Chapter 5
Kira
“And what do we remind ourselves after every meeting?” asked Libby, the support group leader.
How many times had she heard it all before? The stories of excuses, misplaced forgiveness, and abuse. Libby had listened intently to each of our stories. She made sure we felt heard.
It had taken me two sessions at this Survivors of Domestic Violence support group to open up about my story.
After weeks of feeling guilty, ashamed, anxious, and happy, I was free, but sad I was alone — far too many emotions for a person to handle on her own — I plucked up the courage to attend a meeting.
I saw the fliers at the hospital while visiting Lily.
She had encouraged me to attend these meetings after we made a pact to heal together.
I joined in with the rest of the group as we responded to Libby’s question. “We are survivors.”
Some, myself included, were more enthusiastic with our responses, while others muttered or remained silent. They still needed to find that confidence again.
For most of the women in our group, showing up was enough.
With a lighter feel to my step after the meeting wrapped up for the day, I followed the others through the corridor to the front exit of an old Williamsburg dance studio, pulling on my new leather jacket as a cool breeze whipped through the exit doors.
I inhaled it with a growing sense of closure, freedom, and love for myself again.
These group sessions, held once a week for two hours, helped with all of that.
The group provided a safe environment to sit, talk, and grow.
A soft tune rang from within my patchwork tote bag, and I quickly pulled out my phone, already smiling at the incoming FaceTime notification on my screen.
I answered quickly. “Hi! Perfect timing. I just left my meeting.”
“How was it?” Alex, aka Mom One, asked. Her shoulder-length wavy red hair framed her kind face with feather bangs.
“It was good! I’m feeling more and more like myself again,” I said earnestly, and then tilted my head. “Where’s Laura?”
“She’s finishing with a client on a video call.” Alex took a seat on their couch as she propped the phone up on the coffee table. Her attention went to someone off-camera as her smile grew. “Kira’s on the phone.”
There was an excited “Oh!” before Alex scooted over and Laura, aka Mom Two, took a seat beside her.
Laura was the complete opposite of Alex.
While Alex was a calm, critical thinker and a high school teacher, Laura was the outgoing, energized, and enthusiastic other half who spent her time as a youth worker.
She had blonde hair as wild as my own, sun-kissed skin, and a constant smile in her brown eyes.
They only learned about what I went through with Aiden after I was in the hospital. My guilt over that hadn’t quite faded, but they had been nothing but supportive since.
“Hello, baby!” Laura beamed.
I waved to my phone, unable to contain my smile. “I was saying to Mom that these meetings are really working for me.”
“That is so good to hear!”
“I still think she should keep a balance. Maybe go to a rage room or something,” Alex suggested, raising a brow knowingly. “Just to really get him out of your system.”
“I would, but I’d look a little silly going on my own,” I laughed, stepping out the exit doors onto the stoop outside. That same breeze from before lifted my hair away from my face.
“Bring Lily,” Laura shrugged.
“I don’t think she’s quite ready to make those steps yet. She’s doing better, it’s just taking longer, considering she’s healing from something else.”
They nodded in understanding before Laura clicked her fingers. “What about that boy you’ve been hanging out with? He seems nice.”
“Seb?” I spoke his name as if I hadn’t been seeing him every week. Or like the mere mention of him had me feeling all warm inside.
“That explains the jacket,” Alex nodded, eyeing the leather jacket she could see on my shoulders before she looked up wistfully. “God, I miss my bike…”
“I’m sure he’d be interested in going to a rage room with you.” Laura smiled eagerly.
I laughed softly. “I’ll have to ask him.”
We talked while I waited outside the building, offside to the other women hanging back to chat amongst themselves.
There was a food truck a little way down the sidewalk.
For a moment, as my eyes skimmed the line outside the food truck, I caught sight of a young man whose light brown hair was pulled back into a bun.
I took a breath, knowing it wasn’t him. It would never be him.
Not when I knew his jaw was still wired shut, he couldn’t walk without crutches, and he no longer had a man bun.
This young man in the line had a different face anyway. And wasn’t wearing plaid.
And I was moving on.
I said goodbye to my moms when they told me a call from Grandpa was coming through — a call from him was a rare occurrence, considering he despised technology, so Laura was eager to answer it.
I slipped my phone into my bag, right beside where a vintage film camera sat.
Photography was very quickly becoming a new hobby of mine.
Much like any other hobbies I picked up, this one probably had an expiration date too, but that didn’t stop me from pursuing it.
Along with the group sessions, photography gave me something else to think about.
Every time I focused the lens on a subject, it was like drawing focus to the present instead of the past. A section of my bedroom wall at home was quickly filling with pictures of friends, family, and miscellaneous shots from around the city because of my new hobby.
I secured my unruly hair into a quick braid.
Right on time, the sound of an engine, a low sort of hum, pulled my attention to a sleek, matte black motorbike.
It stopped at the curb a few cars down on my right.
The rider, once he turned the bike off and kicked down the stand, saluted me, and I couldn’t fight the smile already spreading to my lips.
One of the women from the group, Fran, a firm but fair kind of lady, nudged my shoulder. “He seems eager every time he’s here. Are you sure he isn’t stalking you?”
I rolled my eyes, smiling still. “Seb is a good friend.”
The flutter in my stomach and the skipping beat of my heart seemed to think otherwise whenever I saw him.
I felt a natural pull towards Seb and his carefree, happy attitude.
He made me laugh until my sides hurt. Being friends with him was different from what I had with Lily.
She was like a sister; we shared so many things and bonded because of it.
Seb, however, was the friend who made things simple.
I knew I could rely on him to be there when all I needed was a laugh or someone to share an inbox full of memes with.
Fran tutted. “Can’t be too cautious.”
Fran’s husband had abused and stalked her after their divorce.
I couldn’t blame her for assuming any man eager to spend time with a woman might be suspicious, but Seb was far from being that kind of guy.
He didn’t have a mean bone in his body. If I had X-ray vision or maybe a third eye, I wouldn’t be surprised to find his entire being was made of light and happiness.
I walked over to Seb and his bike as he pulled out the spare helmet we had bought together.
Which was around the time I had bought the leather jacket.
It felt only right to match his riding vibe.
Of course, I added my own little touches.
Like the tiny sunflower stickers that trailed down the jawline of my helmet.
Seb lifted his visor, revealing his kind brown eyes, and held my helmet out to me. “Hey, Smiles.”
His voice was smooth, leaving me buzzed.
“Hi,” I grinned, accepting the helmet and pulling it on. The padding inside muffled the busy sounds of the city and warmed my cheeks.
“You seem happier every time you come out. Or is that because I’m here?” There was a subtle smugness in his eyes, paired with a playful glow.
“It helps to have a friendly face to see afterwards.” I climbed on behind him. The closeness to him sent a rush of butterflies through my stomach. Even more so when I wrapped my arms around his middle and leaned into his muscular body.
Seb chuckled, started the engine again, peeled the bike away from the curb, and quickly picked up speed. The bike jolted forward as he shifted gears, and I squealed ecstatically, holding on a little tighter.
We arrived at the apartment, and I invited him inside for lunch — a pretty standard thing for us after my meetings since his apartment was only ten minutes from the old dance hall. It just made sense for him to give me a ride home, according to him.
Like most Thursdays, he talked about his recent job tiling a roof, and I would get ready for my afternoon shift at Green Thumbs Florist and Garden Center.
But today was different.
We walked into the foyer, his bike boots heavy against the linoleum floor.
I was peeling off my jacket as we neared the elevator when he slowed to check the message that came through on his phone.
I paused next to him, jacket halfway down my shoulders. His scent, cedarwood, spearmint, and lemon, lingered in the leather of his clothes and now faintly on me after sitting against him for so long. At 5’5”, and Seb six feet tall, my face came level with his shoulder—
Why am I comparing heights right now?
“Damn,” Seb muttered as he read the text.
“What is it?”
“New roof maintenance job. One of the guys pulled out, and the boss wants me to take it this afternoon.” He tilted his phone so I could read the text too.
“I believe you, Seb,” I half smiled.
“I know, but I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t skipping out on you.” There was a happy sparkle in his eyes again.
I pointed to his screen when another message popped up. This one was from an unknown number. “Is that another job?”
Seb’s dark eyebrows knitted together as he opened the text in front of me. “Looks like Antonio wants a reunion.”
An unknown number, a time for later tonight, and an address. How mysterious of the mob boss.
Also, a little terrifying.
A heaviness settled in the pit of my stomach, numbing the fluttery feeling.
I knew what Seb and Dean did for Antonio was dangerous — the fights and the jobs — but somehow, it hadn’t really sunk in until now.
So much time had passed since their last fight, I had forgotten about that part of Seb’s life. And I was worried.
Seb shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the cryptic message, as he pocketed his phone and gave me a lopsided smile. “Sorry, I have to miss lunch.”
“No, it's fine. Be safe.” I rose to my toes and pecked him on the cheek. And then pulled back quickly, eyes wide as I struggled to find the reason why I kissed his cheek.
Say something cute, chill, easy-going. Anything!
My intention wasn’t to test the waters. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction. I guess to make sure he knew I cared for him. As a friend.
Seb’s smile only grew wider as he raised his eyebrows. “First base already? You don’t mess around, Kira.”
I pressed my lips together, despite them wanting to curve upward at the way he made me feel.
Safe. Secure. Unjudged.
I backed away towards the elevator with a slight skip in my step, keeping my smile coy. “You should get going. Don’t want to upset the roof tile boss by being late.”
He huffed a laugh. “Okay, but maybe we could go for coffee tomorrow?”
The coyness of my smile quickly spread through my body as I tilted my head. “Why?”
“It’d be nice to meet with you somewhere other than outside your SDV meetings.”
“Isn’t that what our regular lunches are for? To catch up somewhere else besides outside the SDV meetings? And you’ve seen me outside of those meetings when you visit Dean here.”
“Not on your own.” He rolled his eyes, his lips twitching as he started backing towards the front doors. “Can we meet for coffee tomorrow, please?”
My facade broke, and I grinned. “Make it bubble tea, and I’m in.”
His brow raised. “Bubble tea?”
“It’ll blow your mind.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled, stepping through the doors.
I felt like I could burst. Overcome by a new thrill as butterflies danced in my stomach.
My smile remained long after Seb left.