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I was about to find out just what haunted Posie Tinley.
Chapter 9
Posie~
Normally, I avoided the gym at work, but science claimed that exercising released endorphins that supposedly made you happy, and I needed all the happy that I could get.
After making it through the rest of my shift without getting fired, I still hadn’t been able to keep myself from cringing over my inappropriate actions and thoughts about my boss. I had no idea how our conversation had gone sideways, but it had. Something…odd had happened during our exchange, and this goddamn treadmill was supposed to help me identify what that oddness was.
With my earbuds in my ears, not doing a damn thing to distract me from my thoughts, I almost fell face first into the machine when I looked over and saw Killian Warrick stepping onto a treadmill two machines over.
Holy Mother of Pearl.
Gone was his perfectly tailored suit, his perfectly styled hair, and his perfectly everything else professional. In its place was a loose male tank-top, some basketball shorts, and sneakers. He looked like a regular guy, on a regular treadmill, at a regular gym, and he had everything going for him, including those cut, shredded, delectable muscles peeking out from his sleeveless shirt.
I, on the other hand, was dressed in a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Under delusions of grandeur about using the gym, I had brought the amazing ensemble with me when I had first started working here. Well, this was the first time that I’d worn them, and the outfit was not flattering.
Tearing my eyes away from my boss, I did my best to get my breathing under control. I did not need to pass out after only ten minutes of a light jog on a treadmill. I could really see Killian firing me after that, citing that I was a danger to myself and others.
Concentrating on all the numbers that were flashing at me from the screen before me, I did my best to get myself together and focus on something other than my boss.
About three years ago, and after a lot of reassurance from my therapist, I had tried dating. When I had first started therapy, I’d gone three times a week, and the frequency had been needed. Slowly, over time, three times a week had turned into twice a week, then once a week. From there, it’d gone to once every two weeks to once a month. When I had reached twice a year, I’d felt safe enough to try dating. I’d been a wreck, but I’d had no choice. Despite what had happened, I didn’t want to be alone forever. I wanted a family one day and hiding out from the world was not going to accomplish that for me.
While the dating had been relatively uneventful, four dates in with my first date had been enough to know that it wasn’t the dating that I’d needed to test out, it’d been the sex. Dating was really just another version of becoming friends with someone, and I hadn’t been looking to make more friends. With Lennon’s family being as large as it was, I had all the friends that I would ever need in life.
Sex had been the issue, and to be honest, it still was.
So, instead of going out on more dates, I had joined a hookup site, and after vetting a few matches, I had chosen Timothy Westbury as my test subject. It had taken me a while to go through all the obvious douchebags, but it’d been worth it.
When Timothy and I had first met for dinner, I had been painfully open and honest with him. Though I’d left out the graphic details, I’d been forthcoming with what had happened to me. Of course, I hadn’t gone into all the drama that had been the catalyst for my attack, but I’d been honest about there being three assailants, about the years it had taken me to recover, and about why I had created a profile for the site that we’d been matched on.
Timothy had been almost too kind about it. He had listened and hadn’t judged what I was doing or why. After telling him everything, he had asked for time to think about it, and I had honestly thought that I was never going to see him again.
It had taken two days for him to contact me, and when he’d told me that he’d made an appointment to see a rape counselor, so that he could make sure that he wouldn’t be doing more harm than good, I had cried all over the man. Genuine kindness from strangers was rare, and instead of agreeing just to get laid, he had cared enough to talk to a professional before making his decision.
That night, we’d done nothing but talk. Timothy had asked a million questions, and I had done my best to answer them. However, he had never asked for details about the attack. He had only asked questions about my therapy and what my sexual desires had been before the attack. Our conversation had gone on for hours, and I could remember thanking God for bringing Timothy into my life. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to experiment with.
It hadn’t been until three days later that we had agreed to go to dinner and treat the night like a real date. I’d been nervous, but Timothy had been as patient as a saint throughout it all.
We had agreed that the safety and comfort of being in my own home might help the situation better, so we’d gone back to my place, and things had gone better than I had ever imagined that they could. Timothy had followed my lead in everything, and though I had freaked out a couple of times, he’d been able to pull me back to the present and get me through that first hurdle.
Timothy and I had become friends of sorts after that first time, and for two months afterwards, he had helped me conquer my demons. When he’d had to move away for work, I’d felt crushed, but not because I had developed feelings for him, but because I’d just lost a very important friend.
Of course, Lennon had been happy for me when I’d told her about Timothy for the first time, but that still hadn’t lessened her worry for me. Any little thing could be triggering for me, and we both knew that my hurdles were more like mountains. Nevertheless, I’d been determined to climb those mountains successfully, and I still was.
After Timothy, I’d felt more comfortable dating, but it was hard to date someone and not warn them what they were getting into. While the topic was a dark one and not fit for first date conversation, I used my honesty as a measuring tool for the men that I went out with. If my tragic past scared them away so easily, then they weren’t the man for me.
I needed a fighter.
I needed a warrior.
I needed someone that looked at me like Camden looked at Lennon.
Now, while I hadn’t found my Prince Charming, I had managed to have sex with two other guys after Timothy, but nothing had panned out to become a serious relationship. Both men had ended up admitting that they couldn’t handle the pressure, so I had ended up letting them both off the hook.
My problem now was that I felt attracted to Killian, and only stupid people found themselves attracted to their boss. Sure, it was okay to find them attractive, but to let that turn into doodling their names on your notebook was insane.
Knowing that I needed to get off this damn treadmill before I did something stupid, I started stabbing at the buttons, mad for no apparent reason. However, because I was too busy judging my life choices, I tried getting off the treadmill before the track had come to a full stop, and…
