Chapter 3 #4
With that said, he wandered away from the picnic table, already dialing another number into his phone.
Clay and I were left alone together, with nothing but the distant laughter of children to break the silence between us.
I nervously cleared my throat. My voice had a tendency to crack whenever I was stressed, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
“Hey, Clay. Listen. I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean—”
My therapist’s voice echoed in my mind, cutting me off. She claimed that the key to healing was to face reality head on, without running away or making excuses. Her advice had always worked for me before, so I intended to keep following it.
“No, that’s a lie. I meant what I said, but I was wrong. I know you haven’t had it easy. I was angry and I lashed out at you, but I shouldn’t have done that.”
I nervously toyed with the bandages on my hands. My wounds weren’t as bad as I’d first feared, barely more than scrapes, but my palms were sensitive, and the damaged skin hurt. I kept rubbing at them with my fingers, hoping to soothe the pain, but it never went away.
Clay’s hand suddenly grasped mine, making me jump.
“It’s fine,” he said, his gaze meeting mine.
“I get it. Trust me, I really do get it. I can’t tell you how many times I lashed out at my brother or Logan when I was angry.
And they were always innocent. You at least have a good reason to be angry at us.
It’s not fair to drop something like this on you. ”
Our eyes weren’t the same. Since we both had blue eyes, I always assumed they were the same color, but now that I was getting my first up-close look at Clay, I realized there were some differences.
His eyes were a true blue, like the crisp March sky hanging over us right now.
My eyes, on the other hand, had flecks of green scattered through the blue.
We’d both been chosen specifically for our looks, but even in this we didn’t match.
Breaking his gaze, I stared down at the fraying edges of my bandages.
“I’m not really angry that you asked me to be a witness. As soon as I heard that the case had been put on hold, I kind of expected it.”
What was the saying?
In for a penny, in for a pound?
That phrase probably made more sense over in Britain where a pound was an actual currency, but it still applied. Since I was coming clean to Clay, I may as well admit everything.
“To be honest, I’m... I’m jealous.”
“Jealous?” Clay repeated, saying the word slowly like he was double-checking its meaning.
I still didn’t meet his eye as I nodded. “It’s wrong. I know. But it just seems like you’re doing so well. No matter how much progress I make, I feel like I’m always falling behind.”
My gaze drifted in Logan’s direction, who was still talking on his phone with his back to us. There was no doubt that Clay and Logan were together, but I had no idea how the other man had done it.
How had Clay managed to move on and open himself up to someone else?
How could he bear to let a man touch him without being reminded of the thousand other unwanted touches that came before?
I shuddered just thinking about it.
That was one obstacle I’d made no progress with.
Romance sounded like a good idea in theory, but I feared it would never be a reality for me.
The one time I’d tried to set up a date, I’d ended up having a panic attack before I could even ask the other person.
After that, I’d never bothered to try again.
I didn’t need romance in order to graduate from the recovery center. I could live without it.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Clay move until he sat next to me. We were so close I could feel the heat from his body even though we weren’t touching.
“I heard last night was your graduation party from the recovery center,” he said. “I’m sorry we interrupted that, but it’s a sign that you’re doing well. Trauma recovery isn’t a competition. You’re moving forward. That’s what matters.”
My therapist had said the same thing to me hundreds of times. I’d even said the same thing to myself on many occasions.
You’d think one of these times I’d actually believe it.
“I know,” I agreed. “But it doesn’t feel like enough.”
Whatever Clay meant to say next was interrupted when Logan returned.
“We’ll have to wait a few days before we leave.”
Clay stood from the picnic table to plant himself at Logan’s side. “What? Why? I thought you said it would be safer for us to return as soon as possible. Why the delay?”
Shadows lurked in Logan’s eyes. Something was going on, but he just wrapped an arm around Clay’s shoulders and rubbed a soothing hand against his arm.
“We’re still setting up the safe house. It’s... um, it’s just taking longer than we planned. Until then, Jordy, you can stay with us at our hotel. We’ll protect you until we’re able to get you to the safe house.”
Stay with them?
In the same hotel room?
If it were anyone else, I would have fled from them in panic. However, if there was anyone I could trust, it was these two. Clay could relate to and sympathize with my situation better than anyone, and Logan was the one who had brought me to the recovery center in the first place.
Maybe spending a few days with them in close quarters would help me figure out how their relationship worked. If Clay could move on and find romance, then surely so could I.
I stood from the table as well, stuffing my bandaged hands into the pockets of my jacket as I feigned a relaxed posture.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already got all my stuff packed. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”