Chapter 6
Six
HOPE
Ipick at the frilled edge of the pillow while glancing around Jo’s office again. I don’t really want to look at her. She’s digging more, and talking about everything is different than writing about it or the nightmares.
“Hope?” Jo asks.
“What if talking about it makes the nightmares worse? I already… Jax can’t even sleep most nights because I just wake him up,” I defend.
“What if talking about it makes it better? That’s how a lot of deep-seated past trauma works.
From what you’re telling me, there’s quite a bit for you to work through, things you’ve been holding onto for a long time.
That’s what will fester and slip into the present if you let it,” she says, her voice soothing and gentle.
“It wasn’t… I mean, the past, yeah, but also…” Why are words so hard?
“It was also what?” she asks.
I rip some of the fringe off the pillow by accident and close my eyes. “The last time my dad… the last time he… h-he violated me was two weeks ago.”
Jo blinks at me a few times, then takes a slow breath before writing something down. “Your father raped you two weeks ago?”
I flinch at the word but manage to keep a steady voice. “Yes.”
“From what you explained, you removed yourself from him entirely. You left his home and started your own life,” she says softly.
“Well, things didn’t stay that way. He kept trying to get me to come back to him.
He’d call, I’d block a number, but then he’d get a new one and the calls would be worse.
I… I had to choose the path of least resistance.
He couldn’t put his hands on me, but he was there and then…
the guys, they… they didn’t understand, they believed my dad too and brought him back and… ”
I’m starting to hyperventilate. Jo asks me to push through, reminds me I’m in a safe place where no one can hurt me, but my mind kind of drifts.
I know my mouth is working. I know I’m telling her how Jax, Knox, and Dimitri brought my dad back into my life.
How they realized that things weren’t what my dad said, that I didn’t enjoy it, and then my dad kidnapped me.
All of that is happening, but it’s like I’m not in my body.
I’m just staring at the bird perched on the bush outside the window. I’m not the person that this happened to. I’m just a person listening.
“So the three men that brought you here are the cause of all this,” Jo says, pulling me right back into my body.
I blink a few times and shake my head. “No.”
“From what you just said, you’d escaped and they’re the reason your father came back and took you. They reignited a lot of the trauma, especially with their levels of aggression, their need for control, and how forceful they are,” she explains.
I shake my head again. “No, no. They… they just didn’t understand. They idolized him. Knox especially. My dad hurt me a lot and in a lot of ways, but he… he helped people too and…”
“And what?”
“I learned not to say things or argue with what he said. It made it worse. So- so they only had my dad to believe.”
“It sounds like you’re blaming yourself right now, Hope. What happened wasn’t your fault. If you didn’t say yes, you didn’t agree,” she reminds. “And it seems like these guys are continuing to take control of you.”
“They… only in ways I need,” I defend them. “I-I know what it sounds like.”
“You need to be the one that takes control. If you keep letting other people give you orders, if you keep minimizing yourself, how can you recover?” she asks.
I sit with that for a second, but I keep ignoring her. Knox, Jaxon, and Dimitri aren’t taking control. They’re basically catering to me. They’re taking care of me because I can’t. I just don’t have it in me. That’s totally different from what my dad did.
Maybe it sounds the same to her, but it feels different. Which means it is different.
They’re not using me. They’re helping me.
“Okay, let’s table this conversation for another session. Why don’t we talk about this most recent experience between you and your dad?” Jo asks.
I shake my head again.
“Therapy isn’t easy. If I draw things out and we beat around the bush, you won’t get better. We need to start to work through these experiences in a safe place where you can choose to stop remembering. You can choose to make it stop,” she emphasizes.
My wrists are heavy, my brain feels off, my vision is fuzzy. He’s gripping my dress, dragging it up. His voice is so loud, so angry. I know what he’s going to do. I see the camera. It’s not just him. It’s not just him. It’s not just…
“Hope?”
I hope they’ll come. They said they wouldn’t let go.
They’re smart. Knox, Jax, and Dimitri won’t let him have me.
They know he’s bad. They just have to get here…
sooner. Please, soon. Their hands feel so much better than his.
Knox felt so good inside me, touching me, panting in my ear.
It’s just Knox. Dimitri’s holding my wrists.
Jaxon’s watching. It’s just them. Only them…
“Hope, come back. Stay in the moment with me.”
“I don’t… I know he chained me to the table. He… he bent me over it. There was a camera. I said no. I yelled it. I’d already fought him before but then…” I bite my tongue for a second. “It’s going to sound crazy.”
“Crazy is subjective,” Jo answers, leaning forward.
I’m so hungry, so tired, so weak. My body is supposed to be mine, but he keeps grabbing me and I can’t break the chain. I have to get free. I can’t let him. I can’t. I feel him between my thighs and—it’s Knox. It’s just Knox. Knox is rough, but he cares. He and Dimitri and Jax are good.
“I went somewhere else in my mind. I went to a memory,” I finally say, taking my time so she hears each word.
“A good memory? A good place?”
“It was a better one, a place I kind of made up. My mind changed it, I guess, into something… something I could handle.”
She writes something down. “Something that made it easier to deal with.”
“Yeah.” I shift on the couch.
I don’t like the silence that’s dragging between us. It’s like she knows I’m not telling her something important. I dig my nails into the pillow for a second, then let it drop onto my lap. I stare at it. “Knox was supposed to protect me. Why didn’t he?”
“How was he supposed to protect you?”
“He… he wasn’t supposed to let my dad get me. He… he was supposed to find me. He promised I’d be safe. They promised they wouldn’t let me go. It was a promise, not a threat. And then he didn’t… he didn’t get there in time. He didn’t… didn’t and then he didn’t…”
I can’t tell her that Knox didn’t kill my dad.
I can’t tell her that none of them know what to do with me now.
There’s so much I can’t admit to without plunging us all into trouble.
My stomach twists and for a second, I’m sure I’m going to be sick, but then I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“That’s okay. We’ll stop,” she says. “No more questions about it today. You’ve done really well, Hope. It’s not easy to open up and to share the worst things in your life, but you’re doing it. You’re putting in the work and that matters. It’s something only you can do.”
She grabs some folders from her desk. “Let’s try some breathing exercises.”
I carefully nod and shift in my seat.
“In through your nose for four counts, hold for four, out through your mouth for four, creating a box with your breathing,” she instructs, her voice steady as I struggle to follow along.
When my shoulders finally drop, she hands me a manila folder.
“I want you to read these, Hope. I think it might help to start EMDR.”
“What’s that?” My voice comes out smaller than I expected.
“Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing,” she explains, tapping the folder. “It helps people process traumatic memories. Think of it like this—when trauma happens, it gets stuck in your brain like a splinter. EMDR helps your brain finally push it out so it can heal properly.”
I stare at the folder, suddenly aware of how many splinters I have buried inside me. “Will it hurt?” I ask, not entirely talking about the therapy.
“I can’t promise it won’t bring up bad feelings, Hope.
But if it hurts, it means your brain is finally getting a chance to heal.
That’s how you move on.” Jo’s voice is soft but she doesn’t let it turn floaty or gentle.
She wants me to know this is serious, that I can’t just sleep it off or coat it over with foundation.
“You’re in control the entire time. You can stop whenever you want. No more losing time, no more gaps.” She leans back. “I won’t press you. But I do want you to think about it. Trauma has a way of sticking around forever unless you dig it out.”
I know what she’s really saying: I can’t make my own story if the old one is still replaying behind every second of my life.
“Okay,” I say, but I know it’s not true.
“Okay,” she repeats and walks to the office door, only when she opens the door, something switches in her eyes.
“Hope.”
“Yes?” I ask softly, my voice scratchy and weak.
“I can’t truly grasp yet what these… men are to you now.
But keep them out of my office. One, it’s a very controlling thing for a man to do.
Stealing files and trespassing are serious charges.
I’ll let it go because he only accessed your files, but if one of them comes in here again, I’ll have to involve police,” she says evenly.
I nod once, my jaw clenching tight. Heat floods my face as my hands curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. Something shifts inside me, temporarily drowning out the fear that’s been echoing through me.
Anger.
DIMITRI
Hope walks into the lobby with a sense of purpose. I hope that’s a good sign. It’s better than I expect but then she glowers at me. “Dimitri…”
“You ready to leave?” I ask, unease settling in my chest.
Over her shoulder, I see her therapist watching me with something questioning in her face. It’s more than just a question. It’s a warning.
Of course, she fucking knows.
Jaxon always thinks he has shit under control. He thinks that he can control what people see, what they do, what they know. He thinks he can control all of it, but he can’t. How did he think that he’d get away with theft at an office like this?
“Let’s just go,” Hope finally huffs.
I offer her my hand and she takes it. She leads me out of the office and to the car.
Jaxon and Knox are busy apartment hunting, so it’s just the two of us at the moment. She glances at the backseat, pauses, then slides back into the passenger seat, just like she did on the way here.
“Buckle please,” I say as I get behind the wheel.
She does, but she shifts in the seat, leans back against the door and watches me like I’m a suspect in a crime. I’ve dealt with worse looks.
“Do you want to talk about what happened in counseling?”
“I don’t know,” she answers. “What do you already know?”
I sigh. “Jaxon.”
“So you know he stole my file. Did he share it with you? Did you read it?” she asks, obviously frustrated, flustered, and something else. It almost seems like she’s scared.
My brow furrows. “He showed us after your appointment. You know how he is. The mere idea that Dr. Grant knows more about you ticks him off.”
She narrows her eyes. “Did you read it?” she asks again.
I know she doesn’t want me to say yes. She’s practically begging me to say no. My throat goes dry, and I draw in a slow, steadying breath.
“Be honest, please,” she finally whispers.
This is going to bite me in the ass. “Yes. I read the file.”
“That’s personal. It’s all supposed to be personal! How could you all… One thing—one thing that you guys set up, a place where I’m supposed to be able to share everything without judgement, where I’m supposed to have control and you all just…”
“If she’s doubting you… or if she’s going to try to twist things, we want to know, Hope. I don’t want to miss something and lose you again.” My last sentence is so soft, I’m not sure if she heard me.
Hope rubs her arms and looks out through the windshield. “I’m allowed to keep things from you.”
I clear my throat. “You are.”
“Without being bullied into giving up information. You guys don’t tell me everything. If you went to therapy, I wouldn’t break in to see if you talk about me or if you have regrets or nightmares or other things,” she insists.
“I know.”
“So please, please… I just… I need space. Not physically necessary, but I need to have something that’s just mine. I live with you guys, I… I’ve shared so much already,” she says, her anger slowly ebbing.
“If we would have known what Jax was doing, we would have stopped him. If you want my copy of the file, you can have it,” I offer.
“All of you read it?” Her face goes pale.
I nod once. “Jaxon might be the most impulsive. He might be the most willing to break the law or whatever but… but none of us want to lose you.”
JAXON
I keep checking the time, my leg twitching as I wait for Dimitri and Hope to be back.
“There have to be more options that are close. Hope wants to stay close to work and being in town will be good for her,” I say to Knox.
“Yeah, well aware. Not to mention more reasonably priced with good security,” Knox says.
Before I can recommend another place, one that Ben mentioned, the door opens. Dimitri walks in and gives me a look that can only be called “warning.” I glance at Knox to see if he notices, but he’s focused on his phone.
“Dimitri, what’s—”
“What’s this?” Hope demands, using a rolled-up stack of papers to smack me on the head. “Why would you do this?”
“Because you said she didn’t believe you. You hinted that she didn’t,” I say, trying to ignore the fact she just tried to punish me like a dog.
“That doesn’t mean to break in. She knows it was you and she threatened to call the police if you do it again,” Hope huffs.
I love seeing her so riled up. It sends heat rippling through my body. I want to catch her, drag her against me, and feel her fight. She studies my eyes intensely, angrily, but with something else simmering under the surface.
She exhales sharply while I slowly smile. “So, I’m not in trouble this time?”
“That’s not the point! You know it too. There are things that we’re hiding from the public, so don’t stir up more things,” she orders.
I step closer to her and she pauses. I love her giving me orders, threatening me, lashing out. It’s the Hope I love, my favorite Hope.
She swallows, then beats me with the paper again before it unravels against my chest. I look down and realize it’s her file.
Not mine to protect, the unwelcome thought teases my mind when I see Hope’s raw wrist, like she’s been rubbing it. I want to yell at her for that. I want to distract her. I want to make sure that she doesn’t get a chance to…
“Jax, do you hear me? Not again. Be good,” Hope insists.
“That’s your job, not mine,” I say, harsher than I mean to.