Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
TESSA
Sweat drips down my back as I drive my knee up hard into the instructor’s groin. He’s wearing a padded cup, so he doesn’t actually get injured, but he goes down anyway, stumbling backward and doubling over like a real assailant would.
The girls erupt behind me, cheering and clapping.
“Oh my gosh, yes, Tessa!” Anna hollers. “You’re such a badass!”
“That was perfect form!” Miranda adds, laughing. “Did you see how fast you moved?”
I’m breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through my veins, and I can’t stop grinning. The instructor straightens up and gives me an approving nod.
“Excellent,” he says. “That’s exactly what you want to do. Fast, decisive, no hesitation.”
The three of us have been taking self-defense courses together for the past month—twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday evening—at a downtown gym specializing in women’s self-defense.
It was Anna’s idea initially, something she’d been wanting to do for years, and when she heard about everything I’d been through, she insisted we sign up together. Miranda joined immediately.
“God, it feels great to kick some ass, doesn’t it?” Anna says as we grab our water bottles during the break. Her face is flushed, her ponytail askew, and she looks absolutely thrilled. “I’ve always wanted to get really good at self-defense maneuvers,” she continues. “I just never made the time.”
“I really appreciate you both doing this with me,” I say, meaning it deeply.
“Are you kidding?” Miranda scoffs, wiping sweat from her forehead. “This is incredible. I feel like I could take down a linebacker right now.”
I take a long drink of water. They’re right—this is incredible.
The class moves on to practicing escape techniques, and I pair up with Anna while Miranda works with another woman. The instructor demonstrates how to break free from someone grabbing you from behind, and we take turns practicing the movements.
When it’s my turn to be the “attacker,” I grab Anna from behind, and she executes the escape perfectly—stepping to the side, turning into me, and using her elbow to strike where my ribs would be.
“Yes!” the instructor calls out. “Perfect, Anna. Tessa, your turn.”
Anna grabs me from behind, her arms wrapping around my upper body, and for just a second—a split second—I freeze. My brain flashes back to Preston, to being grabbed, and the terror that comes with the feeling of not being able to get away.
But then I remember where I am and who I’m with. I push the memories down and execute the escape exactly as we were taught. I break free and spin to face Anna with my hands up in a defensive position.
“Excellent!” the instructor says. “You both are naturals.”
After class, the three of us sit in the parking lot for a while, still sweaty and exhausted but buzzing with endorphins.
“Same time Thursday?” Miranda asks.
“Absolutely,” I say.
“Definitely,” Anna agrees.
Sometimes we grab dinner afterward, but Anna has a Zoom meeting to attend for an upcoming project, so we say our goodbyes.
Jack is at my side. “You ready to go, Ms. Marlowe?”
“I am. Thank you.” I follow him to his vehicle.
I’m excited to get back to the condo and tell Logan all about class.
After I’ve showered and changed into comfortable clothes, Logan and I are sprawled on the couch with takeout.
“You know,” he says between bites of lo mein, “I know I tell you all the time, but I’m just really proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I say, and a blush warms my cheeks.
“I really am. You’re out there kicking ass in the self-defense classes. You’re focusing on therapy and really putting in the work to heal.” He sets down his food and looks at me seriously. “That’s hard. A lot of people wouldn’t have the strength to do what you’re doing.”
I consider this. “I don’t know if it’s strength or just… necessity. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to be a victim anymore.”
“You were never a victim,” he says firmly. “You were a survivor.”
I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t do any of this without you. Without everyone who’s helped me.”
“Yes, you could,” he says. “But I’m glad you don’t have to.”
I know my situation with Preston isn’t unique.
Unfortunately, there are women everywhere trapped in horrible relationships who feel, for whatever reason, they can’t leave.
Some don’t have the resources. Some don’t have the support system.
Some are too scared, or too beaten down, or too convinced they deserve it.
I don’t know why I’m the one these people chose to rally behind—Logan, Joyce, Bob, Layla, and the entire Crane organization. All of them showed up to help me and believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.
But my heart swells with gratitude for them every single day.
Penny lined up four different therapists for me to interview. I had brief sessions with each of them and chose the one I felt most comfortable with—a woman named Dr. Chen, who specializes in trauma and domestic violence. I meet with her three times a week, and it’s been incredibly healing.
I knew I had a lot to unpack from everything I’ve been through—not just Preston, but the foster care system, the abandonment, the years of feeling unwanted and unworthy. But I didn’t realize how desperately I needed a professional to help me work through it all.
Dr. Chen doesn’t just let me talk—she challenges me, asks hard questions, and helps me see patterns I never recognized before. She’s teaching me that healing isn’t linear, that setbacks don’t mean failure, that I’m allowed to be angry and sad and scared and hopeful all at the same time.
The weekly self-defense classes with Anna and Miranda are another piece of that healing. They’re not only helping me feel safer—they’re also genuinely fun. They’re giving me back a sense of control over my own body, safety, and my life.
I sneak a peek toward Logan as he fumbles with the wrapper of a fortune cookie, and my chest swells.
All these feelings I’ve been carrying for Logan used to scare me. I didn’t trust them. I couldn’t tell if what I felt was real or just leftovers from trauma—gratitude masquerading as love, dependence dressed up as affection, safety mistaken for something deeper.
But the more I learn about myself in therapy, the more time I spend healing, the stronger my feelings for him become. And now I know they aren’t rooted in fear or obligation or even the safety he provides.
I’m finally secure enough to sort out my emotions and separate fear from reality.
My heart kicks up when I hear the elevator opening, indicating his return. My body warms when he walks into a room. My breath catches when he smiles at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
And not because I need him—because I want him.
I adore who he is.
I’m attracted to everything about him, from the way he listens when I talk about my day, to how he asks questions wanting to know more, to how he makes me laugh.
He’s so beautiful because he’s kind to everyone, from his rich friends to the gas station attendant.
He loves life and people…and he loves me. I see it in everything he does.
When I have nightmares, he doesn’t try to fix me or make it about him. He just holds me and reminds me I’m safe and stays until I fall back asleep.
He sees me in a way that no one else ever has and finds me worthy exactly the way I am.
I know I’m falling for him for all the right reasons. Not because he rescued me, but because he respects me. Not because I need him, but because I choose him.
Those things matter. I’ve chosen incorrectly before for all the wrong reasons. So knowing that what I feel for Logan is real and right—changes everything.
He cracks open my fortune cookie, pulling out the little slip of paper.
“Okay, what does it say?” I ask Logan.
He scans the small piece of paper, his expression turning serious. “The hot woman sitting beside you is way out of your league.”
I laugh. “It does not.”
“It absolutely does,” he insists, holding the fortune close to his chest so I can’t see it. “Fortune cookies don’t lie, Tessa. This is ancient wisdom.”
“Let me see it.” I reach for the paper, but he holds it higher.
“Fine, fine.” He grins and looks at it again, his voice shifting to something softer. “Okay, it actually says the best things in life are worth waiting for.” This time, I know he’s telling the truth.
My laughter fades as the words settle between us.
He looks at me, his smile gentle now. “I think it’s right.”
“Yeah?” My throat tightens with emotion.
He nods, handing the fortune to me.
“I like this one. Can I keep it?” I ask.
“Of course. What does yours say?”
I look down at my fortune and read, “Adventure awaits. Wear comfortable pants.”
“Really?”
I frown unamused. “Really.”
“Well.” Logan slaps his thighs as he gets up and starts clearing away our take-out containers. “They can’t all be winners.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” I crumple up my fortune and toss it into the bag of trash.