I didn’t want it to be my first reaction.” I bury my hands in my hair, gripping until the sting in my scalp becomes too much. “I was angrier at him, though, for coming after me—for leaving me a message.”
“Do you want to tell me more about the message?” Ash’s voice is calm, soothing the torrential waves of my emotions.
“It was a picture.” I look up, locking eyes with her through the camera. “A fucking picture of Maverick’s girlfriend after her car accident. And on the back, he asked me if I still thought I was safe.”
Ash’s expression tightens and her eyes widen in shock.
“Maverick packed us up immediately and drove us to Minneapolis. I’ve never seen him like that, Ash. He hardly said a word to me. It wasn’t until we got to his house that I had the nerves to confront him. We talked about it… the photo, the distance. He thinks he’s going to fail me.”
“Did he say why?”
“He blames himself for Heather’s death. She was on her way to see him at the hospital when the accident happened. He said he’s afraid he’s going to lose me, too. He’s even working from home now, just to stay close.”
“How do you feel about that?”
I hesitate, then admit, “Would it make me a bad person if I said I was thankful that he made the decision, so I didn’t have to beg him to stay?”
“Not at all. From what you’ve shared, it’s clear you feel safest when Maverick is close to you. That’s completely valid and it makes sense to want to be near him.”
“I suppose so.” I trail off, letting the silence fill the room. My pulse pounds in my ears, my palms sweaty against my neck as I brace myself for what comes next.
Ash waits—never rushing me, content to give me the time to breathe and gather my thoughts.
“Did Maverick share with you what happened while I was missing?”
“He told me enough to understand how best to help you,” she answers gently.
I hum, tipping my head slowly. “I was locked in that room for a couple of weeks, I think. It’s hard to say; time there was blurry. He didn’t touch me that first week, but the second week…” My teeth sink into my lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. “That’s when it started. He raped me.”
Ash doesn’t flinch, only nods—the only indication she already knew.
“I kissed Maverick last night,” I confess, the words rushing out in a breath. “And I feel like something is wrong with me. I shouldn’t want him, right? It’s too soon, isn’t it? After what he did to me?”
“Oh, Clara,” Ash says, voice soft with compassion.
“There’s no timeline for healing. Everyone’s journey is different.
There’s no rule book that says you have to wait a certain amount of time before you feel ready for intimacy.
The only thing that matters is that you feel safe with him—and you do.
That much is clear. What’s important now is that you take things at your pace. ”
“So I’m not wrong for wanting more with him?”
“No, you’re not wrong at all. How did you feel after the kiss? ”
Remembering the feel of his lips on mine sends goosebumps rippling across my skin. “Like I wanted more. But when he pulled away, I didn’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed. Relieved that he didn’t push me, disappointed because I think I wanted him to.”
“Have you thought about telling him? About how you feel?
“Oh, god.” I groan softly and hide my face in my hands, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Do I have to? I mean—that’s a dumb question; I know I should.”
“There’s no requirement,” Ash responds with a smile.
“But communication is going to be paramount for your healing and your connection with him. If he knows how you’re feeling, he’ll be better equipped to support you.
You need to be able to check in with yourself to make sure you’re okay as things progress, and he needs to be able to check in with you, too.
That conversation could be a powerful first step toward something more. Do what feels right, Clara.”
“Do what feels right,” I repeat quietly, nodding to myself more than to her.
“Always. Only you know when you’re ready. But I want to prepare you—some women who’ve experienced sexual trauma move forward without flashbacks or triggers, while others don’t. There’s no way to know in advance, so both you and Maverick need to be ready for that possibility.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. But you’re right. I’ll talk with him.” I wince just thinking about initiating the conversation, but I know it has to happen. If I want more, I have to take that step. And I do want more .
Ash beams, her smile kind and full of pride. “Good. I’m really proud of the progress you’ve made, Clara. You should be proud, too. Same time next week?”
“That sounds great. Thank you so much, Ash—for everything.”
“I’m always here for you. And if you need me before then, just reach out.”
The session ends, and I slump against Maverick’s desk, pressing my forehead to the cool wood as I try to slow the wild beat of my heart.
I can do this.
With a deep breath, I push to my feet and go to find him.
The living room is quiet when I finally emerge from the office.
Maverick is stretched out on the sectional, one arm propped behind his head, the other lazily draped across Juno’s back.
The dog is curled up beside him, snoring softly and clearly living his best life.
Maverick’s gaze is fixed on the TV screen, but his posture is loose—relaxed in a way that tells me he was waiting for me without making it obvious.
I linger in the doorway, content with just watching them. And maybe to give myself a few moments to rein in my fraying nerves.
He glances over, catching sight of me, no doubt noticing the way my eyes are still red and puffy. His expression shifts—gentle, concerned—and he pats the spot beside him. “Hey.”
I cross the room and settle next to him without a word. The second I sit, Juno readjusts to rest his head in my lap with a sleepy huff. I run my fingers through his fur, grounding myself in the silence.