Chapter 12
November 2023
It’s been a few weeks since we got back from Joshua Tree, and I’m still on a high from that trip. Being loved by Grant has never been hard. Feeling his love, even from across the continents, is something I have always felt within my heart. But that week together felt like a recalibration of sorts between us.
We didn’t leave the hotel room after we had sex. We continued to connect in that way throughout the rest of the evening and into the early morning hours. His kisses along my skin felt like an electromagnetic shock across my body. He and I are connected in a way I have never experienced with another person.
Our adventure continued to the yoga retreat. We met some incredible people who I hope we stay connected with as we move forward in our lives. Cleo was our instructor, and she was full of insightful passages, messages of hope, and a zest for life. Everything she said wasn’t necessarily eye-opening. But I was in a place of receiving at that time, and it really found a connection deep within me, and I’ve carried it ever since.
Grant has been practicing yoga for some time. His movements were proof of that. His ability to bend in certain ways was impressive, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. The warmth of the sun at that time of year was perfect for outdoor yoga, along with some time in the yurt, which was a new experience for me. Grant has traveled to so many places and has embraced so many new experiences along the way. But he said that doing those things with me made it feel like a first once again for him.
We came together beyond the physical sense. We opened up to one another to allow the vulnerability to seep out of us and be embraced by the other. Unfortunately, I didn’t let everything out. I still harbor a secret I haven’t divulged to anyone before, not even my sister. I have held on to this since that ill-fated day back in Wyoming.
During my recovery, many of my feelings were mine; at least, that’s how I interpreted them. I didn’t feel like sharing my personal tragedies was something that someone else could make me do. It was the little control I had at the time. I felt like they didn’t need to be shared, but the longer I hold on to this, the more I know it will bring many unopened wounds to the surface, not just for me, but for the man that holds every aspect of my heart in his hands.
That’s the hard part about all this. I want everything with Grant. And from the little movements, his simple touches, even moments where he opened up to me, I could feel he wanted the same. I think we are finally on the same page, aside from the fact that I might cause things to vanish between us if I were to divulge the whole truth behind the aftermath of the events on my college campus.
I just hope Grant understands that he doesn”t fully comprehend the hurt and the pain that I have taken on since that day years ago. I hope that with my confession comes clarity to him for all the pain I harbored throughout the years. It goes beyond the lives I saw lost that day. It’s a loss so personal that it sometimes takes over my soul in a way that is felt deeper in my bones than anything else I’ve experienced.
Since returning from California, I feel a little lighter in some ways. Some moments I feel completely open to trying things with Grant, but then I feel clarity seeping in and concern clouds my judgment and I feel myself retreating from throwing myself into his arms and into a future together.
I”ve kept busy with my sister and her family, along with teaching at the studio. Connecting with students has been a nice pace for me and makes me feel like I”m stepping into some areas of life that once brought anxiety for me.
I’m making my way upstairs after seeing my sister and her kids off to school. I was having trouble sleeping last night, so I am hoping a cup of tea will do the trick and help me lie down for a few more hours. I got a message from Grant that he would be flying back for Thanksgiving, so my excitement has increased tenfold since getting this news.
“Well, how do you feel about just opening up to Grant and letting him decide how he wants to move forward?” Evelyn once again throws a question in my direction and I feel like that particular one gives me the most anxiety.
“I feel anxious about it. Hence my inability to open up to him,” I give her an exasperated look through the zoom camera.
Sometimes our visits needs to be remote because she’s got a packed schedule. Today it’s my fault I opted for a virtual visit versus an in-person one. I teach in a few hours and needed to get a session in.
The more I sit around with my thoughts, the more uncomfortable I am on how to move forward. Now that Grant’s arrival is hours away, instead of weeks like I initially had, I feel like my secret is getting heavier on my shoulders.
“Laney, listen, I know it’s hard. You know holding onto things like this isn’t just bad for your emotional well-being, but will hurt more the moment you confess it to him. You owe it to him, but also to yourself, to let this off your chest. It will not be easy, but I don’t think you can really focus on what you and Grant could build without resolving what’s behind you.”
She’s said this to me before. All this isn’t news to me, but each time I get an inkling of courage to come clean with Grant, something holds me back. I’ve done this so many times with Evelyn and she’s always so patient with me as I work through my thoughts.
“Losing Grant is my biggest fear. For so long, our relationship wasn’t threatened, but since everything happened years ago, this has felt like something he will never be able to see past with me. I can almost see his expression of pain and sadness when I say it out loud to him. I’ll break him, Evelyn. I just know I will,” I sigh and feel the tears pooling in my eyes. I know my fears are warranted, but the way I’m holding off on saying something is making this whole thing so much worse.
“Laney, that is definitely a possibility. He could be angry. He could choose to walk away. We’ve talked about that scenario and I know how heartbreaking that would be for you and for him. But let’s think of something else. What if he doesn’t leave you behind? What if he finds it in him to understand your point of view? I think you need to give him this opportunity to shine for you. You’re not only holding onto this big piece of the puzzle, but you’re decided how he’s going to react and walk away. You’re not giving him the opportunity for your love for one another to shine. That’s not fair.”
“You’re right. Everything you’re saying makes sense. I just feel a bit fragile letting this out after so long. I can’t guarantee I will say anything before the holidays. I’m going to try though.” I sit up taller, determination in my posture.
“You’ll figure out when the right time is. Just know you aren’t alone. And even if Grant is angry, you have to let him be to figure this out for himself too. Don’t disregard him if he needs space afterwards. Remember that,” she says and I nod in agreement.
We finish the call and I know that I need to find the right time to confess everything that happened years ago. The problem remans: when is the right time to possibly ruin everything with the man you love?
“Take a collective breath in, then open your mouth and let it all go. Let go of your worries, your frustrations, your pain, and simply feel the strength you possess on your mat right now. Nothing else will serve you while you’re in this room. Feel free to continue in Savasana for as long as you’d like. I will be at the front desk when you’re ready to make your way out.”
I make the announcement to my yoga students as class comes to an end and make my way through the bodies lying on their mats, each one on a personal journey while in this sacred room. There’s something transformative about yoga in general, but now that I’ve started teaching the new hot classes Loni began offering, I feel a different experience teaching this area of yoga.
I feel a wave of nausea take over, and I concentrate on my breath, calming the discomfort as I get closer to the door and into an area of fresh air. I grab my phone, the music playing softly through the studio speakers, and I walk out into the lobby of the yoga studio. I let the coolness of the air conditioning flowing through the hallway wash over me. Soon, the nausea subsides, and it’s like nothing was ever wrong. I brush it aside, hoping whatever it was passes quickly. I’m always catching germs from my sister’s kids, and this is probably a last-minute Thanksgiving treat the kids have brought home.
Loni isn’t in today, so I will be locking up after this class. I’m looking at the computer, making sure everything is ready for the weekend, when a few from my class start to filter out into the lobby. They’re giving me well wishes for a happy Thanksgiving holiday and the gratitude I feel as I see everyone is washing over me. I took next week off to spend with family and to visit with my parents and Becca’s oldest, Olive, while she’s in town.
With Thanksgiving less than a week away, I’m feeling my excitement build in anticipation of seeing everyone. My parents, although still living in Saddle Ridge, will be in town. They aren’t home much these days, using this time to travel and usually making frequent stops here in New York to visit all of us now that their whole family resides in one place. The worry my parents have for me is constant, but seeing them let go a bit and travel gives me hope that they’re seeing me thrive more than suffer.
Tonight, I’m kicking off the weekend by going out with Becca and my sister. Ellie has been struggling with a difficult parent of one of her students, and she needs a night out. I didn’t want to join; if I’m being honest, crowds in confined places continue to be a source of stress and anxiety for me. But I could see the excitement on my sister’s face when she proposed said girls’ night, so it’s in the works for a few hours from now. Grant has permission to crash, and I hope he does so early on because his presence soothes my nerves.
I’m typing something into the computer when I hear a throat clear in front of me. I look up and find one of my regular students standing there, nerves evident on his face.
“Great class, Laney. Thanks so much. Always wonderful watching you teach.” Yeah, he’s nervous and uncomfortable. He’s been in my class many times in the last year since he started here at the studio, and by now, I’d expect him to feel a little more at ease around me, but he’s still bashful in many ways.
“Thanks, Tad. I appreciate your dedication to your practice. Your tree pose is really coming along. I remember when you had issues balancing, and now you’re swaying your arms with minimal movement of your standing leg. That’s amazing.” He smiles as I say this.
I move from behind the desk, saying my goodbyes to more students while Tad nervously stays planted where he has been. As I wave to one of the students walking out the door, I turn my attention back to Tad.
“Um, so Laney, I was wondering if, um—” He coughs, clearly having issues getting his thoughts together. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and I swear I hear him say under his breath, get it together. “Yeah, so I was wondering if you have plans this weekend.”
I’m shocked, to say the least. I’m not usually one to date a student, especially one from the studio I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. The awkwardness this would pose if things didn’t work out would really throw off my chakras. Plus, my whole Grant situation, it’s a hard pass.
I’m about to answer when I hear a voice I didn’t expect.
“Sorry, man, she has plans with me all weekend.” Grant’s imposing frame stands next to me, his arm coming over my shoulder.
I look up at him, my brows furrowing with his alpha male personality shining through. Grant is usually so easygoing that it’s rare to find him acting like this. I can handle myself right now, and I can’t help the irritation that bubbles from Grant pushing himself into this conversation.
“Oh, sorry. Um, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Tad is looking at me, discomfort etching in all his features now. Shit, this is exactly why I try to avoid situations like these.
“Now you know,” Grant says, his smirk coming out full force.
Tad pretty says a few quick goodbyes and nearly sprints out of the studio. I watch him leave, amazed he didn’t leave a puff of smoke in his trail like Wylie Coyote.
The moment Tad is out of sight, I bring my gaze to Grant, who is full-blown smiling, dimples popping and all.
“What the hell, Grant? I think you made him wet his pants.” I move from under his arm.
Grant doesn’t seem phased by his behavior and rests his tall frame against the front desk.
“Well, Laney, last I checked, we have some unresolved things to discuss. I think it’s safe to say you and I are more a thing than you and your student would be. Also,” he looks me right in the eyes when he adds, “let’s stop running from this.”
Oh my goodness. So, after all these years, this is finally coming to the surface? Here at the yoga studio where I’m currently standing in my sweaty gear and looking like a drowned rat. Gross.
Shit, the nausea is making itself known again. I’m about to say something, but instead, I make my way through the studio to the back, where I throw the bathroom door open and rush to the toilet. I feel that nasty taste overpower my salivary glands, but then the feeling subsides.
I walk to the sink and throw some cold water on my face. I look up and find Grant behind me, his easy, charming smile gone, now replaced with concern. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at me. I see my reflection in the mirror in front of me. I’ve gone pale.
“The kids probably brought something home from school. I think I’ve been fighting it all week, now that I think about it. I went to bed early, and I think I’m just getting it out of my system. Best keep your distance, ‘boyfriend.’” I use air quotes for the term that Tad used, noting Grant didn’t correct him. Although neither did I.
This doesn’t seem to appease Grant, as he watches me walk out of the bathroom and move throughout the studio, cleaning up the yoga room and then shutting everything off. I get my coat on, along with my puffy boots, and wait for Grant to walk out with me. He’s been quiet since I had my little episode in the restroom. I know he’s taking everything in. I’m going to let him do that. I have an evening out to prepare for.
We start to walk toward the house when he finally speaks up. “You think it’s a good idea to go out tonight?” His words are laced with concern.
I roll my eyes. “Grant, it’s fine. It was probably the sandwich I ate yesterday. It did sit funny after I finished it. Maybe the deli meat went bad. I’ll be fine. I went to bed early, and even with the crazy dreams thrown in there, I got enough hours to get through the night out. I’m fine.” I feel like I’m not just saying this to him but to myself. I cannot get sick right before everyone comes over next week. That would make for an awful Thanksgiving celebration. Usually, I’m the first to bail on going out somewhere, but now that Grant is back, I’m excited to try something new tonight with all of us hanging out.
“Well, I can cancel with Timothy tonight if you want. I can just go with you girls to the bar instead of meeting you there later.” I know he’s worried, but this is a bit much.
“No, Grant. Go out with Timothy. I know you’ve been meaning to see him the last few times you’ve been in town, and you haven’t had the opportunity. Go, have fun, then meet when you’re done. I think my sister needs some girl time, so this will work perfectly.”
We reach the stairs leading to the brownstone. Grant seems to be dressed to head out to see his friend, so he doesn’t need more time to get ready. Of course, after he feels my forehead to ensure I don’t have a fever before turning to look for his Uber. I think he forgets his sister is the one with the medical degree, not him.
I roll my eyes but follow it up with a smile, and he gives me a small smirk in return. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, but as he turns to walk away, I grab his hand and give him a proper kiss goodbye. He doesn’t hesitate and returns the kiss, my body feeling like jelly as I feel myself melt into him. Then, as quickly as we started this connection, he pulls away, and I watch him walk toward the awaiting car.
I watch him walk away and I can’t help but notice how easy life would be if we simply molded into the couple we could be together. For a split second I forget how quickly that can come crashing down the moment I open up to him completely.
I make my way into the house to get myself ready to hang out with two of my favorite women. However, even after telling Grant how much better I feel, I realize I’m going to need some coffee or something. I can already feel my eyelids drooping.
The music is pumping, and I feel a little lighter tonight. My sister and Becca are beside me, and we are all letting go. Becca recently reconnected with her old high school boyfriend, and I can see this is the happiest she’s ever been. She looks free in a way I didn’t realize she lacked before. I guess there’s something about love that simply carries us to a different dimension in this life. I hope I can open myself up in the way I’ve seen her do these last few months with Shane.
The number of people that were here when we arrived was not too overwhelming, but then the crowd starts to multiply and I see more people get on the dance floor. Even with me working hard to merge into this part of my life again, it’s hard to feel confined in a small space with a lot of people.
That day in Wyoming, I wasn’t in a crowded room, nor was I in a place where I ever imagined my life could be in danger. But the claustrophobia I now experience rises from the fact that I don’t want to feel trapped. I think that feeling of being unable to get out is a feeling that simply overwhelms me to my core.
My eyes are dashing left and right, and I feel my pulse accelerate. Right then, I feel a set of hands move around my hips. The moment I’m about to react to being touched without permission, I look up to find Grant gazing down at me. The minute I register his presence, I feel my whole body relax. He’s a balm to my nerves, a source of calm in the storm.
“It’s okay, Bean. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen. Just close your eyes and feel the music.” I feel him move behind me, swaying his hips, my body moving at the same rhythm, and all I feel is love when, a moment ago, I felt hesitation.
I hear Becca pull Grant’s attention for a moment, and I can’t help but chuckle at her scolding of Grant for not greeting her. It’s pretty funny to see her all worked up, but the moment Grant gives her his puppy eyes, she caves every single time.
They share the same eye color, but something about the way Grant uses his charm pulls everyone into his orbit when he wants their praise. He’s magnetic and vibrant in a way that no one else has been for me.
As the two Stanley siblings have their little squabble, I feel eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and I can’t help swinging my gaze from left to right, unable to shake that feeling I’m being watched. I look all around me, but the people are filtering onto the dance floor quickly as the music picks up. Just then, I feel my hand being pulled and I focus on the man in front of me.
Grant pulls me from my thoughts and that unease washes away. Grant’s attention is purely on me again, and I feel us moving further into the crowd. I know what he’s doing, trying to get me more comfortable surrounded by bodies moving on this dance floor. I’m lost in his touch, forgetting the panic that was coursing through my system moments before he arrived.
We sway, moving to the beat of the music and caressing one another with our hands everywhere, except in the places I need him most. This dance is like our foreplay, and for some reason, that’s the only place my mind has gone. I crave him in a way I haven’t really leaned in to for so long. But since our trip out west, I feel like I’ve opened Pandora”s box, and I need to feel us together in an intimate way again.
After what feels like hours later, although it most likely wasn’t that long, I feel my eyes get heavy. I’m wiped in a way I haven’t felt. Whatever I was fighting earlier, it’s still making its way out of my system. The nausea has subsided at least and from what I can tell, no one in my sister’s house has caught it yet.
I look up at Grant, and he can see from my expression that I’ve exceeded my limit on being around so many people. My battery drains faster when I’m surrounded by an excessive number of people in a public place. I focus so much to get through a scenario that the moment I succeed, my body succumbs to the anxiety and stress and needs rest.
We make our way through the dance floor, finding Becca and Ellie still moving to the beat of this nineties music they grew up around in their teens. I say my goodbyes, Grant promising to get me home safely.
I know that Grant will spend the night. My sister knows he either stays at her house or crashes on the couch at his sister’s place. Tonight, I think he’ll be sharing a bed with me because I long for his comfort.
Grabbing my coat from the booth we were sitting at earlier, placing it on my back, and interlacing his fingers through mine, we make our way through the exit, and the cold of the evening hits me like a slap to the face.
We aren’t far from the house, so we use this time to walk through the neighborhood, enjoying some of those who have decorated their houses for the holidays already. I have always loved this time of year, and it’s taken me time to finally feel like I can embrace this season the way I once did years ago. Slowly, I’m picking up pieces of myself that were once a normal part of my personality before the shooting. That one day truly catapulted my life into a completely different direction, and I feel like I’m seeing myself rise from those ashes bit by bit.
My strides have been great but also slow as I maneuver life since the attack. I think that’s what has been the most surprising. The nightmares afterward were expected, but years later, I find myself frustrated that I can still wake up in a cold sweat. People talk so much about how an event like a mass shooting is devastating, protesting gun control and fighting for change, but soon the news outlets move on, a new tragedy hitting us from another direction. The survivors are left to deal with the aftermath, and the desertion is felt in a way I can’t explain.
What I experienced has become too common. Now, when another shooting occurs, it’s almost like we expect it in a way. The tragedy of that realization is devastating for me. I am here, struggling to put one foot in front of the other while the world carries on.
The post-traumatic stress I suffered then and continue to walk through life holding will never leave. I can learn to cope, but it’s now a chronic issue for me. Like a disease that I will never find a cure for. For everyone who watches the news and simply pleads with the universe to never let that happen to them, countless others and I are struggling to navigate for a lifetime ahead.
I might be living my life now, finding ways to strive, but people forget my efforts are still an uphill battle. I keep the little control I can within my world so I can feel comforted. On nights like tonight, I’m reminded I can push my limits, but the exhaustion I experience afterward takes over.
“Laney, you okay? You’re far away with your thoughts.” Grant moves my hair back off my shoulder.
I look over at him and smile. “Yeah, just thinking about things. Thanks for coming tonight. I was about to have a little panic attack with all the people entering the dance floor, but you helped me counteract that. Thank you.” I give him the biggest smile I can muster while I’m freezing my butt off.
I wore pants and a cute top, along with a huge puffy jacket, but it feels like I’m outside with a towel wrapped around me. The cold is going right through the fabric tonight.
“I’ll always be here for you, Laney,” he tells me, and I believe him.
“Yeah. But you’re not always going to physically be here, Grant. You work. You travel. That’s literally your job.” I’m not complaining, just stating the obvious. From the moment I left Wyoming, I noticed I could fall into a pattern of reliance with Grant if I wasn’t careful. I felt safe around him, and that moment he’d leave to work, I felt the anxiety creep in. I’ve made it a part of my recovery to find ways to live my life independently, so I didn’t pull him back to the point where he was stuck.
“I’d give it all up for you. Laney, you are my purpose. I’d do anything to ensure your safety.” He puts his arms around me and hugs me closer to him.
“I appreciate that. But let’s stick to what we know to be true. I can’t rely on you while you’re away. I have to find a way to navigate life on my own.” This conversation has gotten heavy for a simple evening stroll.
Grant stops, grabs me by the shoulders, and turns me so we are facing each other. I see him close his eyes, probably figuring out what he wants to say without letting his frustration show through.
I can read him like a book, and I know he’s upset about what I’m saying, but my truth is exactly that. This is our reality. As much as I want a full life with Grant, his life isn’t stationary. It’s full of movement. It’s full of adventure. I don’t see my life in that way. I like to stay put, I like order, and I like control where I can achieve it.
“Laney, please stop talking to me like I don’t know how my life is lived. I get it. I travel. I move around the world like a free spirit. I embrace change. I walk into situations where I have no idea how they will turn out. But never, not for one second, believe that you aren’t my home. You are my compass, and I’m constantly making sure the direction of my arrow points back to you. I’m sick of fighting this. I’m tired of walking away, wondering if you’ll let me in. I want in. I want you. I want forever. Please. Life is full of unknowns, but nothing about what I feel about you is questionable. It’s fact.”
I feel a single tear fall down my cheek. Our love for one another has never been questioned. It’s the ability to love. It’s his ability to know everything and still want my heart that I worry about.
How can he say all the right things, all the words that make my heart soar, yet I know the minute I say what I’ve held on to for so long, his words might be taken back? The unknown that lies between us keeps me from saying anything in return. It’s at the tip of my tongue to confess, but I simply nod. The lump in my throat is consuming me, and I can’t get words out.
This appeases him enough, and without another confession from either of us, we continue walking until we get home.
At some point in the night, I wake from my sleep, gasping. I had a night terror. I relived that dreadful day, but instead of Artie, I was holding Grant. I’m pulling as much air into my lungs as I can. I haven’t had a nightmare in a few months. They come and go, seeming to increase when I go out into a crowd, much like I did tonight.
I look to my side and see Grant’s side of the bed empty. I must have crashed right when we got back. I was wiped. I brushed my teeth, feeling my body deplete the longer I stayed awake. Grant was still getting ready for bed when I laid my head on my pillow and fell into a blissful sleep. Too bad I didn’t stay that way.
I get up to use the restroom, and when I come out, Grant is making his way through the room.
“Sorry, did I wake you when I got up?” He looks over at me, in his boxers and no shirt. Gosh, he’s gorgeous.
I shake my head. “No. Nightmare woke me.”
I see the sadness cross his features, and I know that as much as I hate the trauma that I live with, it guts him that this is my life.
We both make our way back to bed, and once lying back down, he stretches his arm out, my head resting in the crook of his armpit. My upper hand immediately moves to rest over his tattoo, and I run my fingers along his skin, loving how soft he feels under my touch.
He moves his fingers through my hair, each movement pulling me into a state of calm.
“I’m sorry you woke up in a panic. I hate that you experience that fear when your body should be in a state of rest.” He kisses the top of my head, and I can easily say I’ve never felt so loved by another human.
He lulls me to sleep with his movements in my hair, and soon, I fall into a state of slumber, and luckily, my dreams don’t take me back to darkness.