54. The brightest spots
Chapter 54
The brightest spots
LETTIE
F or the first time in days, my heart isn’t in pain. It’s my muscles that ache, but only in the best way. A delicious soreness that comes from being pounded into the mattress. Hallelujah .
It’s hard to believe this day started with me contemplating murder and then continued with me embarrassing myself in front of a conference room full of strangers. When I look back on today, those won’t be the events I recall. Not even how I tossed my cookies minutes after coming face to face with my birth father.
It’ll be the love. And the most passionate lovemaking.
There’s a soft knock at my door, making my heart skip a beat. As I glide toward the door, a sense of giddiness bubbles in my chest. Is it him?
Silly to wish for that, considering how busy he must be at Redleg. Yet I hope it’s him all the same.
The sting of disappointment when I see Sabrina through the peephole is only a momentary blip since I like her.
I open the door, wearing a genuine smile. “Hey, girl.”
Her stoic demeanor is a little jarring. “Can we talk?”
A chill runs down my spine. “Sure. Want to come in?”
Nodding, she breezes into my room. Not sure what’s going on with her, but she’s acting like she’s got a burr in her saddle.
I gesture to my mini fridge and stash of protein bars, nuts, and chips. “Something to drink? A snack?”
She waves me off, lowering to a chair. “Nah, I’m good.”
Taking her cue, I join her at the small table. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Did you have a guy here today?” Her tone is harsh, entirely at odds with how she’s been since I arrived several days ago.
And her words are very blunt.
“Um, yes. Is that a problem?”
Instead of answering, she asks a question of her own. “Who was it?”
Searching my memory bank, I recall the rules I signed when I moved in. Visitors were fine, but male visitors were a touchy subject, so additional rules were in place. They aren’t allowed to ever be left alone in the facility. It’s essential they pass a security check and aren’t the abuser who sent the woman to the shelter.
Oh, and we were supposed to keep to our private rooms to avoid upsetting other girls. I didn’t break any rules, but the accusation in her expression makes me feel guilty.
“It was Tomer. My boyfriend.”
Her eyes narrow brutally, judgment and condemnation swirling over her.
I quickly add, “He was the one who saved us.”
She draws her tongue over her lips, gaze flicking to the ceiling. “I get that, and I’m grateful for what he did.”
“But?”
“Seeing him here was upsetting for some of the girls.”
My exhale flutters out on a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to upset or trigger anyone. Who do I need to apologize to?”
“Don’t bother. Just keep him away. K?”
A twitch traverses my facial muscles at the idea of not being able to see him until I’m ready to move out. Then again, I suppose I could have him pick me up, and we can leave occasionally. Yet I don’t think Boss Dad or Tomer will like that. Not exactly safe for me to go prancing around town right now.
And to be frank, I’m not okay with it either, which surpasses all other objections.
This is worse than melted fudge bars with no napkins in sight.
“Sabrina, he’s important to me. And I don’t want to forgo seeing him indefinitely. I mean,” my voice quivers, “I have no idea how long I’ll be living here. It’s unfair to ask me to refuse him a chance to visit.”
“After what he did to you?” she seethes.
My head rears back like I’ve been slapped. “Excuse me? What he did to me?”
The only one in this place I told about Tomer’s deceit was my therapist, Simone. There’s no way she blabbed. No freaking way. And if she did, I’ll be fit to be tied.
“Come on, Lettie. Don’t bullshit me.”
Since I’m about to be up in arms, I cross them suckers over my chest. “I ain’t bullshittin’ ya, Sabrina. And don’t quite like the attitude you’ve charged in here with.”
She rolls her eyes. “On the day you got here, the linguistic gymnastics you did to avoid accusing him of sending you here was laughable. But I let you have it then. No sense making you feel worse than he probably did by kicking you out. Naturally, it triggered a few of us to see you take him back so easily. We’re here to heal, not fall back into toxic shit.”
“You think he kicked me out?”
“Lettie, it’s okay to admit it. That’s why most of the girls came here. Not me, since there was no way in hell I was going back to my dad’s trailer. As for the others? They got a similar shitty reception when they got home. At first, your family or boyfriend is happy to see you. Relieved you’re safe. Then it shifts. The blame starts. The snide comments. Implying you did it to yourself or were asking for it.” She shakes her head, disgust undermining her features. “Then there’s the way they look at us. Like we’re dirty. Damaged. It’s never the same again. And the way you avoided talking about him that day was a big red flag. So we can’t understand why you’d take him back after he treated you that way.”
Heart in tatters, I rub my sternum to dull the pain. “Wait. That’s what happened to some of the girls when they got home? That’s awful.”
Devastating . And entirely different from how I was treated when I got home to Tomer. The opposite. Even Stella and Freya were compassionate. Although, the way they looked at me... I get what Sabrina means by that, even though it wasn’t ill-intentioned.
She studies my reaction closely. “Hold up. You’re serious?”
“Yes. I swear I had no idea that happened to the others. But it wasn’t like that for me. Tomer didn’t kick me out or make me feel dirty. In fact, he begged me to stay. And my gosh, the tender way he cared for me was...” Words fail me as images of his compassion fly behind my eyes. “It was everything I could have asked for. It’s heartbreaking that the other girls didn’t have the same type of love waiting for them.” I reach across the table to grab her hand. “Sabrina, I’m sorry you didn’t either.”
Her gaze falls to our joined hands. Tears pool in her eyes.
Drawn to comfort her more, I add, “You didn’t deserve what happened to you. Not in that house or any of the times before. And I hope and pray with all my heart you find someone who loves you as wholly as Tomer loves me. Because you should be loved properly. We all deserve that.”
By the time I’m done rambling, we’re both crying. She keeps our hands locked together the whole time, her grip tightening as my words rock through her.
After a long spell of silence, only disturbed by our sporadic sniffles, she meets my eyes. “Tina was right about you.”
I blink away my tears. “What?”
“She’s always talking about how you saved us. Like you were an angel watching over us who stepped in to intervene. You were so supportive while we were there, as if you were sent to give us hope so we could endure what happened. And then delivering us out of there via your boyfriend.”
“Honey, I’m no angel. I worked at a kink club before this.”
Her eyes shoot wide, and her brows reach for the ceiling. “Did not see that one coming.”
“It happens.” I shrug. “The sexually repressed, especially those with religious trauma, often find themselves in the kink community.”
She nods her head animatedly, eyes still bulging. “The things you learn.”
We share a laugh.
Almost immediately, her face sobers. “Listen, Lettie. I just realized something I said might have come across insensitive.”
“Which part?”
Let’s be real. The entire first half of this conversation was drenched with insensitivity.
Her head tips to the side, and she hits me with a playful glare.
“Sorry. Kidding. Sort of.” I fight off a giggle. “What was it?”
“I mean, it’s one thing to think someone was forced into that hell by some mystical higher power to save us. It’s another to say it out loud to said person.” She gestures toward me. “I’m sorry. It was an incredibly selfish comment, and it discounts what you endured. Your suffering isn’t about us any more than mine is about you. I should have kept that thought to myself.”
“That’s okay, Sabrina. I didn’t take it that way. It’s sweet of Tina and you to think that.”
A wide grin spreads her cheeks and thins her lips. “Precisely what an angel would say.”
Leaning back in my chair, my eyes roll so sharply that my head goes along with it. “Great. Another nickname. First, butterfly, and now angel.”
“Butterfly?” Her eyes draw in tight, then spring wide again. “Oh that’s right. The song.”
She sits thoughtfully for a moment, then a deep laugh erupts from her chest.
“What’s so funny?”
“Why don’t you look up the symbolism of butterflies and angels when I leave?”
My eyes fall to my phone on the other side of the room, and impatience has me lurching to my feet. Sabrina rises too, but she edges toward the door while I head to get my answer delivery system.
“Later, butterfly.”
“Wait.” Abandoning my search for knowledge temporarily , I stride over to her. “Give me a hug.”
Grinning, she obliges. I rub her back in long strokes, holding her tight to me. This poor girl and all she’s been through.
She breaks the hug and reaches for the door, glancing over her shoulder at me. A hint of concern dances behind her eyes. “Oh, so about your boyfriend.” She scratches the back of her head. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for him to come for a while. He’s a big reminder of that horrible place. And although he saved us, um... he’s a man, and he saw us there. At our worst. And it’s hard for some of us to?—”
I cut her off, pain once again squeezing my heart in a vise. “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, butterfly,” she whispers before she departs.
With my back to the closed door, I shut my eyes and fight off the onslaught of sadness piercing through me. What she said about how the other girls were treated when they got home sails through my psyche. I was so dang lucky with Tomer.
As much as I want to protect the girls, not seeing him for long stretches of time doesn’t sit right.
He’s my person.
A deep longing stirs inside me, tightening around my torso like a chest harness. The ones Tomer would make for me out of soft rope. That soothing pressure was so comforting once. Now it’s different. The idea of being restrained is uncomfortable at best. Terrifying at worst.
Despite being here less than a week, perhaps it’s time to go. Obviously, keeping with the regular therapy. I wonder if Simone could do some sessions virtually so I don’t have to come here every day. Especially considering the shit with the Russians.
I grab my phone to message Tomer. No sense in getting my hopes up if he wants me to stay here.
Me:
Can we talk about my living arrangements?
I hope he says yes . Not because I’m scared to be alone or dependent on him. And only a little bit because I hate the idea of him showing up here upsetting the girls. Yet going without seeing him for long periods isn’t an option.
At the heart of it all, I simply want to be with him. I love him.
While waiting for his reply, I pull up a browser and search the butterfly angel thing that had Sabrina laughing. Before I scan the results, Tomer’s reply pings through.
My love??:
Interesting timing. I was about to ask you something on that topic. Should we talk rather than text? I can step out to call you. And wipe that cringe off your pretty face.
Me:
How late are you working? All night?
My love??:
Unclear. Not all night. Some of the others are cutting out to get some rest and take care of shit at home. Want me to come over there when I’m done so we can talk?
I bite my lip, utterly desperate to say yes. I missed him two minutes after he left. I’d love to see him again tonight. However, I don’t want to upset the girls. There’s only one option. And I hate it.
Gritting my teeth, I type out my reply.
Me:
Sigh. Call me.
The phone rings a few seconds later.
“Hey, babe,” I answer on the first ring before I accidentally send it to voicemail out of habit or self-preservation.
“Hi, sugar bear. You okay?” His rich voice is a soothing balm to my phone aversion.
“I’m good. Did you get in trouble for being gone so long?”
“Nah. Klein gave me some guilt, but he got over it.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat, itching to get to the point but nervous about his potential reactions. “Babe, listen. So about my living situation...”
“I was gonna call you about that tonight. You go first.”
“Not sure if we’re on the same page about this. Keep in mind you’re under no obligation to agree to what I’m about to say. It’s a suggestion. A wondering. That’s all.”
“Quit stalling, sugar,” he teases, playfulness woven into his tone.
Welp . Like I did the first time he came in my mouth, I spit it out. “What are your thoughts on me moving in with you?”
The split-second I finish the question, he rushes out his response. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”
My heart launches into my throat. “Really?”
“Yes. Immediately. How quickly can you pack?”
His joke is likely rooted in an honest question. And one I can answer without any lingering doubts.
“How about after group therapy tonight? That’ll give me time to pack and go talk to the coordinators to see about outpatient services. So let’s say... eight?”
I’ll also get to say goodbye to the girls at group, reassuring them I’m not abandoning them and will be back for outpatient care.
“During the days and perhaps some nights, would you be opposed to spending time here at Redleg? They’re converting some of the offices downstairs into bunk rooms, anticipating some people might not feel safe at home. Others might need to rest after working long days and nights. Would you be open to that? Not a ton of things to do here, but we can figure out how to keep you entertained. There’s a nice gym here. I’ll feel better having you with me while I work.”
“Hmm.” I tap my fingertip over my lips. “I hadn’t thought of that, but do you think Boss Dad would be okay with it? I don’t want to make it weird for either of you.”
His returning laugh goes straight to my nipples. “Sugar bear, if it were up to Big Al, he’d put all Redleg staff and our loved ones in bubble wrap, then stack us up in his office so he could watch over everyone himself.”
“That’s equal parts horrifying and hilarious.”
“To answer your question, he won’t mind. He’ll be happy about it.”
I click my tongue four times. “Won’t it look like I’m flinging myself onto his lap and begging for attention? The getting-to-know-each-other stage shouldn’t be forced. I’ll text him. He gave me his number.”
“He’s in the car now, so he’ll likely call you once he sees your text.”
“Eww.”
Tomer’s vibrato chuckle progresses from tickling my nipples to pinching and rolling them.
Well, snap my garters . I love his laugh.
“Sweetness, he’s on his way back to HQ and will be in my office in twenty minutes. I’ll ask him and let you know what he says. Regardless of his answer, I’ll pick you up after group therapy. You’re sleeping in my arms, starting tonight until the end of time.”
My chest feels tight, but not with sadness or worry this time. It’s because my heart is bursting with love.
We say our goodbyes, adding approximately twenty-seven I love yous each before ending the call.
My eyes land back on the search results on my phone. Page after page of references to mythology, folklore, and religious sites. They all have similar takes on the symbolism, albeit from different viewpoints. In addition to the standard stuff about butterflies representing metamorphosis, there’s quite a bit more specific to angels.
Skimming through the descriptions, I find myself giggling and wearing a rapidly stretching smile.
Angels use butterflies to send messages to earth.
Native Americans believed that the beautiful patterns on a butterfly’s wings are the thumbprints of angels.
The Aztecs thought butterflies were used to usher the souls of fallen warriors into the afterlife.
Seeing a butterfly is often viewed as receiving a message from a deceased loved one.
Naturally, that makes me think of Papa, widening my smile even more. However, one description in particular shifts my reaction from amusement to something deeper.
My throat grows thick, and tears prick at the backs of my eyes as I re-read the line.
As messengers of hope, endurance, and life, butterflies are angels watching over you.
Aren’t those some of the same descriptors Sabrina used a few moments ago when she likened me to an angel, as absurd a notion as it may be?
My breath catches in my throat. One of Papa’s life lessons rings clear as a bell. Don’t dwell on the bad, Lettie bear. Find them bright spots in the gloomy clouds.
Since I was taken, I couldn’t fathom any bright spots existing in such a horrific nightmare. It was all suffering for the sake of suffering. Or a punishment.
Maybe I was wrong.
For something to shine through clouds as dark and thick as those, it would need to be something momentous. Unfiltered sunshine.
Who am I to deny those girls if they feel my presence in that house gave them hope and helped them endure? And when Tomer and his team saved me, the girls were saved too. Tina was right in saying they wouldn’t have been freed if I wasn’t there. I can’t dispute that.
My pain had a greater purpose.
My suffering wasn’t needless.
The journey ahead of me won’t be easy. Healing from something like this is bound to be a bumpy road. When it gets hard, I’ll cling to this moment. Regardless of whether it’s real, the hope this gives me isn’t all that different from what they say I gave them as a butterfly.
Hope is never a bad thing. It’s the rope floating in front of you when you’re sinking. Grab it and let it keep you above water when you’re too exhausted to keep treading.
As for me, I’m holding on with both hands.