“Get into my office, now!” Dima whisper yells, pushing us apart, trying to get us away from the prying eyes of the paying customers. I walk after them to the back of the bar and into Dima’s office. All dark wood and leather, very sophisticated, very Dima.
“Simon, what the fuck was that! I told you to settle things, not have a fucking bar fight in my bar!” Dima says, slamming the door behind him.
“Sorry but I don’t care, D. He deserves every single piece of pain and humiliation I went through. He doesn’t get to walk away from this!” he shouts, and winces as he paces the room, but the adrenaline is flowing too freely for it to affect him.
“Simon, you have got to calm down. Why are you being like this? He got you out,” Dima tries to reason.
“He fucking left me!” he screams at the top of his lungs and I shatter. The scream is knife sharp in its torment, every word cutting into me with precision for maximum pain.
Where has my Simon gone? Tears stream down his face and Dima looks on in total shock.
“He left me at their hands, then he threw me away! Everyone fucking leaves. Nobody stays…nobody,” he whimpers and falls to his knees, hugging himself in a rocking motion, trying to comfort himself.
I kneel beside him and hold him in my arms, but he fights me, pushing and kicking.
“No, get the fuck off me!”
“No! I’m not going anywhere so just deal with it,” I say, and I manage to keep him in my arms before he gives in. This isn’t just trauma from what happened in Brazil. As he clings to my shirt, crying like a young boy with uncontrollable sobs, this is years of trauma unravelling. I’m mad at myself that I didn’t prod more about what happened to him in foster care. I’m mad at myself for not seeing the signs. I thought it was just me. But it appears that I was the trigger for the floodgates that have opened for all to see.
I look up at Dima, who is standing next to his desk, rubbing his jaw. He didn’t see this coming either. The room is filled only with Simon’s cries, and I look at Dima, unsure of what we should do.
As I go over different scenarios, there is a knock on the door.
“Is everything okay in there?” Jules asks through the door.
“I’m gonna give you some space. Take as much time in here as you need. Just go home when you’re ready,” Dima says, and I nod as Simon continues to shake and cry in my arms. Who knew I had a heart after all?
Dima leaves, and I’m not sure how long we sit on the floor, but Simon’s sobs soon turn to sniffles, and then finally his breathing evens out. I’m out of my depth here, and have no idea what he’s going to do next. Will he lash out again? So I do what I do best, and try to control the situation how I see fit.
“You’re coming back with me tonight. No fight. Nothing sexual. Just come back with me, Simon.”
“Okay,” he whispers.
“Is this the wrong time to tell you how stupid you are for risking your recovery by hitting me?”
He snorts and moves away, and we both stand. Simon looks so lost, so young. The possessive and protective need in me builds to the point I’m not sure I will let him go when he comes back with me.
“It’s not too bad.”
“Liar. Come on, let's go out the back to avoid the gossip.”
He quietly follows me through the back and out to the car. I text Lucas to let him know I’ve left and to return to the apartment building separately. Simon is too vulnerable to be seen like this.
We drive in silence, but it’s calm, almost eerie, like all of the skeletons have been let out of the closet to play in their misery. That explosion of anger and frustration was needed. Everyone needs an outlet and I think that's what I am to Simon. A focal point of blame.
We arrive back at my building, and walk past two of my men as we approach the top floor. No words have been spoken as I think everything he needed to say has been said.
Now it's time for Simon to get his life back.
It’s time for the little lion’s return.
42
SIMON
W alking into Carlos’ apartment is like an out of body experience. I never saw myself coming back here again, but I didn’t
have the strength to deny him. I move slowly into the open space, and just head straight for the bedroom. My ribs ache, my
