Chapter Four
Rouge
I slid a black dress over my head and grabbed my black combat boots from the closet. Plopping down on my butt, I managed to get them on and tie them. Letting out a yawn, I struggled to my feet and grabbed my brush, running it through my hair. I was so tired. After working all night at the bar, I’d only had time for a shower and about three hours of sleep before I’d needed to get ready to meet Leland.
My bottom clenched at the mere thought of him. He’d been so unhappy with me Friday night when he found me at the bar. I wouldn’t agree to quit and he said we’d talk about it today. Trepidation made my tummy hurt. I didn’t want him to know I’d worked last night too.
After applying a tiny bit of makeup, I grabbed my coffin backpack, and headed out the door. Ugh, it was already so hot when I stepped out into the thick Georgia air. The sweat on my arms stung as it rolled down my skin, reminding me pulling my hair out wasn’t the only way I coped with my anger.
I walked around to where my apartment complex let us store our bikes and couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face when I saw Leland standing there. I hadn't expected to see him and I was extremely confused to feel… excited about him being there. His ripped jeans and tight black tee did nothing to hide his thick, corded muscles. He smiled at me as he walked across the parking lot at me. “I thought maybe you’d like a ride since it's hot as hell out here.”
I nodded.
He grabbed my hand and led me to his truck. Holding hands like this was new and I tried to pull mine from his grasp.
“No, sugar. Let me touch you.”
I opened my mouth to argue that I didn’t like it, but that wasn’t true. I did like it. Too much.
He’s too good for me.
Tugging my hand was useless, his own fingers were wrapped around mine too tightly.
“Leland, let me go.”
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, turning to me once we’d reached his Tundra.
“Let me go.” Anger rolled around in my tummy. My skin felt tight and itchy. His planwas a bad idea. We couldn’t do what he wanted—I couldn’t do what he wanted. Not when I was already angry.
“Am I hurting you?” he repeated.
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t like what, baby?” I hated how calm he was, how patient he was.
“I don’t like to hold hands.”
“I haven’t met many people who don’t like physical touch. I think maybe you’re just not used to it, so it’s making you panic.”
“I’m not panicking, I’m angry.” Couldn’t he tell by my gritted teeth and flushed face?
Chuckling, he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me.
“Leland, no.” I tried pushing at his chest.
Too much.
“Feel with me,” he said. “What’s your heart doing?”
Realizing complying or safewording was the only way he was letting me go, I stopped struggling against him. “It’s beating really fast.”
“Yeah? How about your breathing? Is it fast or slow?”
“Fast.”
“How about your body? Are your legs shaking or are you standing firmly?”
Thinking about it, I realized that my legs were shaking and so were my hands.
“Shaky.”
“Because you’re scared; your anger is just masking it. Rouge, you had to go through so much and your body’s response to that is anger. For a long while, I bet that’s all you felt because you needed it to survive. Now, whenever you’re faced with an emotion, you feel anger as a trauma response.”
“I-I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to do it. Damn, how much more fucked-up could I be?
“You don’t have to be sorry at all, Little one. We just need to teach your body there are other ways to feel and give you opportunities to experience those emotions. Once it learns new emotions don’t mean danger, things will be a lot easier for you.”
He really had thought this through.
He rubbed his big hands over my back for a few minutes before letting me go.
“Are you ready to annihilate some donuts?”
When he rubbed his belly, I smiled. I’d heard rumors about how many donuts he could eat in one sitting.
“My record is eighteen and I'm going to try to break it with at least twenty-one today.”
“Twenty-one donuts?” I asked, amazed.
“Um, have you ever had them from The Baker’s Dozen ? I swear they are infused with drugs or something. So fucking addictive.”
“I’ve never been there before.”
“To The Baker’s Dozen ?”
“Yeah.”
He lifted me into the truck and buckled my seatbelt. I would have protested, but he did it before I even had time to react.
“We’ve been in Strickland for seven months and you haven’t been to the best bakery in town?”
“Isn’t it the only bakery?”
He scoffed as he climbed in the truck. “Only because all the others knew they wouldn’t stand a chance.”
We made small talk as we drove through the small town.
Once we arrived at The Baker’s Dozen , he helped me out of the truck and took my hand again. My skin itched and I felt like my dress was too tight.
“Remember, it’s just new.”
Nodding, I swallowed the lump in my throat. He led me into the bakery and to a table near the window. After pulling out my chair, he sat across from me. I put my hands in my lap nervously.
“What’s your favorite kind of donut?” he asked.
Rage filled me before I felt like I had even processed his question. I pinched my thigh and tried to focus on the pain instead of my anger. What the fuck? What was happening?
“Um, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he asked in mock horror.
“I’ve never had a fucking donut,” I said, standing so quickly I knocked over my chair. The sound bounced off the floor and filled the small room.
Heat rushed to my face when everyone in the small bakery turned to look at us. I bent down to pick up the chair and set it back at the table. How embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” I said once I had it back in position.
“Sit back down, baby.”
***
Leland
I’d admit I was slightly shocked at Rouge’s quick display of temper, but my heart hurt for her. She looked as confused as I felt and it showed me she didn’t understand the current cause of her anger either.
Once she settled back at the table, I moved to sit beside her. Capturing her face between my palms, I waited for her to look at me. She flinched at my touch, but didn’t try and pull away.
“Look at me, Rouge.”
She obeyed.
“Take a breath, sugar.”
Once again she obeyed me. It was fucking beautiful.
A waitress hesitantly approached us. I sent her a reassuring smile and placed my hand on Rouge’s back, not wanting her to think she was facing this alone.
“We are having a bit of a rough morning. Could we have two chocolate milks, one coffee, and two dozen assorted donuts, please?”
Once she’d scrambled off to get our order, I turned my attention back to Rouge. “H-how did you know?”
“Know what, baby?”
“That I wasn’t angry. I was scared.”
“When I first wanted to help you, I did a lot of research and I came across a forum where someone else was struggling with a similar issue. She shared her past and current therapy sessions. Her therapist felt like because of her PTSD and the constant years she lived in survival mode, anytime she was feeling an emotion, her body responded in anger. She talked about how she would randomly have these outbursts of temper much like you do. With your past, it wasn’t hard to put it all together.”
“I-I didn’t know. I didn’t believe you earlier when you said that’s what was happening to me.”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Yes.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I was embarrassed that I’d never had a donut before and then I was sad, but before I could even process it, I was yelling at you. I’m so sorry.”
“I know, Rouge, and I forgive you. We’re going to get through this together.”
She nodded and took another shaky breath.
“Do you know why you were sad?”
She played with the hem of her dress as she thought it over. “Because what kind of person has never had a donut?”
I reached down and grabbed the seat of her chair, turning her to face me. “There’s two things I want you to realize, Little one. One, you never have to be embarrassed with me. Life is weird and messy. There’s something everyone has never done for some reason or another. Your reason is very valid, baby. You were raised in a horrible situation where you were never given an opportunity to have a donut. That’s something that was out of your control. Two, you shouldn't feel any shame because you’ve never had a donut. You know who should be ashamed? Your parents and the cult, for so many reasons. The deprivation of donuts is just one.”
She nodded and then surprised the shit out of me by hugging me. I wrapped my arms around her and rocked us side to side.
Only when our order was brought out did she let me go.
“Now,” I said, sliding the tray of donuts around to her. “Let’s find your favorite.”
***
“This one,” Rouge said, picking the rest of the pink-sprinkled donut up. She’d sampled a bite of every donut and was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I’d been fighting back my emotions since she’d taken the first bite. Watching her experience something as simple as tasting a donut made me question how many other things I’d taken for granted.
“That is a great choice.”
“What’s your favorite?” she asked, taking a much too big bite.
“Chew that carefully, sugar.” I had to watch how I corrected her. I realized she was much more sensitive than I had originally thought.
Once I was satisfied with her mouthful, I grabbed the bakery’s version of a cookies-and- cream donut. “This one is my favorite.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “I think that was maybe my… fourth favorite.”
Her word choice along with her carefree attitude brought a smile to my face.
“So your first favorite was the strawberry sprinkle, what was your second favorite?”
“The cotton candy one with the blue frosting.”
“Oh, yes. It is good. It was customers’ choice for July.”
She laughed. “You really do love this place, don’t you?”
“One time I dreamed I turned Daddies Ink into a donut shop. What’s your third favorite?”
“The French Toast.”
“Customers’ choice for April.”
Shaking her head, she picked up her chocolate milk and took a sip. I watched her, feeling oddly content. She seemed so relaxed.
“I think yes,” she added after a minute.
“Yes what, baby?” Her comment caught me off guard. I was enjoying the high the morning had brought so far.
“Yes, I will submit to you for six weeks. I do think you can help me learn to control my anger.”
Laughing, I rubbed her back. “Do you think maybe you should hear the entire plan first?”
“Oh,” she said after biting into another strawberry-sprinkle donut. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“But for the record, I really hope your answer will still be yes.”
“No taksiebacksies.”
“No taksiebackies, sugar.”