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Chapter Nineteen
Maceo
Josephine rests through the rest of the week and into the weekend. She’s starting to worry me. She hardly eats, barely speaks, has panic attacks, and when she sleeps she has night terrors. Getting stabbed in the heart would hurt less than watching her go through this.
By Monday, I’m frantic. I reach out to the VA and get the name of several recommended counselors who specialize in treating post-traumatic stress disorder. Having been around several men who have had it—I have a touch of it myself—I can pretty much diagnose her with it. I make her an appointment with one of the counselors.
My girl is broken, and she doesn’t fight me when I tell her where I’m taking her. If this was my Josephine before Jacob’s attack, she would be fighting me the whole way there. But this isn’t—this Josephine is fragile and it’s gutting me.
The counselor lets me to sit with Josephine through the session because my pixie has no objection to my presence. It doesn’t take long before Josephine is breaking down in sobs retelling the events of that day. Hearing what she was feeling at the time and what she’s feeling now rips a hole through me worse than any shrapnel could. I’m crying as hard as she is by the end of the session.
We’re given good news at the end of the visit. Her counselor feels she’s responsive to therapy, and that continued sessions will help Josephine deal with the stress and anxiety of the attack. We schedule for her to come weekly, and to taper off as she improves. The clinic psychiatrist gives her a prescription to help regulate when she’s feeling emotionally overwhelmed. It seems hopeful, because she doesn’t foresee Josephine needing it long term.
I don’t know which of us feels better after we head home. The thick aura around Josephine seems to have dissipated and we both breathe a little easier. She actually reaches out for my hand for the first time in days, and I weep with relief.
We have a long way to go, but I know we will be stronger because of it.
Tuesday morning, I wake up to Josephine poking me. I grumble but say nothing. I get dressed to drive her to the hospital for a visit with Tiny Tony. When she enters his room, she bursts into tears and runs to his bedside. A concussion and cracked ribs don’t stop him from pulling her into his arms while she cries. He may be a mafioso, but he’s a decent enough guy. I let the two of them hug it out until her tears run dry.
By Wednesday, she’s back at the build site with Hades by her side. Her crew nearly crush her, rushing to embrace her with Jared first in line. I would have let Jared see her sooner, but in light of how catatonic she was, I decided against it. Jared wasn’t happy, but he understood. He filled in their team on what happened last Wednesday. Having her back at work has brought them more relief than anything.
Sore and in pain, she hobbles around the construction zone overseeing every detail like she always does. The normalcy of being back on the job should help with some of her anxiety, which is probably the only reason I agreed to let her come back this soon. By the end of the week, it’s like she’s the same old person at work as before.
The media has been hounding us relentlessly. My crew and I have been able to keep them at bay and shelter Josephine as much as possible, but I was still forced to give a press conference. I stressed the need for privacy as Josephine heals physically and emotionally. It got the media off our front lawn, but news outlets still blow up our phones with requests. Too bad for them they won’t be getting any more information from us.
Hades is not happy going on his morning runs without Josephine. After the first day of me dragging him along, he refused to go, howling and barking up a storm. He hates being separated from her—just like me. All the guys tried to coax him out, but the dog is too damn stubborn.
Eventually Jo comes up with the idea to buy a bike and ride along next to me in order for Hades to get his exercise. I know it hurts her, her body jostles along, but she’d do anything for her dog.
It’s finally Friday evening, and Josephine and I are ready to head home when her cell rings. It’s the hospital, asking us to come in for the diagnostic laboratory results of the rape kit. We meet with the doctor who examined Josephine, hands clasped together in support. We’re informed they found no semen or lubricant from a condom in their testing, only traces of my DNA inside of her.
We leave the hospital and breathe a huge fucking sigh of relief. Even though we knew the chance it happened was small, being able to put it behind us is what we’re more grateful about than anything.
Always eager to make eye contact with my pixie, I look over at her in the passenger seat and see her eyelids flutter. She has been pushing herself too hard with work and not resting enough. Not wanting to hurt her, I’ve been driving her to work in her Subaru while my SUV is in the shop. Her eyes are closed, but she’s wide awake.
She sighs. “I want to put the condo on the market.”
“Whatever you want. What do you need from me to get it done?”
She sighs again. “I need help packing up my belongings and getting them into storage. We can store my stuff in one of the MC garages ‘till we move into the headquarters. I know a realtor who will sell my place quickly.”
“I’ll get the boxes from the U-Haul store tomorrow. And I’ll get the bunnies and the guys not out on assignment to help.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, bracing myself to ask the next question.
“Have you thought about the wedding at all?” I ask cautiously, afraid it may upset her.
She pulls out a white binder from her backpack, flips it open, and starts reading off a checklist she has inside.
“We’re getting married the first Saturday of October. My dress needs a few small alterations and I’ve already booked the appointment. I’ve asked Opal and Ebony to be bridesmaids and I’ve picked out the dresses, but I need one more person. I’m letting you know right now I’m considering asking Jared to stand in as my man of honor since I don’t have a maid of honor. My suggestion is that you guys should go with tailored suits, unless you want your Navy uniforms. I’ve booked the food and liquor vendors, cake bakery, DJ, florist, officiant, outdoor tent company, photographer, and I found the invitations I want to order. How many we order depends entirely on your guest list, which you will have to get to me by the end of next week. I only plan on inviting Jared and my crew.”
My eyes bulge with shock.When the hell did she do all this?
“Oh, and we should decide where we’re going to honeymoon, if we’re going somewhere. I was hoping someplace warm, like an island.”
“O-okay,” I stammer.
She gives me a wry smile. “I’m good at multitasking. I was already planning the real one when we were doing the fake wedding.”
