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“I think so.”
“That’s a conversation you need to have with him because there’s a good chance that’ll happen. Sometimes you’ll get a flashback if he touches you or says something that triggers a memory. He has to look for signs and read your cues.”
“Okay,” I draw out.
“If you need support, we can always bring him into one of our sessions.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Then you need to get real comfortable, real fast, because you shouldn’t enter into any kind of physical relationship without discussing boundaries.”
“Right. Okay. I can do that,” I say, though doubt creeps along the corners of my mind.
Danielle sees it immediately. “What’s your hesitation?”
“That he might not feel that way about me, and I don’t want to get rejected.”
“That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
I scoff. “So, do I just say, ‘Rigger, do you want to have sex with me? But before you answer, I might freak out, and even if you’re balls deep, you have to be okay pulling out?’”
“I mean, you could, but I might start the conversation a little slower. Ask him on a date; let him romance you a little.”
My head cocks to the side. “You’ve met the guy. Does it look like he does romance?”
She laughs. “He might surprise you, and I think I’ll make that your homework. I want you to ask Rigger out on a date.”
I practically snort a laugh. “Okay, but when I call you crying because he’s disgusted by the thought, I’ll expect you to cancel all your other sessions and fix me.”
“You know I will.”
“Okay. Wish me luck. I’ll talk to you on Monday.”
I hang up and jump off the bed, feeling energized and ready to work. Leaving my room, I stop at all the open doors, saying hello to all my girls. Rigger and therapy have held me together over the last month, but my girls have given me life.
Betty, who just arrived for her third tour, calls me into her room.
“What do you think about this?” She stares into her full-length mirror, running a hand up and down her curves. The outfit—if you can call it that—is three small triangles of fabric strung together by what looks like hot pink floss.
“I’d bang you,” I say with a laugh.
“Really? It’s not too much?”
“If it’s too much, then the guest isn’t enough for you.”
“Truth.” She sits down in front of her vanity. “How was therapy?”
Needing to talk to someone who will give me more direct advice, I shut the door and sit on the bed.
“Uh oh, what happened?” she asks, giving me her full attention.
“Nothing happened.” I weave my fingers together. “I just asked her if she thought I was ready to maybe have normal sex.”
“Normal? What’s the fun in that?”
I laugh at her joke. “I just mean sex that isn’t forced on me by my stepdad.” It’s still crazy how I spent years never saying those words, and now, they freely fly out of my mouth.
She grimaces. “Why do you have to say it like that?”
