Chapter 9 Gwen #2
Relieved that I understood, she nodded as I released her. “I appreciate that. That’s why I love having you around. You know firsthand what abuse is like.”
I did. My dad used to get rough with my mom when I was little. He drank too much. Almost ended their marriage before he went to counseling, AA meetings, and turned his life around. Still, I saw too much as a child. I swore I’d never allow a man to hurt me.
And then I had an ex a few years ago who roughed me up and put me in the hospital. I pressed charges and helped get Max convicted and behind bars. I liked to think I wasn’t a victim, but a survivor. Like so many of the women here in this shelter.
Ethan and Becka had their own experiences in childhood. We were all survivors. For some reason, Ethan got the worst of it. Maybe that was why he channeled a lot of that trauma into boxing. In the ring, he could conquer those demons. Becka did the same in the military.
“We’ve got a good class today. Ten are signed up.”
Ten? “That’s fantastic.” I usually only had six or seven show up. I loved the idea of a full room. I always packed extra supplies in case anyone else wanted to join us.
“I’ll leave you to it.”
Cary left shortly before the women began arriving.
Before I knew it, I had their attention and began describing how to junk journal and how it could be therapeutic.
I always talked about how writing down our feelings can help process what we’ve been through, using my own experience with my ex as an example.
Over two hours later, women began to leave with their journals. Some didn’t have many stickers or designs. Others were full of butterflies, flowers, and sparkles. All of them journaled, even if it was only a few words. Powerful ones that reclaimed what had been stolen from them.
With pride, I dismissed the class, excited to hear they wanted to learn more and attend the next one.
Women often cycled through the shelter. Sometimes they had other places to go.
Or there weren’t enough beds to keep them long-term.
Some of them chose to return to the houses they fled.
I didn’t judge any of them. That was a personal choice for every woman who arrived here.
Cary met them where they were and offered help, guidance, and a little peace.
“Um, excuse me, Gwen?”
I turned around, noticing only one woman had remained while I started to clean and pack up my supplies. “Hi. Penny, right?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the floor, and I wondered if she was shy.
“Can I help you with anything?”
“I just wanted to say this was nice. I loved making the journal.”
“I’m so glad. I hope you’ll come to the next one.”
She didn’t meet my gaze. “I will if I’m still here.”
My heart went out to her as I wondered about her story. Her truth. Maybe she was still figuring that out, and that was okay. Everyone had their own pace. “It’s lovely to meet you, Penny.”
“I know this is a lot to ask, but,” she faltered and backed up a step like she wasn’t going to finish her sentence.
“It’s okay. Ask me.”
“Could I exchange numbers with you? I just, I could use someone to talk to, and it’s hard here.”
I completely understood. “Of course.” I unlocked my cell and handed it to her.
She typed her contact information in and then returned it to me.
I texted her “hi” with a smiley face emoji. She sent the same thing back.
“Now we’re friends.”
“I like that. Thanks, Gwen.”
She rushed from the room as I smiled. Such a sweet, meek girl. I was happy to exchange numbers. She needed a friend, and I could never have too many.
Cary left the building at the same time I did, and we ended up going to dinner.
I sat across from her at a booth while we waited for our meals.
It was a fifties-inspired diner with plastic seats and records on the walls.
A jukebox played old tunes from the corner.
It smelled like French fries and sugary sweet syrup—an odd but not unpleasant combination.
We both ordered shakes and cheeseburgers. She got onion rings while I opted for a side salad.
As we waited for the food, we caught up since it had been a couple of weeks since I’d been to the shelter.
I usually stopped by once a week, but since meeting Cin, I’d been extra busy.
Not to mention that my online business had picked up and I was packing orders for Dreamweaver Crafts and mailing them out more frequently.
“So, are you going to tell me about the bad boy biker? Because I’m dying to know all the details.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “He’s as good in bed as he looks. Dangerous but protective. Powerful but gentle with me. Cin is everything I didn’t know I was looking for, Cary.”
“Sin? Damn. That’s a name.”
“Cinerator is his road name. Not the kind of sin you’re thinking of, but he sure is eye candy.”
Cary almost spit out her drink as she chuckled.
Our food arrived, and we ate, still talking about my biker.
And he was mine, just as I had become his.
Not in the sense that we were actual property.
He didn’t mean it that way. At least, I didn’t think he did.
It was more about possessiveness of the heart and soul, not in any way that was oppressive or degrading.
It spoke to me of commitment and intention, and that was a good thing.
“You’ve got a dreamy look in your eyes.”
“I guess I do, Cary. I’m happy. Ridiculously happy.”
“Good for you.”
My phone vibrated inside my purse, and I checked the screen. Cin had sent a text showing only emojis. A bed, lips, eggplant, and a purple smiley face with horns. He must be feeling playful. Or maybe he was just horny. Pun intended.
I couldn’t help smiling as I sent back my own set of emojis.
He replied with a sad face.
So silly.
“He wants to see you, doesn’t he?”
When I looked up from my phone, Cary shook her head.
“Girl, if I had a man like that waiting to warm my bed, I wouldn’t be sitting here and making him wait.”
“God, Cary. The sex.” I knew I was turning tomato red talking about it in public, but I couldn’t help it. “The man knows what he’s doing. How to explore a woman’s body. Even his kisses.” I fanned myself with my hand. “So hot.”
“I’m so jealous.” She gestured toward the door. “Get out of here. Dinner is my treat. You always give so much to the shelter and classes out of your own pocket. Let me show my gratitude.”
“You’re the best, Cary. Thanks!”
I slid from the booth and waved to her as I left the diner. The whole ride home I thought of Cin. In a rush, I left the boxes of craft supplies in my truck, locked it, and swiped my key card to enter the building.
The security guard greeted me with a smile. “Hey, Gwen. How’s your evening?”
I couldn’t remember his name. He was one of the newer ones.
“Hi. Good. Thank you. Yours?”
I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t going to stop and have a conversation while Cin was probably in my room. Maybe naked. I shivered in anticipation as I mashed the button for the elevator. This thing ran far too slow sometimes.
“I’m great. Have a good night.”
“You too!” I called after him as the door opened and I stepped into the elevator. Once it reached my floor, I rushed out of it and toward my apartment.
My body quivered with excitement as I opened the door and stepped inside, dropping my purse, keys, and jacket before I rushed toward my bedroom. Just like I predicted, Cin was there. Waiting in just a pair of low-slung black jeans as he crossed his arms, leaning against the windowsill.
“You kept me waiting, Bambi.”
His sinful, guttural tone wrapped me in warm sensations, need coiling inside my core as I sauntered toward him. His mouth quirked up on one side. The green in his eyes shimmered. I knew I tested him. His restraint. His patience.
I loved knowing I had some control over him.
Why? Because he had me utterly under his control, ready to drop to my knees and worship him the way a man, a god like him, deserved.
He lashed out toward me as soon as I was within reaching distance and spun me around, pressing my back into the bedroom wall beside the window. My wrists were snatched and shoved high above my head. He pinned them there with one hand while he stared into my eyes.
“Seems you think you’re the one in charge again, little deer.”
Unable to help it, I slowly smiled. “I am.”
“Tsk, tsk, Bambi. You need to be taught a lesson.”
His lips lowered to my neck. Open-mouthed, he took my flesh between his teeth and sucked.
It took everything I had not to give him much of a reaction, holding back a moan. My knees almost buckled. Head tipped back, I was in ecstasy until I heard my brother’s furious voice.
“Get your fucking hands off my sister, asshole.”