Page 73 of Flashback for the Forward

In truth, I was more worried about what it would mean for my future with Cole if I never found a way to clear this hurdle. I loved him with all my heart, but could I live with the guilt of shackling him with a sexless relationship?

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Dr. Marshall prompted.

Hanging my head, I spilled the details. “Things were getting hot and heavy between us, and then he touched my neck.” I couldn’t suppress a shudder. “All of a sudden, I had a flashback to when Aiden tried to choke me, and I freaked out, shoving Cole away.”

“Was that the first time you two made physical contact in a romantic way?”

“No, we’ve kissed a few times before, and it’s been fine.” My cheeks heated. “More than fine; it was great. And we hold hands all the time—while eating and on our walks.”

The therapist absorbed that information. “It’s possible, for now, that certain body parts need to stay off-limits to avoid activating triggers. Your neck is definitely one of them, and you may find that as time goes on, you’ll discover others.” There was a pause before she continued, “You’ve mentioned that sex with your abuser was never enjoyable. Do you think it would be possible for you to elaborate on why not?”

That was an easy question to answer. “When we were intimate, he made me feel helpless.”

“Helpless how?”

“He liked to restrain me. It was almost like he got off on me fighting against his hold and begging for mercy.” After a while, I learned to stop struggling, and it earned me a reprieve, because then there were times he’d have difficulty getting his dick hard to fuck me.

Dr. Marshall made a note on her tablet. “You were stripped of control.”

“Yes.”

“You might want to consider sharing that part of your history with Cole. Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. But I think it would help him understand some of your hangups and learn what to avoid as you continue to explore a physical connection. It’s important to remember that communication is key in relationships.”

She was right. Talking to Cole—sharing my past with him—was crucial if we wanted to have a future together. He hadn’t hesitated to help me when I’d shown up battered and bruised, and I knew in my heart he wouldn’t turn his back on me once I explained how truly ugly my relationship with Aiden had been.

Still, there was one thing that rankled at me. “I hate that he sees me as a victim.”

Through the screen, her expression softened. “You’re not a victim, Bridget. You’re a survivor. You found yourself in a bad situation, and you got yourself out. That’s not easy to do; it takes an immeasurable amount of strength to break free of an abusive, controlling relationship. Some days will be tougher than others; there’s no way around that. But during our short time working together, you’ve proven to be tenacious. I have faith that you’ll keep fighting your way down the path of recovery.”

I wish I had her confidence.

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss before we end our session?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “No. I’m good.”

“All right, we’ll talk soon.”

After I said goodbye, the video call ended.

The more I thought about it, the more determined I became to take back the power that Aiden had stolen from me. It might require pushing through some of my mental blocks, but if I was as strong as Dr. Marshall believed me to be, I could do it.

Now, all that was left to do was figure out how to convince Cole that I was truly ready to take the next step.

A lightbulb went off in my brain, and I reached for my discarded phone, dialing a familiar number.

After three rings, the line connected, and I blurted, “I need a favor.”

Chapter 22

Cole

Coach waited until every member of the team was huddled around him on the bench before speaking. “We’re tied with ninety seconds left and have a man advantage. I’m going to pull Christian out of the net to give us an extra two men. If you can win this thing in regulation, I’ll give you the day off tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

Everyone murmured some form of agreement.

Except for Jagger, who shouted like an idiot, “Got a hot date tonight, Coach?”

I groaned into my gloved palm.