A present and a deal for the son pt 13
- 2 years ago
- 13
- 0
Meant To Be Ch. 09 free porn video
The week simultaneously sped by and dragged on. I stayed at Nick’s, Drew was staying at our apartment, which was a convenient excuse, but really it was that I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. I never asked and thankfully Nick didn’t seem to expect me to go. My emotions ranged from numbness to crippling fear to panic. I almost preferred the dullness since any other emotion drove me to tears.
We returned to work after a few days. Nick shaved his beard before his first day back while I sat on the bathroom vanity watching. I unexpectedly burst into tears when he was halfway through the process, causing him to hug me in alarm. The ridiculousness of my reaction struck me and I began laughing through my tears, almost hyperventilating as I tried to catch my breath. The moment represented the dramatic shifts taking place inside me perfectly.
Gwen was released from the hospital and spent a few days recuperating at her parents’ house before returning to our apartment. The one silver lining of this nightmare was the relationship between her and Drew. She told me he’d confessed that he hadn’t been able to decide what he wanted, which made him believe he wasn’t ready for anything other than friendship. But once he’d seen she was trapped in his apartment as it burned, once he was faced with the prospect of losing her, the decision had been made. I teased them about living together so soon into their relationship although I knew they were taking things slowly as Gwen recovered. I was happy for them, but my joy and teasing felt hollow and forced to me.
Nick and I coexisted in almost perpetual silence, moving around each other quietly and communicating through random touches and caresses. I guessed he was giving me space to heal. I saw the stress and worry etched on his handsome face, the way his shoulders hunched forward slightly as if he was carrying a heavy burden. I assured myself that once I recovered, his concern for me would disappear.
My parents flew out that week despite my telling them it wasn’t necessary. Abigail and Louise called almost daily to check on me, and Louise gently chided me, explaining that for parents, it was necessary to see their children after something like this. My heart ached for her, acknowledging how difficult it must be for her to be so far away from Nick during all this.
Gwen’s parents invited my mom and dad to Newark during their visit but my dad declined, asking Mom if she’d mind going alone so he and I could spend the day together. I was still so numb I could barely manage the energy to be surprised, but I tried to respond with enthusiasm. Fake it till you make it, right?
Dad and I had lunch and wandered around the West Village. I pointed out various landmarks in a flat voice – places we regularly shopped or ate, even the gym Gwen and I belonged to – trying to give him a sense of my life in New York. He paused outside the gym and asked if we could go in. My surprise was genuine at this request, but I followed him inside. I introduced him to the staff working the front desk, not paying attention to their small talk until I heard my father ask about personal trainers. My head shot up to look at him quizzically.
‘Do any of them do self-defense classes?’ he asked.
My face flushed, though I wasn’t sure if with embarrassment or anger.
‘None of our trainers, but we do offer the occasional class. They’re not taught by anyone on staff, it’s usually ex-policemen or military personnel,’ was the reply.
My dad nodded his thanks and moved further down the counter under the guise of looking at their brochures. His hand held my elbow and he nudged me along with him.
‘Cassie, would you be interested in some self-defense classes? I’ll pay for them,’ he said quietly, studying a brochure.
‘Why?’ I said, unable to stop the hurt in my voice. ‘Do you think I could have prevented what happened?’
He dropped the brochure and grasped my shoulders. I looked up to see his shocked expression. He walked us to the chairs in the waiting area and sat me down.
‘Not at all,’ he said decisively. ‘That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry, princess.’
I nodded, hearing the sincerity in his voice.
‘I just think it might be good for you, to take some control back. I think it would help you recover. Emotionally,’ he added.
‘Maybe,’ I agreed half-heartedly.
At dinner my father floated the idea to the table and my mom and Nick readily agreed. Dad had gotten the names of some of the instructors while we were at the gym and he called them right after the meal.
‘One of them does private sessions,’ he told me. ‘Would you prefer that?’
I shrugged, not knowing how I felt about any of it.
‘You could have them come here,’ Nick offered. ‘Rather than the gym. It might be more comfortable for you.’
I glanced around the room, absorbing the various concerned looks directed at me. Suddenly I was irritated by the delicacy with which I was being handled, the eggshells everyone seemed to be walking on around me. I knew it wasn’t fair to be annoyed and bit my tongue, not wanting to lash out at them.
‘Is it – is it a man?’ I asked quietly, staring at my lap.
Everything in the room stilled. In my peripheral vision, I saw my mother’s hands clasp together tightly in her lap.
‘Uh – yes,’ my father replied.
I bit my lip. ‘Can you…can we arrange it so Nick will be here?’ I whispered.
I sensed their heads turning to face each other, but they didn’t speak.
‘Of course, pet,’ Nick said softly.
I nodded. ‘Thanks.’
—
My instructor, Scott, was a tall, imposing former Navy Seal who never smiled. To say I found him intimidating would be an understatement. He wasn’t disagreeable or harsh, just deliberate and professional. He was calm when he demonstrated each defense move, almost unemotional when describing the potentially scary scenario that would require it. He took his instruction seriously and I did my best to respond accordingly. Sometimes, especially at first, the memories of that night overpowered everything else.
I wasn’t sure how much my father had told Scott about what happened, but he didn’t seem fazed the first time I broke down in tears. He’d just demonstrated how I should escape from his hold, and as soon as he stood behind me I felt myself wavering, losing my already tenuous control over my emotions. By the time he placed his hands on me, I was shaking and gulping for air. He released me in an instant and silently handed me a bottle of water.
‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled, wiping the tears away.
I perched on the couch and glanced up at him. He was standing stock still with his hands clasped behind his back, looking straight ahead. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
‘Not a problem,’ he said briskly.
His detachment was a relief compared to the way everyone else had been treating me – overly concerned and with kid gloves. I sighed and stood up.
‘Okay. Let’s try it again,’ I said.
We met three times a week and I soon began looking forward to our sessions. I became more comfortable being alone with him, which relieved the strain on Nick’s work schedule, though he did his best to be home for them when he could manage it. I still broke down on occasion, and the times it happened were all the more frustrating because there never seemed to be any warning. I was embarrassed by it, feeling it made me seem weak. One day I was so irritated with my tears that I tore my hand wraps off and flung them across the room.
‘Fucking hell!’ I shouted, sitting on the armrest of the couch. I kicked at the couch with the heel of my shoe several times for good measure.
‘Feel better?’ Scott asked after a long pause.
His voice was so calm that I chuckled, though without much humor. He was once again standing still as if he’d been given an ‘at ease’ command.
‘Are you…required to stand like that
?’ I asked timidly. ‘I mean, can you sit?’
A flicker of amusement crossed his face and he relaxed his frame, dropping his hands to his sides but otherwise not moving.
‘Force of habit,’ he explained.
I nodded. ‘I’m sorry I keep crying,’ I said quietly.
‘It’s understandable,’ he said.
I snorted. ‘Is it? Because I feel like I’m losing my mind.’
‘I’d say you’re doing pretty well, considering,’ he told me, surprising me by sitting on the floor.
‘My dad told you,’ I remarked in a hollow voice.
‘Yes.’
I nodded again, staring at the floor.
‘Ms. Drake, the goal here is to make your responses to any attack rote. So you can defend yourself without thinking. Like how you go through the motions of driving or brushing your teeth without having to think about each step – soon it will become second nature. It takes time and practice, and focus. If you like we can work on breathing exercises beforehand to clear your mind and that may prevent the emotional response.’
I stared at him. It was the most he’d said to me at one time other than our first meeting where he explained his process.
‘That might help,’ I said. ‘And you can call me Cassie.’
He looked so startled that I snickered.
‘Or, Ms. Drake is fine, if you’re going to freak out about it,’ I joked.
He made a sound that I supposed was his version of a laugh, and I grinned. I turned to the door as I heard Nick come in. Scott stood immediately, his hands automatically linking behind his back.
‘Hi,’ I said softly, walking to the door.
‘Hello, love,’ Nick said warmly, kissing my cheek. ‘Scott,’ he added with a nod. ‘Did I interrupt?’
I shrugged. ‘We were taking a tear-induced break, I guess.’
Nick brushed a thumb across my cheek, looking at me with concern. I smiled reassuringly. Scott began gathering his things.
‘Let’s cut this session short,’ he said. ‘We can make up the time on Tuesday.’
The breathing exercises worked. I still had moments where I’d feel myself wavering on the brink of tears, but by now Scott seemed able to read my body language. He would calmly remind me to breathe and focus. He didn’t push me, but I also knew he wouldn’t let me make any excuses. I was still rather intimidated by him and for some reason didn’t want to disappoint him. A few weeks later, he complimented my progress as he was leaving and I thanked him somewhat doubtfully.
‘Do you really believe that any of this would help me – I mean, if I was up against someone your size. Or even half your size,’ I added with a laugh. ‘Would it really work?’
‘I do,’ he said decisively. ‘But a good thing to remember is that attackers don’t usually expect someone to fight back. In the majority of cases, even the attempt of defending yourself will either throw them off guard so that you can escape, or cause them to reevaluate whether or not they want to bother continuing.’
‘Hm,’ I said, thinking about his reply. ‘What happened to me, though – it was…personal. I don’t know if he would have been discouraged by me fighting back.’
‘But you don’t have to worry about him anymore,’ Scott said firmly.
I studied him, wondering if he and my father had kept up their communication. Jason was still incarcerated and we’d been informed that he plead guilty. We expected him to remain locked up for quite some time, though he hadn’t been sentenced yet. His attorney was attempting an insanity defense and the process was dragged out while Jason underwent a mental health evaluation.
‘Do you think -‘ I hesitated uncertainly. ‘Can we go through what he did, step by step? If I describe what happened, can you maybe show me how I could have gotten away at some point?’
Scott watched me carefully for a minute.
‘Why?’ he finally asked.
‘I think it might help me not beat myself up over it anymore. Maybe make me stop reliving it, or at least if I’m going to relive it, I can change the outcome in my head or something…I don’t know,’ I said in frustration. ‘That’s probably stupid.’
‘You did everything right, Cassie,’ Scott told me.
I was taken aback, partly that he’d used my first name, but mostly at his declaration. He nodded.
‘You called 911 and immediately let them know that you were being held against your will. You kept your wits about you enough to take note of your surroundings so you could give them clues about where you were. You did everything right,’ he repeated.
I swayed slightly, feeling light-headed. I reached behind me to grab the back of a dining room chair. Relief unexpectedly washed over me. I knew Scott would never have said it if it weren’t true. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear those words until now.
Scott agreed to recreate the night of Jason’s attack. It wasn’t easy emotionally, but eventually I reacted more on instinct than fear and began to feel empowered. My father was more intuitive than I had ever given him credit for, and I called him the first chance I could to thank him for this gift.
The darkness lifted slowly, but it did lift. I found myself going through my day with confidence as opposed to dread. Scott and I cut back our sessions but I refused to give them up entirely yet, unwilling to lose the lifeline I felt it provided. I knew I was healing, I felt better and people were commenting on it. I became more comfortable being alone in public, giving Nick and my friends a reprieve from chaperoning me to and from work. I returned to my apartment once Drew found a new place to live, though I still spent most of my time at Nick’s.
So focused on the progression of my recovery, it took me a while to notice that Nick was still withdrawn and pensive. He remained supportive, of course. Tender and loving – though we hadn’t been intimate in weeks – buoying my spirits and taking care of me. As my fog dissipated, I expected his mood to improve, and selfishly didn’t spend too much time pondering it. One night he was in the kitchen cleaning up our dinner dishes and I walked in to get something to drink. He had left me tucked in on the couch studying and hadn’t heard me enter. The water was running in the sink, but he wasn’t washing the dishes. His hands gripped the edge of the counter and his head was bowed. The lines of his shoulders and arms reflected tension and fatigue.
My stomach tilted and I felt a brief moment of dizziness. This happened to him, too, I realized. I was ashamed by my lack of empathy. He jumped slightly when I stepped behind him and circled my arms around his waist. He covered my hands with one of his own.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked gently.
‘I’m fine, love,’ he said crisply, clearing his throat.
‘Nick,’ I said, nudging his waist. ‘Look at me.’
He turned to face me and I saw a mask slip over the pain in his eyes, leaving an almost blank expression.
‘I’ve been neglecting you,’ I whispered.
He looked at me in shock. ‘What? No, you haven’t,’ he protested.
‘I have. And I’m sorry,’ I told him. ‘I’m so sorry. You’ve been so wonderful, taking care of me through all this. I’ve been too selfish to notice that you’re going through this, too.’
‘Cassandra,’ he said with a resigned sigh. ‘You are not selfish. You’re healing. Christ – what happened to you -‘
‘It happened to us,’ I interrupted. ‘And you’re still hurting. What can I do?’
‘Nothing, pet. I’m fine,’ he said weakly.
I studied him for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say.
‘Nick,’ I said slowly. ‘We’re in this together. If this is going to work then you need to let yourself be vulnerable with me. I love you. I want to take care of you, too.’
I leaned away slightly, running my hands over his chest down his torso until they rested low on his hips.
‘And I miss you,’ I added pointedly.
His jaw muscles worked furiously as he swallowed hard. His expression was inscrutable.
‘I’m not going to push y
ou,’ I whispered. ‘But I hope you’ll let me be there for you like you’ve been there for me. Otherwise this is just one-sided and that’s not fair to either of us.’
He didn’t respond and my heart fell. But, I had promised not to push him and I was going to keep my word. I rose up on my toes to brush my lips against his.
‘I’m going to bed,’ I told him.
My chin wobbled as I fought back tears and I left the room quickly. It was relatively early, but exhaustion was a constant companion to me these days and I fell asleep quickly. I woke up with a start and looked around the room in confusion. It was well past midnight and I was still alone. Stamping down my frustration, I got up in search of Nick. He was sitting on the loveseat with his head flung back. I stood watching him for several minutes, not sure if I should approach him. He sat up and leaned over, resting his arms on his legs. I saw his shoulders heave and his hand brush over his eyes and realized he was crying. I was at his side in an instant.
‘Sweetheart,’ I murmured, hugging him.
He made a strangled sound deep in his throat.
‘Go back to bed, love,’ he told me.
‘Come with me,’ I pleaded.
‘I’ll be right behind you.’ His jaw clenched and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
‘Nick,’ I whispered.
‘I’ll be right in, I promise,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘Please go, Cassandra.’
I turned and rushed back to the bedroom, tears blurring my vision. I fell asleep before Nick came to bed.
—
I did my best not to nag or prod Nick, but I knew he felt my worried gazes. I became desperate with fear that he was pulling away, that I was losing him. He was as attentive as ever but now that I had seen the depth of his pain, it felt like a charade. Logically I knew there was no way to force him to open up to me but I still tried to think of something. I even went so far as to ask Abigail to speak with him, thinking he might share something – anything – with her, but she found him to be just as buttoned up during their conversations.
After an almost silent dinner later that week, Nick was cleaning up in the kitchen and I wandered toward the window with a cup of tea. My eye fell on his drafting table and I walked over to look at his latest sketches. Shifting the pages around almost guiltily, feeling like I was intruding on his most private thoughts, I searched for his latest drawings. I saw quickly that he hadn’t completed anything recently. The few he had begun were more angry scrawls than anything else. A sharp pain shot through me.
It was a struggle to concentrate on school. My professors had been gracious and lenient, allowing me to take incompletes since the incident with Jason occurred right before the end of the semester. I had until the end of spring term to finish everything, but I just wanted to get it done, so I plowed through. My work was uncharacteristically mediocre and even more surprising was that I didn’t care. My heart wasn’t in it, I still loved books and libraries, still believed in the world of possibilities and the potential for learning that they provided. I knew it was important in the abstract, I just wasn’t sure it was my path anymore. I felt the urge to do something more useful, but what exactly that was, I didn’t know.
Feeling hopeless as I stopped by my apartment one night after I finished my last class. I was packing up some things to take to Nick’s and unloaded on Gwen without meaning to. We checked in with each other daily but hadn’t been able to have a real conversation in almost a week.
‘I just don’t know what to do,’ I said. ‘He won’t talk to me about it.’
‘I think you need to be more forceful,’ she said. ‘Call him on it.’
‘Really? It seems so – harsh. I don’t think I would have responded to that very well,’ I told her.
‘Well, you’ve tried the hands off approach and that’s not working,’ she pointed out.
I nodded, deciding to change the subject and asked her about Drew. She sighed dreamily and I grinned.
‘I think I love him,’ she whispered, looking scared.
‘I think you do, too,’ I said, still grinning.
‘How do I know? For sure?’ she asked helplessly. ‘How did you know?’
I thought about her question for a long time, knowing she didn’t expect me to answer but that she hoped I would. I had never bothered to put it into words, the knowledge of how right it felt had always been explanation enough for me.
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