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I really do feel like I'm about to pass out until I see who Becca stops in front of. Nick, wearing tight shorts and an equally tight t-shirt, gives her a look that I know well. It's the same way I look at her, with this mix of fear and awe, all wrapped up in a bundle of anxiety. I wish I could say those feelings are reserved for the gym, but in all honesty, Becca's a little unhinged, so you have to keep alert when she's around. Or you'll find yourself in a seedy bar, in an arm wrestling competition with a bachelorette party.
But when he locks his eyes on me, something new crosses his face. Something that makes my bare toes curl against the padded mat on the floor. Something that makes my heartbeat speed up. I press a hand to my chest, covering its dancing beats, watching as he nods to Becca. She slaps him on the face, a little tap that makes him roll his eyes at her. Then she's back with me, right in my face, blocking my view of Nick.
"You can do this Bree. You're going to work with Nick. You're going to kick his ass, I have no doubt."
"You want me to kick Nick's ass? How the hell am I supposed to do that?" My stupid breathing picks up again, and she grips my shoulders. "I don't want to. Why can't we keep working together? That's been going well. We've been doing it for months."
"That's the problem," she says, squeezing gently. "You can't keep working with me. You're not afraid of me."
"Not true," I mumble, glaring at her. "You're terrifying."
She grins. "Thank you! Now, as I was saying, you have to challenge yourself to face your trauma. That means working with a man. You have the skills Bree, I've made sure of it. But it's no use if you freeze up whenever someone with balls gets in your face."
"You have balls," I mutter, not at all surprised when she just beams at me. Nothing gets to her. "I don't freeze up," I say, feeling stupid when she gives me a look. I do freeze up. It's a fact. I don't know why I keep denying it.
"I'm not a psychologist. You have one of those already, so I'm not trying to take their place. But I do know that facing what scares you is the best way to start conquering that fear. You can't spend the next decade worrying about the next time a man gets rough with you. You will have to face a next time, and I'd much rather you do it here in a controlled environment than out there, alone."
When she puts it like that...I still don't want to do this. The certainty in her voice, that someone is going to try to hurt me again, is devastating. But she's not wrong. Statistically, it could happen again, with a boyfriend, or some random man on the street. And the fear that's wracking my body thinking about it makes me so...angry. I hate everything about it, and its presence in my body. I want it gone so badly that I do something that I promised myself I wouldn't do.
I agree to her stupid plan.
She leads me over to Nick, then heads off to talk to the instructor, one of the owners of this place. And I'm left looking into the richest, prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen. He's searching my face, and the worry on his calms some of my panic. Not all of it, but enough that the black spots in my vision recede.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he finally asks, looking torn. I can't figure out if he wants me to back out, or if he's just trying to reassure me that this will be okay. Either way, I surprise myself when I parrot back Becca's words.
"I'm going to have to face a man out to hurt me sometime. It's better it's here, with you, than out there."
He physically recoils, looking like he's just taken a bullet to the stomach. "What? That's fucked up? Why would you ever have..." he trails off, and I see the realization wash over him. I'm a woman. The likelihood that I'm going to face some sort of violence again in my life is high. "Fuck." His hand curls into a fist and he presses it against his forehead. "I really don't like that idea. At all."
"Neither do I. But I think I'm even more terrified of not being able to protect myself when it happens. I don't want to be anyone's victim again. I won't." Then I give him the deepest, darkest fear I live with. "I'm afraid that if something like that happens again...I won't survive it."
The way I say it makes it clear that I'm not talking about someone killing me. His face falls, filling with sadness. "Oh Bree."
I can't stand that look, or the fact that I put it there. I clutch his hand and pull it against my stomach. "I barely survived the first time. The pain and the fear, and the betrayal, were too much. But I pulled myself out of that spiral. And it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I don't want to ever have to face that again. And I can't control it all, I know that. But I have to believe that I can protect myself, or I don't think I'll ever be able to leave the house again."
"I can have security on you anytime you leave the house. One phone call Bree, and you won't ever have to worry about someone getting to you."
The idea is both unsettling and tantalizing. To know that there's always someone looking out for me would be wonderful, but I'm not sure I could live with constant monitoring. I'm not Beyonce. I am not built for the spotlight. I never wanted it. I just wanted to live my small happy life.
But sometimes we don't get what we want. Sometimes, a man walks into our life and blows it apart. Sometimes, you have to choose a new path.
Looking into Nick's eyes, I make another choice, choose another path. A path that leads to him. To us. "Go ahead Nick, attack me."
He doesn't smile. If anything, his gaze gets more intense, his muscles tighter. "I don't think I can. I can't hurt you, Bree. I...I'm sorry. I can't do this."
He tries to step back, but I don't let go of his hand. I hold it tighter and step into him, pressing our chests together. He looks down at me, absolute torment in his eyes. He is such a good man.
"You're not going to hurt me. That's the point, Nick. That's why it has to be you. I'm safe with you. I know that. And that's why this is okay. I need you to help me feel stronger. No one else can do it. There's not a single other man on this planet that can do this for me."
His head bows, forehead nearly touching the top of my head. "Declan should be here soon, can't he..."
"No. I want you. It has to be you." It's true. Yes, I trust Declan, but not the way I trust Nick. Neither man would ever deliberately hurt me, but I know that Nick would cut off his own hand before he would ever raise it to me. I'm not sure when that certainty settled into my being, but it's there now, locked in my mind and my heart.
I am safe with Nick.
I raise on my toes and press my cheek against his. "Please," I whisper in his ear. "Please, do this for me."
His massive chest grows bigger with his inhale. Then I feel it, the smallest, most imperceptible nod. A wave of relief crashes into me. "Thank you," I whisper, then step back.
