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But it was the finished Navesink Bank Women’s Shelter.
And I was standing out front, like I did every single Wednesday for the past month.
It was all Shane’s idea really.
At first, he had always kind-of found my sleeping abuse of him somewhat amusing. That was until he had heard me cry out Ross’ name while I was kicking off him one night. Then the worry set in.
I never remembered my dreams, not since I was a kid. So, to me, it wasn’t a big deal if I was maybe having some nightmares. But to Shane, it was a big deal. He said it obviously meant I was repressing the trauma and that my subconscious mind was trying to work through the issues that I wouldn’t allow my conscious mind to do. Or some other therapist mumbo-jumbo like that.
I kinda laughed it off, played it down, changed the subject. Or, when he was in a particularly unrelenting mood, used some naked distraction to change the subject.
But he wouldn’t let it drop.
And I was tired of hearing Ross’ name.
So, in an effort to placate him and remove whatever wedge the issue was creating between us, I had agreed to his plan. That meant I was to give counseling a try. Luckily for me, the shelter held it three times a week.
I chose Wednesdays for multiple reasons. One, Helen and Fee were known to help out in the daycare center on Mondays. Two, thanks to some raking over the coals the contractors had done during the remodel, the funds they had to pay rent dried up and the building almost hit the market again. Until Charlie and Helen convinced Ryan to invest, telling him it was a good write-off, it gave the family an even better name in the community. So, yeah, Ryan owned the building. And that meant he was there a lot of the time checking on things. But not on Wednesdays because he had a standing workout thing with Shane and Mark.
That brought me to the shelter.
Really, I didn’t like it.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to say that.
I was supposed to say that therapy was the best thing that ever happened to me, that I felt so much better when I talked about it, that I was healing and getting closure or some shit like that.
But I didn’t feel that way.
Every time I walked into the main floor, beautifully decorated with Fee’s old living room stuff, and got my visitor badge from the front desk where a pretty receptionist stood with a security guard stationed behind her, then walked down the hall to the therapy room where we all literally sat in a circle in mismatched, but comfortable armchairs, I felt like I didn’t belong there.
Logically, that made no sense.
I had been through things that most of the others had.
I had felt the need to run away like the rest of them.
But I didn’t feel the need to talk about the issue to death. It happened. It sucked. But I survived. I got away. I built a beautiful new life.
Maybe that was it.
I wasn’t still in the stage most of the women in the shelter were, the on-the-run stage, the what-if-he-finds-me stage, the how-can-I-move-on-from-this stage, the how-can-I-ever-trust-myself-or-a-man-again stage. I wasn’t running. Ross could never find me, being dead and all. I moved on. And I learned there was nothing wrong with my judgement when it came to men. And by learning that, knowing I could trust myself, I slowly but surely learned to trust a man again. Actually, maybe for the first time.
In a sick, twisted kind of way, I almost felt like what I went through was worth it. Not that I felt I deserved it or that any woman needed to go through hell to know a good thing when they saw it, but the years I felt trapped and abused by Ross with a family that stood by and let it happen, yeah, it in an awful way led me to Shane. It led me to a man who would never hurt me. Who would, instead, do everything in his power to make sure that no one could ever hurt me again. In leading me to Shane, it also led me to the amazing parents I never really got to have. Helen was the kind of female role model every daughter needed, strong, unbending in her beliefs, but would do anything for those she loved. Charlie, while obviously softening in his age, chasing around grand babies instead of breaking kneecaps, was a strong patriarch who kept everyone in line.
Then, of course, there were the Mallick brothers.
Really, what could be said about them?
As a group, they were a rowdy, headstrong, funny, unstoppable force.
Individually, they all had something different to offer.
Ryan, after our odd bonding that night I went to seek his help, had become my go-to when I had a problem or sometimes when I just had questions. He was the one to help me pick out Shane’s birthday present. He had gone with me when I finally saved up enough cash to get a slightly less busted-up car because I knew Shane would try to pay if brought him, stopping on the way to pick up Colton King to check it over.
