Unperfect

by Susie Tate

  “Is this okay?” he asked, his eyes flicking down to his hand then back to my face. That was when I realised that I hadn’t tensed at all at his approach. Hadn’t felt even a shiver of apprehension. In the back of my mind, I know I had thought that maybe I’d stay broken forever. That maybe I’d never be normal again. For the first time in a long time I felt hope, unfamiliar but strong, blooming in my chest. I smiled tentatively and gave a quick nod. With hope came bravery. So, as he swept my hair back behind my ear, I reached up to his face. I ran my hand along his strong jaw line – smooth but rough after his shave that morning. The stubble would be back in full force in a few hours. I traced up behind his ear and into his thick hair, my eyes flying to his when he took in a quick draw of air.

  “I know I don’t have to, Mia,” he said, his mouth a hair’s breadth from mine. “None of this is about have to. Don’t you see that yet?”

  His eyes were burning green fire, his expression was almost fierce. Two slashes of red appeared high on his cheekbones as his pupils dilated. And because I felt brave and hopeful and whole for the first time in years, because I felt like I was burning from the inside out with the need to be close to him, because I trusted him and because it would have been impossible to stop myself, I closed the minuscule gap between our lips and pressed mine against his in a feather-like kiss. He sucked in a sharp breath and his head jerked back just slightly so he could read my expression. After a moment’s pause his lips fell back onto mine.

  This kiss wasn’t gentle. It was firm, insistent and accompanied by a low sound from the back of his throat. One of his hands slid under my jaw, the other rested on my hip – not closing me in, not pushing for more. But as I slid my fingers from his hair to the nape of his neck, arching my body into his, and sliding my other hand up his back, I could feel the trembling of his body as he held himself back from me – worried, even now in the grip of his desire, worried that he might crowd me, that he might overwhelm me.

  I loved that this big, abrasive, gruff man cared about me so much that he tried to contain all that fierceness so as not to scare me or push me too far. But at the same time I hated that he felt he had to do that. That he thought I was so fragile. I wanted unedited, disinhibited Max. The rough, unapologetic Max. I didn’t want him to be careful with me, not now. So I opened my mouth under his, allowing his tongue to sweep inside. Still he didn’t let his big body to relax into mine, still I felt the tension in the muscles under my hands. I pulled back enough to whisper against his lips.

  “I’m fine. You won’t scare me. I want the real Max. My Max. Be real with me, please.”

  “Your Max,” he whispered back before scooping me up off the stool and lifting me so that my legs went around his hips. His hard body finally falling into mine and that low growl back in his throat. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he breathed against my neck as he kissed the skin at the base of my throat. “I felt like I was going mad with wanting you.” He lifted me up and put me on the granite of the kitchen island, his mouth fusing back with mine and his hips pressing against me. My breath caught, the high of having him so close almost too much to take. His large hand found the hem of my t-shirt and then splayed across my ribcage under my breast. I followed his lead to feel the smooth skin of his back under his shirt, stretched tight over his taught muscles. Need, sharp and biting, welled up in me and I let out a noise I’d never heard myself make before. A quiet but desperate moan that felt like it was ripped from my soul. Max stilled. It was a good few moments until I realised his phone was ringing.

  “Bollocks,” he muttered, moving back enough to look down at me. He was breathing heavily and his expression was still saturated with need but there was guilt there too, and more than a little concern. He didn’t answer his phone, just continued to stare down at me, searching my face for something. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t … I mean I didn’t mean to rush things like that. I know you need to be comfortable with me. Attacking you in my kitchen when you’re weak with a hangover is not in the plan.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to get my own breathing under control. “What is the plan then? And why are you the only plan maker?” I grinned and moved my hands up his back to encircle him, hugging him to me and laying my head on his chest, still high from those hopeful feelings and the fierce desire I felt for him, coupled with the ability to act on it without becoming a terrified mess. My counsellor had told me that PTSD didn’t have to rule my life. That I could go on to have real relationships, but, if I was honest, I hadn’t really believed him. And anyway, I had thought that if I ever was brave enough to give a man that much power over me again, he would be physically much weaker that Nate ever was – nothing like Max who could squash even Nate like a bug.

  But it wasn’t just a matter of physical strength, was it? You could be the strongest, most lethal man in the world – that didn’t mean you weren’t gentle and caring with the people you loved. With real strength comes the integrity not to use physicality to control others, or emotional abuse to chip someone down to a shadow of their former self. Real strength means helping to build someone up so that they can be a real partner, an equal. A narcissist like Nate didn’t want a partner – just a pawn, someone he could keep in ‘her place’ – subservient, reliant, broken down

  “The plan is I take you to your physiotherapy appointment now, then-”

  “Max.” I cut him off, highlighting my point by bringing my hands up and onto his chest. “I can’t afford a private physio and I-”

  “You’re an employee. If you need to see a physio for an issue that was affecting your work, the company, my company will fund it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “My shoulder is not affecting my work performance. The only thing it affects is my ability to get a mug off the top shelf.”

  “I’ve seen the way you inhale coffee in the morning, Number Five. It’s like the plutonium in your Dolorean, the Sky Net in your Terminator. I would argue that your cup-reaching ability is crucial to your work performance.” His grin was so smug that I tipped my head back to look up at the ceiling and let out a short laugh. “Mia, you are going to this appointment today. It’s already paid for so I’ll be spending the money whether or not you show up.”

  “Max–”

  His smile dropped and his hands cupped my face to tip it down from my contemplation of the ceiling and gain eye contact. “It’s your right arm, love. Your dominant arm, and you haven’t got full use of it. Something has been taken from you, and I want to help you get it back.”

  I paused for a beat, taking in his stubborn expression. “Okay,” I said softly. “Okay I’ll go. And Max …” I leaned into him, my hands moving from his chest to his wrists below my jaw, “… thank you.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. My next words were a little choked with emotion but I managed to get them out. “I mean it. For last night, and for this. Whatever happens between us I’ll always be grateful.”

  He groaned. “Bloody hell, Number Five,” he said in a pained voice. “Didn’t you listen to anything Verity and I said last month? It’s us that’s grateful to you. And please don’t thank me for setting up a lock-in in one of the grimmest pubs in Dorset – that makes me feel like a right tight-arse.”

  “I love the Pig and Whistle – give me that over the Ivy any day.”

  “You’ve eaten in the Ivy?” he stared at me in that assessing way he had.

  “You know – figure of speech.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Right,” he said slowly. “Anyway – plan is physio now. Then later in the week I take you somewhere that’s not the Pig and Whistle and we talk, right?”

  “What physio works on a Sunday anyway?”

  “One that wants to get in Heath’s pants.”

  Chapter 26

  Do your worst

  Mia

  “Eyes, nose, throat and groin,” Teddy told me as I kicked the training bag again. Roger lay on his back, basking in the sunshine of the garden and letting his humans do their bizarre punching. It was two d
ays after my first physio session and my shoulder was already feeling like it had a little more range of movement. “You’ve gotta go for the vulnerable areas, because you’re going to be smaller than most people out there – and weaker.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said to him, aiming a punch at his bicep, which he didn’t even flinch at.

  “Case in point,” he said with a smug expression, pointing from my fist to his arm and back again. “I barely felt that. I don’t even have to wear the training pads when we practice punching.”

  “What? You don’t normally just hold your hands up for peeps to punch?’

  “If I did that with my training buddies I would have multiple fractures and trips to the emergency room. Your punches – not so much.”

  “Fine, fine, Mr Miyagi: eyes, nose, throat and groin. Got it.”

  “So, groin kick is one of the best. Palm heel strike to the vulnerable areas. Combination of the two. Once the attacker’s down, you run. Whatever you’ve got on you, you can use. Got any keys?”

  I turned to my rucksack and fished out my house keys.

  “Okay, so hold them like this.” Teddy showed me how to grip the keys so they were sticking out. “Show me a hammer strike with the keys.” My arm sliced down forward through the air to plunge the keys into an invisible foe. “That’s it. Now, using your elbows is important, especially if your attacker is at close range and you can’t get enough momentum to throw a punch or a kick. So, elbow strike.” Teddy demonstrated and I copied him. Then Rodger jumped up and ran towards the house, barking and tail wagging.

  “What’s going on?” Max was walking from the house towards us, frowning at me and giving Roger a distracted rub down as I did a series of elbow strikes into heel palm strikes.

  “Mia asked me to teach her some more self defence.”

  Max stared down at me and put his hands on his hips. He was still wearing his suit from earlier, but his tie was askew, a five o’clock shadow was darkening his jaw and some of his thick hair was curling around his nape.

  “More self defence? When did you …” I saw the memory came back to Max of me and Teddy in the garden before. “Ah, right. I remember.” He shifted on his feet for a moment. “Sorry about that again, by the way,” he added in a low voice.

  “You were only worried about Teddy,” I said, dropping my hands and taking a step towards Max. “You were just protecting him.”

  Teddy snorted. “He was just being an arsehole.”

  “Teddy!” I snapped but Max grinned.

  “The kid’s right,” he said, giving Teddy a slap on the back. Teddy shook his head but there was a small smile on his face. Ever since refugegate and then the late pick up from the Pig and Whistle, Teddy seemed to have softened towards Max. He was less hostile. There was more light-hearted banter between them, which was how I suspected their relationship was before all the upheaval with Ted’s mum. It wasn’t completely without tension – there was still something underlying their interactions which I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Teddy seemed almost watchful, as if he was waiting for something, bracing for it even. “I’m an arsehole. But a curious one. What are you teaching her then?”

  “Eyes, nose, throat, groin,” I chanted, showing him some kicks and heel palm strikes.”

  He frowned. “It’s all very well punching the air, but with a real human, things are a bit different.”

  I nodded and shrugged. Believe me, I knew how different things could be.

  “You know you should run away if you can, Mia,” Max said. “Don’t try to fight someone if you can get away from them.”

  I nodded again and held back an eye roll. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was run away.

  “Of course I told her that,” Teddy said, clearly miffed. “I’m not completely useless. Right, I’m off to training.”

  “Hey,” I said, skipping after Teddy as he turned to leave and laying my hand on his arm. “Thank you for taking the time with me. I know you didn’t have to. I appreciate it.”

  His cheeks went a little pink and he shrugged. He might try to hide behind a teenage mask of indifference, but I could tell he was chuffed he was helping me.

  “You don’t have to thank me, alright? I-I …” He paused and glanced back at Max who was still out of hearing distance. “Listen, I’m not stupid. I know what a women’s refuge is, right? I know why people have to go there. If you want to be able to defend yourself then I’m going to help you.”

  “Okay, honey,” I said softly, resisting the urge to pull him in for a hug, which I could tell would embarrass the hell out of him. His jaw tightened and I saw him swallow before he jerked his chin up and strode away back into the house.

  I walked back to Max and there was an awkward pause. Neither of us had mentioned the kiss in the two days since it happened, but you could cut the tension between us with a knife. “He’s a good kid,” I said, breaking the silence.

  Max snorted. “He’s a punk.” He looked at my expression and smiled. “Okay, so when he’s not being a teenage arsehole I guess he can be a good kid. Sometimes. Did he show you how to break a hold?”

  “Er … what now?”

  “Break out of a hold – you know if someone grabs you from behind.”

  I shook my head.

  “Good – cause he’s a teenage punk. Bad – cause that’s one of the most important things to learn. I-” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I can show you if you want?”

  I nodded. Max was right – if I wanted to learn to defend myself I had to actually deal with a human.

  “Do your worst,” I told him, bracing for impact. He chuckled.

  “Mia, I’m not going to attack you. Look, stand with your back to me.” He stepped up in front of me took both my shoulders and spun me around so I was facing away from him. “I’m going to put my arms around you from behind very slowly, alright?”

  I tensed. My right index finger started tapping onto my left wrist, centring me in the moment. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” I said on the exhale. He’d moved closer – I could smell his aftershave mixed with fresh soap and underlying Maxness. His arms came up around me slowly. Rodger, sensing the tension, gave a short bark. His ears were forward and he was watching me.

  “You tell me to stop anytime you need, Number Five,” Max told me. “I’ll drop away my arms any time you say, alright.”

  “Right,” I said in a high, choked voice. “It’s fine. Go on.” His back pressed against my front and his huge arms came up around my waist, pulling me into him.

  Max

  She was shaking.

  I could feel the fine tremors as her soft body moulded back into mine. Her breathing sped up and all her muscles tensed. I held still for a minute, waiting for her to tell me to release her. But my brave Number Five, she did that tapping thing on her wrist again and the shaking subsided … almost. Her hair smelt of strawberries. I had to conjure up an image of my nan making marmalade naked to will my body into relaxing. I gave it a few seconds but she was still too tense and her breathing too erratic so I let go and stood back.

  “What was that?” she asked, turning to me with a confused expression.

  “Have a break,” I said. “Take a breath. There’s no rush.” She wasn’t going to take anything in if she felt trapped and terrified. She blushed, probably guessing that I could tell how anxious she’d been. After a moment she shook her arms out, turned her back to me and told me to go for it again. I put my arms around her twice more, each time waiting a little longer before I let go. On the third time after I stepped back she turned to me with a frustrated expression.

  “Are you actually going to teach me or what? I don’t think most attackers are going to just let me go.”

  “Mia, I’m not an attacker,” I said in a gentle voice. “You’ve got to be relaxed to take it in – not scared to death.”

  “I’m fine. I-” I raised an eyebrow and her eyes went to the side, before focusing back on me again. “Okay, but I will be fine now.
Try it again.”

  This time when I enclosed her in my arms she didn’t tense and she didn’t need to tap.

  “Okay so lean forward over my arms.” She did as I asked which pushed her bottom into my groin and I almost had to step away. “Bring your elbow up. Now, swing round and elbow strike me to push away.” Her elbow strike was completely pathetic but I let her go anyway.

  “I did it!” she said and I stifled a laugh.

  “Mia, I let you go again.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ve got to go for it. Really smash me in the throat or nose. You won’t hurt me.” We tried it twice more. She gradually put more effort into her elbow strikes but they still didn’t make me release her.

  “Okay, you need to get your rage on,” I told her. “There’s got to be some real anger behind your attempts. Forget who I am, okay? I’m not Max for the moment. I’m someone you’ve got to get away from. Someone you want to hurt.” She stared up at me and I saw her eyes fill with determination, her mouth set in a hard line before she turned her back to me again.

  “Right, I’m ready,” she said, her voice low and steely, her fists clenched by her sides. As soon as my arms trapped her she jerked forward violently over my arms, nearly throwing me off balance, then her small elbow came up and slammed into my throat, forcing me to let her go. She shot forward as soon as my arms dropped and then turned to me with a huge smile on her face.

  “I did it!” she shouted, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Rodger bounced around her as well, barking his head off with excitement – never mind that his master could barely breathe. “Elbow strike, motherfucker!” she crowed.

  I would have laughed but I was too occupied with trying to suck air in after the blow to my windpipe. “That’s great, Number Five,” I managed to get out in a choked voice once I could inhale enough air to survive on.