Chapter 36
“My name is Audrey Winthrop, and I’m on week eight of this program. My last week,” I say, a grin stretching across my face. I sit in a rickety plastic chair surrounded by seven other women. Their eyes beam at me but still hold a brokenness that we all share. It never truly goes away. It’s a fight to keep the glimmer. But we’re in this fight together—I’m not alone.
The last few months have been a ride. It almost didn’t seem real. My shoulders would jolt when I’d hear a door shut too hard. I’d lose sleep some nights, pressing my cheek into Donovan’s chest to make sure he was still breathing. I saw Kellan in my nightmares; sometimes his hands were around my neck. Other times, I glimpsed the deep terror in his dark gaze in the seconds before he shot Donovan.
Eight weeks ago, I started coming to this support group for domestic violence and trauma at the Oakwood Valley Community Health Center. After the shooting, I knew I needed help to sort through everything I had endured.
Donovan drives me to support group every week, encouraging me to continue my journey of healing. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A journey. There’s not just one destination. Trauma isn’t linear. It’s gray and ugly, push and pull. One minute you’re okay, and the next…well, you’re not.
But today, I sit tall in my rickety plastic chair, roll my shoulders back, and open the journal in front of me. Heather, our moderator, gives me a soft smile and a wink, allowing me to take the floor. For my last session, we were to write a letter to ourselves. An exercise of self-acceptance, to never settle for the path of least resistance.
I’d crumpled at least a hundred pages before I was satisfied with what I wrote. The thing is, this letter can change tomorrow and the next day. So, I wrote the letter on our front porch this morning before I left. I look at the women in the circle around me and slowly close my eyes. This is for them. This is for me.
Take a deep breath, count backward from five.
Dear Audrey,
Look at you. Do you see yourself? Did you ever think this is where you’d end up? Do you feel the sun kissing your skin? Can you smell the clean air around you, free from smog and cognac? I know back then you felt your life was void of hope. Void of love. Void of happiness. The walls were closing in so fast you couldn’t catch your breath. But I’m here to tell you something. I think you’ve always known deep down this is exactly where you’re meant to be. Surrounded by so much love, you don’t know what to do with it. You know what you do? You give it back. Take the chances. Take the risks. Don’t be afraid to fall, because this time you’ll know how to recover. Because you’re strong. You’re not alone anymore. Everything that has happened to you led you here. You never stopped fighting. You may not have seen it then, but I see it. You never gave up. This journey is not over. Far from it. But I want you to know…I’m so proud of you. Proud of us. You are a survivor. You opened your heart and you let your dreams fly. You’re soaring through the air, your wings in full flight, no longer clipped. How does it feel? Does it feel like a dream? Well, guess what? It’s not a dream. It’s real. You are free. Thank you for never giving up. Thank you for fighting every day. So, Audrey. Look at you. Look at us. I love you.
Audrey
“Donovan? Have you seen my cowgirl boots?” I shout from the bedroom. Donovan stands at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes from the amazing dinner he cooked for me: bolognese with meat sauce. After picking me up from support group, he ushered me into the kitchen, hands over my eyes then lifting to reveal a whole setup for us to make fresh pasta together. My favorite flowers sat pretty in a vase on the counter next to a bottle of Gran’s wine. Knowing Donovan, he will never give up his surprises, no matter how much I protest.
I hear the water turn off and he shouts back, “What?”
“My boots! Have you seen my cowgirl boots? I want to wear them tonight!” I shuffle through my shoes in the bedroom, getting on all fours to check under the bed. Nothing.
“Check the closet, baby!” he shouts back, turning the water back on to resume the dishes. Right, the closet. Since moving in with Donovan officially, my stuff was still all over the place. New clothes, new shoes, new everything. I’d donated most, if not all, the clothes that came back with me from New York. I wanted a fresh start.
Tia extended her stay after the shooting. Since her parents moved back, she put her life in Austin on hold to spend more time with me this summer. She took me shopping, helping me with an entire new wardrobe. It’s been fun to discover what I like and don’t like, adding color back into my life. I don’t deserve her, but I’ll allow myself to believe that I do. If I learned anything in support group, it’s that every day is an opportunity to shift your perspective. Days where you don’t feel worthy? Change out the lens. So, I deserve Tia’s unwavering friendship, simply because I do.
I stride purposefully into the closet and flip on the light. Donovan’s scent lingers on his clothes as I walk through and graze them with my fingers. No tailored suits, no glitzy jewelry or watches. It’s faded Levi’s, soft cotton t-shirts that hug Donovan’s body like a second skin, and the sweaters I slip on at night for reading on the front porch.
And then there’s my empty section, brimming with the possibility of everything I might hang there. No more frilly blouses and pencil skirts. I want the rainbow. It may just be clothing, but it’s so much more. I’m free to express myself with no repercussions. If I want to wear clashing colors and mixed-matched patterns, I will. My clothing will no longer be a uniform to hide myself or please another man’s desires. It’s for me. And Donovan loves whatever I put on because, well, it’s simple: he loves me.
I bend down to see some shoes of mine that have gone rogue, somehow finding their way to the back of the closet. “Ah! There you are,” I say, grunting as I get on my hands and knees to reach for my boots. I grip the toe of one and drag it toward me, a shoebox coming along with it. It’s a simple black shoebox and curiosity gets the best of me when I slip off the lid.
I gasp as I lift a picture from the box. It’s a picture of Donovan and me from graduation night. My head is pressed against his chest, a subtle smile curved on my lips. I remember this moment. My eyes are closed in the picture. I had my ear right over his heart, swaying to the thud of his heartbeat, as if I knew then just how precious it was. He’s kissing my hair, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. God, we were so young. So in love, we didn’t even know it.
I glimpse a second picture in the box, but it’s face down. I pick it up to read the smudged ink on the back.
The day I fell in love with Audrey Winthrop
May 31st, 2014
My breath hitches when I turn the picture over, seeing that beautiful dimpled grin I’ve always loved. I’m laughing into his chest, my cheeks tinted pink. He’s leaning his cheek on top of my head, beaming so bright toward the camera. He’s always been beautiful. The youth on our faces, the hope of a summer spent every day together, it’s all in the picture. I trace his face with my finger as the tears well up in my eyes.
“Mouse, did you find your boots?”
I turn my head around to face Donovan, leaning on the door frame. He’s wearing a fitted heather gray t-shirt with sleeves that grip deliciously around his biceps. His faded jeans hug his toned thighs, strong and masculine. He’s breathtaking.
“Yeah, I got ‘em,” I croak, lifting my boot in the air. His face immediately grows in concern when he sees me tearing up, and he rushes to my side, bending down beside me.
He sees me holding the picture and chuckles under his breath. “I see you found the pictures,” he murmurs, kissing my temple as he drapes his arm around me. I turn to see his face, his eyes locked on the picture. “Look at us, Mouse,” he whispers as I lean my forehead to his temple.
“I am.”
Those two in the picture? It’s still us. Audrey and Donovan. We’re still just two crazy kids in love. I pull back to his face and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me about these? We can frame them.”
“To be honest, I forgot about them,” he blurts, and I playfully hit him on the arm. He chuckles and shakes his head. “You see, these pictures were all I had of you for ten years. You see how the corners are bent and how worn they are? That’s because I held onto these pictures and looked at them every night we were apart.”
“Every night?”
“Mhmm. Every night. I stopped looking at them the day you came home with me. You know why?” he murmurs, gently lifting my chin. I have an idea, but I shake my head and stifle a grin, selfishly wanting to hear his answer.
“Because you’re no longer a dream. You’re as real as it gets, Mouse.”
He tugs my chin toward him and seals his lips over mine. “You’re no longer a dream.” I imagine Donovan clutching the photos to his chest before drifting off to sleep. All I had during the years apart was my imagination, painting Donovan behind my eyelids as I lay in bed at night. But we’re as real as it gets, and right now, his taste makes me dizzy as he tenderly kisses me, dotting a feather-like kiss into the corner of my mouth.
“Get your boots on. We gotta go,” he whispers. I nod and tuck the pictures neatly back in their box, closing the lid and sliding it under the clothes that hang above. He helps me to my feet and takes my hand.
“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” He turns his head, smirking playfully. I roll my eyes because I know the answer. “It’s a surprise,” I grumble.
“You’re finally catching on, Mouse,” he says, waggling his brows.
Outside, the sun has already set, lending a crisp chill to the night air. Dusk blankets the sky, granting us just enough light to see across the valley from where we stand on the porch, grapevines in full bloom.
“Wait here,” he says, hustling down the steps to round the side of the cabin. Moments later, I hear a sputter and a roar as Donovan swings the ATV around the front.
My eyes light in delight as I scurry down the steps, Donovan greeting me with his signature grin. “Ready to go for a ride?” I nod eagerly as he flicks his chin behind him, beckoning me to hop on. I swing my leg over, scooting all the way up on the seat, firmly pressing my chest into his back. I crane my neck over to his profile and plant a deep kiss on his lips. I trail kisses along his shoulder and back, wrapping my arms around his waist.
The quad takes off on the path as we head into the horizon. He takes an easy pace, slow enough to look out and enjoy the beauty that is this vineyard. The story of us is within these vines, deeply rooted and going through seasonal changes. Once bare and empty. Then growing and sprouting new leaves, needing to be tended to and nurtured. Some vines make it, some don’t. But when they do, they bear beautiful tendrils and fruit, ready to be made into something greater. That’s us. Donovan and Audrey.
Donovan reaches down and strokes his fingers against the back of my calf, sending shivers throughout my body. My hands creep under his shirt, splaying my palms across his chest. I trace over the raised skin that houses his scar, pressing a kiss into his back.
“This scar will forever be a reminder that no matter what, I’ll always protect you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, letting Donovan’s words echo in my mind. At first, it was hard to look at the scar. A constant reminder of the worst night of my life. Until Donovan came out of this alive and gave me a new lens.
This scar is a symbol of his love for me. The great lengths he will go to protect me. Heaven and back. It represents the pain I endured, a testament to the fierce battle I overcame to be with him. We were once growing on two separate vines, but now we’re intertwined, crafting a story that’s both stronger and more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. That’s what we are: forever intertwined, a perfect blend of our individual strengths and shared love. Soulmates.
He moves his hand from my calf and snakes his hand up his shirt to clasp my fingers around his. The gesture is simple, but it’s like he hears my thoughts and reassures me with his touch.
I see a familiar white structure in the distance. My heart floods with warmth the closer we approach it. The ATV slows, coming to a full stop on the path. Donovan swings his leg over and reaches his hand out to me. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”
“Okay,” I whisper, letting him guide me through the vines. I had almost forgotten the simple beauty of this gazebo. The moon makes an appearance, just as it did all those years ago. Its light cascades over the dome, like it was plucked from heaven above and placed on earth, just for us. I haven’t seen the gazebo since graduation night. Not like this, at least. We’ve passed it on our quad rides here and there, but it sat in the distance, waiting for us.
Right as I’m about to take the first step on the stair, I halt. “What is it?” Donovan asks, his face glowing from the moonbeams. I look at him and smile, reaching down to take off my boots. I toss them to the side, letting my bare feet sink into the springy ground beneath me, needing to sense this place like I did on that first night. He grins and does the same.
He motions me to go first, and as soon as I take that first step, we’re eighteen again. It’s like my footprints are imprinted on the wooden planks below, remembering me and welcoming me back. I’m wearing the ivory dress Donovan bought me, the hem rippling softly in the breeze. I trace my fingers along the rails like I did once before, the ridges and divots in the wood molding beneath my fingers as if I’m the one who put them there.
Donovan’s quiet gait steps close behind me as I feel the warmth of his body tantalizing me. I search along the railing for the inscription, smiling when it comes alive under my fingertips.
Meet Me in the Vines
Donovan’s chest presses against my back as he wraps his arms around my middle, resting his chin in the crook of my shoulder. His lips barely graze my ear as his light breath skates along my skin. “You know, that night when we kissed right here in this very spot? I knew right then and there that I’d found her,” he murmurs, squeezing me tighter.
“Found who?” I whisper, twisting around to face him. Those ocean blue eyes wait for me like they always do. Like they always have. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, gently outlining my jaw with the pads of his fingers.
“My wife.”
He leans in and kisses me, swallowing the hitch in my breath as he devours my mouth. His tongue glides over my bottom lip, and I eagerly let him in. I rake my fingers through his hair like I’ve done a thousand times, letting them swim through his thick chocolate locks. Our kiss deepens, laced with hunger and need. A moan escapes me as his tongue works its magic, dizzying me into his enchanting kiss.
When we pull apart, our lips are swollen and wet. My fingers link behind his nape, our breathing tattered with wanting. A playful smirk tugs on his lips as he stares deep into my gaze. “Want to play a game?” he breathes, his eyes glint with challenge.
I quirk a brow and chuckle under my breath. “What game?”
“Cat and mouse,” he whispers, untangling his arms from my middle while slowly walking backward. A small whimper slips from my lips at the loss of his touch. I flash him a grin as I push myself off the railing, taking a step in his direction.
“Yeah, we can play. I want revenge for last time,” I tease, crossing my arms. I see the memory of Donovan crashing into my back and lifting me off the ground in capture, our laughter filling the atmosphere like our favorite song. Even though I had let him win that night.
“But this time, you’re cat and I’m mouse,” he says with a hearty chuckle. I raise my eyebrow in intrigue, satisfied with the change up. “Deal. And what do I get if I win?” I croon, taking another step toward him. He closes in on the distance and cups his hands around my face.
“Win and you’ll find out.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth and I groan, leaving me hot and bothered. I’ve been needy for him since that kiss in the closet. Every touch he leaves on my body is enough to set me off. But I’ll play the game and pray my prize leads to more than just kissing.
Donovan strides to the edge of the gazebo as I stand in the center. “Okay, Mouse. Close your eyes and count from ten. No peeking,” he teases, flashing his dimpled grin that’s just for me. I giggle as I lift my hands over my face, my heart racing from the excitement.
“Ten…nine…”
I smile underneath my hands, imagining Donovan weaving through the vines. Would he let me win like I did that night?
“Eight…seven…”
His steps are so quiet I don’t think I hear him. No rustling or frantic thuds against the dirt. He’s gonna make this hard for me, huh?
“Six…five…”
His taste lingers on my lips as I lick them, like honey and wine—a sweetness that has me close to calling it quits and begging him to take me home to bed.
“Four…three…”
This is us. This is who we are. We laugh, run, and play. Donovan brings out the best in me, and I’m a better woman because of it.
“Two…one…”
I drop my hands and open my eyes, scanning the vines for signs of him. But I don’t have to search far. My breath hitches as my gaze falls down to Donovan on one knee in front of me, displaying a gorgeous oval-cut diamond.
“Oh my god, Donovan…” I whisper as tears prick the corners of my eyes. The moonbeams cast a spotlight on him, the diamond glinting under its reflection. Instinctively, I kneel in front of him, clasping my hands around his wrists.
“Audrey Wren Winthrop, it was in this very spot ten years ago where you came soaring into my life, marking me forever.” I let out a quiet sob, gripping onto his wrists like if I let go, I’ll sink beneath the planks. “I knew then that I would marry you one day. It took us a while to come back to each other, but deep down, I knew it would happen. We never gave up,” he murmurs, smiling so big that it outshines the moon.
“Will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?”
“God, yes, yes, yes!” I cry out, throwing my arms around his neck and crashing my lips onto his. The flutter storm swirling inside is enough to lift me off the ground, sending me into the stars. I pull back as I laugh and cry at the same time.
“Give me your hand, baby,” he whispers, our fingers trembling together. He slips the diamond on my ring finger, kissing it delicately. He pulls me in for an embrace as we kneel on the floor, his heart thudding rapidly against my chest. I look down and place my left hand on his heart, gazing into his ocean blues.
“Are you okay?” I ask, worried that the rapid thuds are too much for him. He nods his head, resting his hand over mine.
“I’m okay, Mouse. Never better.”
“I love you,” I breathe.
“I love you, too.”
I lay him back gently and settle beside him, splaying my leg over his waist. He lifts my left hand over us, displaying the promise of forever. “It’s perfect,” I whisper, bringing my hand down to turn his face toward me. I kiss him deep, needing him more with each swipe of his tongue on mine.
He flips on top of me, our lips never parting. I buck my hips into him, urging him to press himself on top of me.
“Tell me what you want, Mrs. King,” he rasps, nipping my bottom lip, trailing kisses along my jaw. I hum and wrap my arms around his muscled back, savoring his weight and warmth on top of me. Something about him calling me Mrs. King lights a fire in my core, the heat building through my sex.
“I want you. All of you,” I whisper.
Donovan savors me, peeling off my clothes like I’m a long-awaited gift on Christmas morning. He drinks me in, exploring every curve and valley like it’s the very first time. His touch is addicting, like the purest drug ever made, just for me. And when he finally takes every inch of my body and soul, rocking me onto the edge of the world, he also gives so much more.
He gives me everything. A safe space in his arms. A loyal confidant to lean on. A future to build a family. And when we come apart falling off the earth together, nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and boneless, it’s always my name on his lips.
Our night goes on with a chase through the vineyard, our laughter drifting in the wind. It’s our game of give and take.
But this time, we both win.