Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Shelly
I wasn’t lying when I told Abyss I needed to process my latest session with Beth.
We talked about moving on with someone else and how that might look, and I shared that Abyss had told me I was his old lady.
It was when she asked me how I felt about becoming physically intimate with him that I broke down.
My insecurities about how I look aren’t due to being a bit curvy, it’s because of all the scars.
Beth says I need to discuss it with Abyss, since it’s a possibility with any partner that things can change.
She made a lot of good points, and I know once I’ve thought through everything, I’ll be able to talk to him about my concerns.
I mean, logically I understand that age alone causes physical changes in a person; things that were once perky begin to sag, muscles lose tone if they’re not exercised, stuff like that.
But there’s nothing I can do to minimize my scars, and while they’ve faded significantly, they’ll always be there.
How can that be a turn on, especially to a man who exudes sexuality like it’s a cloak?
I know he’s not perfect because nobody truly is, but at the same time, I want to be physically attractive to him!
“Stop it, Shell, you’re not a vain person,” I mutter to myself as I stand there, naked, in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom.
“There’s more to life than a flat stomach, after all, and your scars show you survived.
You’re a survivor, Shelly, and if he can’t appreciate that fact, then he’s not the man you thought he was. ”
Still, seeing the ugliest one, the one that goes from right below my sternum down to my pubic bone, hurts.
I know it’s because things were happening quickly, it was emergent, and they were trying to save both Amberlea and me, but in the end, all I got was a gnarly scar.
The ones on my legs, where they had to surgically fix the breaks, aren’t as bad, but they’re still there, and because of the damage, I have a permanent limp which mostly shows up when I’m tired or have been on my feet for an extended period of time.
A lot of physical therapy helped me walk again, but I have so much metal in my body, I’ll always set off the metal detectors at the airport.
Shrugging, I head back into my ensuite and start the shower.
My plan is to wash my stinking thinking down the drain with an ‘everything’ shower.
Once the water is warm enough, I step inside, my hair already up in a clip since I washed it yesterday and start the process.
I always thought I was clean enough, then Marcella, who loved TikTok, somehow got on the side where various influencers talked about exfoliation products, lotions, body oils, and dusting powder, and suddenly, I realized that what I was doing wasn’t good enough.
I giggle when I remember Uncle Mack’s expression the day we came back from a trip to Ulta.
Both of us had overflowing bags of stuff, including various face masks, as well as a completely new skincare line.
It took some time to get used to all the steps, but my skin glows, and even though I detest the scars that map my body, the stuff that Marcella found helped minimize them over time.
They’ll always be there, of course, but they’re far lighter than they initially were, which was a definite concern of mine the first time I saw myself without all the bandages.
“I look like an alien,” I mutter as I check the small mirror I have mounted on the tile in the shower so I can properly place my face mask. Still, it opens my pores so when I’m done, I can use my toner then my moisturizer. If nothing else, I’ve got great skin so there’s that going for me.
Once I’m done exfoliating with my sugar scrub, I quickly shave then use my body wash to finish.
Patting myself dry, I grab my witch hazel wipes, hit all the important areas, then oil, lotion, and powder my body.
It took me some time and a ton of research, but I found scents that complement the perfume I like to wear, which I spritz on after brushing my teeth.
Satisfied that I’m as good as done, I wash off my face mask then finish that up, putting on a light makeup.
Not that I ever really goop it on; Marcella was a girl’s girl, and she taught me that less is more. A light foundation, some blush, a swipe of mascara, then my lip gloss. During the week, I wear eyeshadow, but Abyss said we’re going out to the ranch today, so I don’t want to overdo things.
“What to wear, what to wear,” I muse as I walk into my closet. “Jeans are obvious, since he’s going to teach me to ride a horse, but I don’t know if I should wear a long-sleeve shirt or not.”
I walk back into my bedroom in nothing but my bra and panties and grab my phone. Opening it up, I find my text thread with Abyss.
Me: Hey, what kind of shirt should I wear? Is it like the bike where I need to protect my skin or what?
Abyss: Gonna be hot today, Shell. Wear a T-shirt.
Me: That works. I’ll be ready in a bit.
Abyss: No worries. If you’re not, I’ll just talk to Mack while you finish.
Me: Okay. See you soon.
Something that Abyss has started doing when we see each other is he kisses me.
I’m not sure if it’s a biker thing or just him, but I love that he wants that contact right off the bat.
He’s also been touching me more; his hand on the small of my back when we’re walking, lacing our fingers together when we’re in his truck, lightly gripping my calf when we’ve stopped while on his bike.
I like it… no, being completely transparent, I love it.
He’s not possessive, exactly, but he makes it known, no matter where we’re at, that I’m his and he’s mine.
I know the waitresses at the places we eat try their darndest to get his attention, but outside of placing his order, his focus is on me.
As we walk out to the barn to saddle up a couple of horses, I start swinging our hands, causing him to chuckle. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing, sweetheart. I just love seeing you so carefree and having a good time,” he replies.
I stop in my tracks as it dawns on me, he’s right.
Ever since I said yes to that first ride, I’m finding that I’m smiling and laughing more.
Whether it’s due to him and his attention, or the fact that I’m finally processing everything I went through is irrelevant.
The fact of the matter is, I’m drawing again, I wake up with a purpose every single day, and I’m genuinely happy.
“I am,” I admit. “You make me happy, Abyss, but it’s more than that. I think… no, I know I was just gliding through life before we moved here. Now, I’m living again.”
He tugs me so I’m now facing him and cups my face with his hands.
“You mean everything to me, Shelly. Every fucking thing,” he says as he lowers his face to mine.
When his lips touch mine, I lose myself in his kiss, uncaring that the ranch hands could see us.
He finally pulls back then asks, “You ready to ride?”
Him? Absolutely. Do I say that? No, no I do not. Instead, I tell him, “Lead the way, cowboy, and show me how it’s done.”
Despite my hay allergy, I manage to have a good time.
Abyss came prepared and while I waited in the corral, he saddled two horses and led them out to me.
Once we went over the basics, he helped me into the saddle then we went riding on the ranch.
Seeing the area where they have the rodeos got me excited.
I’ve only ever been to one but had a good time.
However, I suspect with it being run by the Kings, it’s beyond awesome.
“You wanna keep going or head back?” Abyss asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Can we head back?” I question. “I don’t think I should overdo it my first time.”
“You’re probably right.”
We canter back to the stable, and I can’t help the laughter that bursts out seeing him astride the stallion he’s riding, a Stetson firmly on his head, and his leather cut on his back. He’s equally at home on a horse as he is on one of his bikes. Once we’re back, I ask, “What can I do to help?”
I may not know a lot about horses, but I know they have to be brushed down after they’ve been ridden. “Let me bring the stuff out here, I don’t want to take any chances that you’ll have a reaction to the hay,” he says.
“Is that okay to do?” I question.
“Why not?” he retorts. “The horses don’t care where they’re groomed, sweetheart.”
“Okay then,” I reply.
It doesn’t take him long to come back with the brushes, although he’s followed by two of the ranch hands who remove the saddles, leaving the horses with their bridles.
Then, he teaches me how to brush them down and I find myself giggling a lot because the horse I rode is a bit sassy and flirty.
She keeps nuzzling my neck then whinnying, as though she’s waiting for a treat.
“She’s a big flirt,” I say, glancing at Abyss.
The strength I can see in his arms as he works on the stallion has my mouth going dry while a part of me I thought was long dead starts throbbing with need. I must make a noise because he’s suddenly there, holding me and kissing me breathless.
“Fuck, Shelly, this isn’t the place, but I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you,” he growls in my ear.
“But where?” I mewl, my libido roaring and raring to go.
“Not gonna lie, if you wouldn’t blow up like a puffer fish, I’d take you up to the hayloft,” he murmurs.
His words have me giggling because that would be just my luck. “The joys of an allergy, huh?” I query.
“Not taking you to my room in the clubhouse for our first time, either,” he says.
“My house,” I state. “I know Uncle Mack lives there, but it’s not like our rooms are right next to each other, we’re on opposite sides of the house.”
“Don’t wanna disrespect him in his home, Shell,” he whispers. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”
I get what he’s saying, but it’s my house too. I don’t voice that, however, because something else comes to mind.
“I’m kind of scared,” I admit. “Can you promise there won’t be any lights on?”
“Can’t promise that, but I will say this, I don’t give a fuck if you’ve got scars. I’ve fallen for you and while I think you’re beautiful as fuck, it’s the inner you that I want.”
“But… I mean, they’re pretty ugly,” I confess, looking up at him.
“And?” he retorts. “Trust me when I say, we’ve all got scars. Some are just more visible than others.”
His words have my eyes going wide. It’s not something I’ve thought about before, but what he said makes perfect sense and it’s like everything that I’ve discussed with Beth, along with my talks with Marge, come full circle and I finally see it—I’m perfectly imperfect and the only opinion that matters as far as how I look is Abyss’s and mine. Everyone else can kick rocks.
“You’re right. So, are we gonna plan this or let it just happen?” I ask, now eager to get to the good stuff.