Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Letti
When my cousin and her boyfriend freed me from my indentured life, I never thought this is where it would lead me.
I dreamed of something like this, but never thought it was something that would come to fruition.
I’m now the proud owner of friends that keep me on my toes and never cease to bring a smile to my face, a man that scares the ever-loving bejesus out of everyone around him but is a teddy bear with me, and a group of men who’d bring Hell to earth if I was injured in any way, shape, or form.
My Viking and I may not have a storybook romance, but what we do have fills me full of warmth and I know, without a doubt, that he’ll always be there for me through thick and thin. That’s something I’ll never question.
“Are you sure, Letti?” Van asks me as soon as my man and I offered to watch the kids for Valentine’s Day.
“It’s a lot to take on,” Zoey states, glancing out the window at Elodie, Little G, and Icer.
“Icer doesn’t do Valentine’s Day, he’s made that clear,” I remind them. “In his opinion, it’s a Hallmark holiday and from what he’s said to me, he’d rather do things for me year round to show me how he feels about me then shove it all into one, singular day. And to be honest, I kinda like that.”
“You don’t care if you get a bouquet of flowers, boxes of chocolate, and get dressed up for him to take you out and show you off?” Zoey asks, her brows pinched.
“No, because he does those things for me anyway, and I don’t have to get excited about one day, like I stated, because I get those things weekly,” I admit.
“Weekly?” Van inquires, a slight squeak to her voice.
“You lucky bitch.” We all laugh at that because my man comes across as if he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body, and he doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, but behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, he’s the most affectionate out of them all.
“Besides, keeping the kids is his love language,” I tack on. “And secretly, between us, it’s when I connect with him the most.”
“Elodie’s been acting out a lot lately,” Zoey confesses. “We’re petrified for Icer to find out the reason behind that.”
My spine stiffens and I sneer. “What’s the reason, Zoey?”
“I’m not sure if Icer’s the only one we need to be worried about,” Van says out the side of her mouth, bumping shoulders with Zoey.
“We’re handling it, Letti,” Zoey claims. “We’re going through the official channels.”
“Riptide may have a solution, and they’re working their way through it,” Van supplies.
“First off,” I snap, clicking my tongue. “Tell me where the issue stems from, then let’s talk about the solutions y’all’ve come up with.”
“Letti has a little bossy in her,” Van teases, winking at me.
“I think Icer and his protective nature is rubbing off on her,” Zoey surmises with a nod of her head.
“It’s a bit of both,” I say. “Now, tell me what the issue is?”
“She’s become the main target of bullying,” Zoey acknowledges. “It’s gotten to the point that she’s having nightmares and it takes me forever to coax her out of the house on school days.”
“What’s these kids’ issue?” I ask. “Because Elodie is the sweetest kid on the planet, a little boisterous and she has a bit of a prankster in her, but all kids her age are like that, they have no reason behind their actions and tauntings.”
“These kids hear their parents talking and act accordingly based on what they hear being said. Not everyone in town is overly thrilled about the Kings making this their base of operation,” Zoey explains.
Van clears her throat and says, “Those who are Maloney’s followers and advocates are pushing to have us removed. They don’t like the way the men police the streets.”
“They keep the town from falling into anarchy,” I defend, “fuck knows the ones voted in aren’t doing it. They sit back and turn a blind eye to the Onyx wannabes causing havoc and bullying the small business owners into paying fees for having their shops opened on the main strip.”
“We know all of this, and we agree with you, Letti,” Van conveys.
“One hundred percent. We’re on the fast track of homeschooling Elodie, we just need a few extra days to get everything in order.
For now, we’ve decided that I’ll take over her schooling while the transfer processes.
You can watch over Gagey while I work with Elodie.
That’d be more helpful than you’ll ever know.
I need her entire attention on her work and my teaching, and if my boy is around, she’ll be distracted. ”
I agree by bobbing my head. “I can do that, I love keeping him. He’s so full of smiles and giggles that it’s addictive and catchy.
I always find that I laugh alongside him.
It’s that contagious. There are things I like about what you’ve said except one thing–” I leave my sentence open, narrowing my eyes at Van.
“What’s that?” she asks, her lips tilted upward, finding me amusing.
“When are you going to stop calling that poor kid, Gagey? It gives me a case of the ickies,” I state, sending her a snarl. “You’re opening up a can of worms with that and giving kids a reason to persecute him.”
“I do it because it riles the guys up,” she admits with a shrug of her shoulders. “I find their reactions comical.”
“You have to admit, Letti. It’s pretty funny when all of their chests puff out and they get green around the gills,” Zoey inserts, grinning.
Van high fives Zoey before continuing, “I won’t do it forever. When it’s just me and my boy, I call him little man like his dad does.”
“You’re riling the guys up on purpose?” I ask, but I have to admit, even if it’s just to myself, that it is pretty amusing. “Girl, you like to gamble or something?”
“This is a group game of solitaire,” Van says, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “When we’re done, I’ll have an empty hand and they’ll still be holding onto cards.”
“You’re sneaky, Van. I hope they don’t catch onto what you’re doing,” I state. “Because our guys are not good losers and they’ll take what you’re doing as a direct challenge.”
Her eyes hold mine as she contemplates what I said. “Even if they cotton onto what I’m doing, they’ll just start a new game. But I’m wise to their ways so I’ll be watching for it… if it happens.”
“The guys are far smarter than you’re giving them credit for,” I remind them. “Make sure you’re aware of their every move and don’t call their bluff.”
The men are so damn competitive that I worry sometimes that they’ll take their paybacks too far and someone will end up with more than a skinned knee.
It’s like my grade schoolteacher used to preach—once you shoot that arrow, there’s no bringing it back.
It’s not a boomerang, it’s shot from a bow so it won’t return back to you.
Indiana and Zoey left for their trip, and even though they struggled to leave Elodie behind with all that she’s going through, they eventually did after some coaxing from me.
I think my man knows what’s been happening with his princess because he never lets her out of his sight and they’re always sneaking into a corner to have a pow wow.
I’ve let them do their thing because she needs the support and he needs to give it to her.
She’s his best bud and vice versa. They were already glued at the hip, but nowadays, they’re like Siamese twins, anchored together from top to bottom without any space in between.
My Viking and I still have separate bedrooms, he’s giving me the time I need to come to terms with any sort of sexual encounter.
I’ve been seeing a therapist weekly via a teleconference connection that Booker helped me set up because I’m computer illiterate, but I haven’t been able to climb over that hump from my sexual assault at the hands of those Onyx motherfuckers.
Even though I have desires and needs like every other woman out there, something stops me when things between my Viking and me get hot and heavy.
It’s not that I don’t want him because I do—desperately.
There’s a spark and a butt load of chemistry between us, but when my body is no longer in control and my mind joins the party, I freeze and begin to shake.
Recalling their hands on me and the vile things they spouted resurfaces, it makes my stomach turn and I get a case of the cold chills.
I never seem to be able to warm myself up, not even a hot shower helps regulate my core body temperature.
My frustration is now frustrated.
When I voiced my concerns the other night, worried that he wouldn’t stick around and give my mind the chance to catch up with my body, he told me, “Letti. Goddess. I’m not a boy who’s ruled by his dick.
I’m a grown motherfucking man. There’s more to you and me than a roll between the sheets.
You make me a better man. You have shown me that there’s more to life than how I was living.
I don’t need your body to make me feel whole, baby.
I simply need you in my life, however you feel comfortable being there. ”
With his support, I know that one day I’ll get there.
He has the patience of a saint with me and I have never been more grateful for someone to be in my life than I am for the gift that he has given me—himself.
I know that when my mind eventually heals, he and I will be fire together.
The world will burn down around us when that day comes and I can only cross my fingers that someone will be close by with an extinguisher to put out the flames.
That’s if we don’t burn everything down that’s in close proximity to us.
The odds of that not happening aren’t in our favor.
Every time he touches me, grazes me, my skin ignites and sizzles.
What I wouldn’t give to find a time machine, turn back time, and find him before that gang of misfits found me.
Yeah, I’d seen him out and about but I didn’t think someone like him would be interested in someone like me.
He calls me a goddess but I’m well-aware that it’s more emotional based than my outside appearance.
At least, that’s what I think when I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I do not see what he claims to see when he looks at me, but skunks can’t smell their own odor either so maybe it’s his truth and the way he sees me.
My therapist says that I have put the misgivings of others onto my shoulders and have adopted the evil things that have been said to me for as long as I can remember. My mother’s cold voice always manages to penetrate my mind whenever I start feeling good about myself.
Whenever I feel pretty, I remember her referring to me as the ugly duckling. Whenever I feel tall, I remember the teasing of my short legs and torso. It’s a win-lose situation. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
Stepping out of the shower, I wipe the fog off the mirrors and stare at myself. I follow Mrs. Johanson, my therapist’s recommendation, telling my mirror image. “You are pretty, Letti. You’re smart, worthy, strong, and capable. Don’t let those who tried to take you down win. You’ve got this.”