Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  I press my lips to hers, taking in the taste of my world. The catcalls, hoots, and clapping are what finally bring us from our moment. Chief is laughing, and Jess buries her face in my neck, trying to hide her embarrassment, but I hear her giggling. All of the guys on our shift are now outside, making a scene and ruining our moment together.

  “Come on. You better go say ‘hi’ to everyone, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” I say, pulling her hand and tugging her towards the firehouse. Her cheeks are flushed, but she smiles at me and laces her fingers through mine as she follows me. Once inside, she spends time talking to all the guys. Most of them she’s known for years, but I introduce her to a few of the newer guys.

  Leaning against the wall, I stand back and watch her as she interacts with everyone. I see glimmers of the old Jess as she smiles, laughs, and talks about her time at the TV station interning, the friends she made, and the beach. In a way, I know that this experience was good for her. I just wish it had been on different terms.

  Finally sneaking away from the guys, she walks up to me and presses a light kiss to my lips. “I missed you,” she whispers.

  “I missed you too,” I say and kiss her back.

  “Please tell me you didn’t just start a forty-eight hour shift,” she says, laying her head against my chest and wrapping her arms around my waist. Still leaning against the wall, she wiggles her arms between my back and the wall.

  “As a matter of fact, I was off at seven. If I had left on time this morning, I would have missed all this.” I run my hands up and down her back.

  “Did you have a lot of calls last night? Are you tired?” she asks. Even if I had been up for thirty-six hours straight, there was no way I was going to go home and sleep now that she was back.

  “It was actually pretty quiet last night. How about I go shower and change and then we can go grab some breakfast?” She’s nodding her head yes against my chest.

  “Sounds perfect,” she says as she pulls away from me. She glides over to the large group of leather sectionals we have in the day room and sits down next to Tony. He’s her Dad’s age, and she has known him since she was four. They fall into easy conversation, and as much as I just want to stand and watch her, I want to get her out of here more.

  ****

  “Almost finished?” I ask as she sips on her third mug of coffee.

  “What’s the rush?” she asks. “I love my coffee.” She winks at me.

  “Then I’ll ask for a ‘to-go’ cup.” Clearly I’m anxious, and actually, slightly nervous for what I’m about to do. What will she say? What will she think? Fuck.

  “Forget it. I’m ready,” she says, pushing her chair back from the table and grabbing her large handbag.

  “Where are we going?” she asks as she pulls her sunglasses off the top of her head and places them over her beautiful green eyes. Lacing my fingers through hers, we walk through the diner and out to my truck.

  “It’s a surprise.” She laughs and shakes her head at me.

  Driving through Santa Ruiz, I turn down Lawson Street and pass our homes. I pull up in front of the house I bought and remodeled that still has the ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard.

  “Why did you park here?” she asks me, looking confused. I open the door and slide out of my seat, meeting her around the front of my truck.

  “Remember this house?” I ask her, studying her face as she takes in the remodeled house.

  “I can’t believe Old Man Johnson finally fixed this place up and is selling it,” she says as she walks through the yard and closer to the front porch.

  “Remember when we would run and how I always stopped in front of this house?” She continues her walk through the front yard, closer to the porch steps. “How I used to tell you that a wrap-around porch would be perfect on this house?” she says, stepping up the front steps onto the porch. Gasping, she turns to me as I still stand, leaning against my truck.

  “Gabe, look.” Her hand is pressed against her chest over her heart. “He added a porch swing.” Her voice is excited. The sight of her taking in everything she had once told me she wanted sends chills over me. She sits down in the swing and gently pushes herself back and forth.

  “This house is absolutely beautiful,” she says. Finally walking across the lawn and up the steps, I meet her on the front porch. She’s still rocking back and forth in the swing, her head tipped backward just slightly, and her eyes are closed.

  “Want to see the rest of the house?” I ask, dangling a single key.

  “How did you get that?” she asks, jumping off the swing.

  “Oh, I know a guy who knows a guy,” I say, laughing at her.

  “Come on.” Opening the glass door, I insert the key into the large wooden door and push it open. Holding the door, I let her in first and watch her eyes take in the large room. Closing the door behind us, I follow her as she walks slowly through the living room.

  I see her mentally taking notes of the new windows, the original floors, and the crown molding. I study her as she sees every little detail that I worked on for months. I stay in the living room as I watch her light steps taking her into the kitchen. When minutes pass and she hasn’t returned, I walk to the kitchen. There she stands with her back against the kitchen island, her arms on either side of her, holding her still. She’s looking out the large windows into the backyard—tears falling down her face. Turning to meet me when I walk into the kitchen, I keep my distance.

  “This isn’t Old Man Johnson’s house, is it?” she asks, swiping at her tears.

  Shaking my head, I simply answer her honestly. “No.”

  “It has everything I ever mentioned to you.” Her lip and chin are quivering as she stops speaking.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “Why did you do this?” she asks.

  “Every second that I was away from you, every overtime shift I picked up, was so that I could provide you with everything you ever wanted: a house, a ring, a family. If I had known what was going to happen that night, I would never have taken that shift.”

  “Stop,” she interrupts me. “What happened to me was not your fault. It wasn’t because you were working that night. I don’t blame you.”

  “I know that, but if I had slowed down, if I hadn’t picked up that shift, you wouldn’t have been running alone.”

  “But you picked up that shift because you were thinking of me,” she whispers, wiping more tears from her face.

  “I can’t remember a time when I haven’t loved you. You have been a part of my life for over fourteen years. When you were younger, it was a different kind of love, but now, it’s the kind of love that won’t let me breathe if you’re not with me. It’s the kind of love that makes me not want to live if I can’t be with you,” I say, meeting her at the kitchen island.

  She’s crying harder now, and I need a moment to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. Holding both of her hands in mine, I know I need to finish this.

  “Jess, this house is for you. Everything I do is for you. I want to give you everything. I know we have a lot to work through, but I never want to spend another day apart from you. I’m not asking you to marry me yet, but one day, I will give you everything—everything you have ever dreamed of, if you’ll let me.”

  Through her sobs and hiccups, she plants herself directly in front of me. “Gabriel Garcia, there is no other man in this world that I will ever love as much as I love you. You loved me when I didn’t even love myself. I don’t deserve your love. But there is nothing in this world that I would love more than being with you for the rest of my life.”

  Pulling her into me, I hold her. I remember the last time I cried—I cried when she left. Today, my tears are for new beginnings—for days with her I thought I’d never have.

  “I’m home. Forever,” she whispers against my chest—and I know she is.

  Epilogue

  Jess

  I can hardly believe it was three years ago that I packed up my life and moved
to North Carolina. Driving away from everything I knew was the scariest, yet most liberating experience of my life. I was broken in every way possible and needed to find out who I was amongst the shattered pieces.

  Reflecting on where I’ve been, I’m thankful for my experiences in North Carolina. I wish I hadn’t hurt Gabe in the process, but I learned important lessons about myself while I was there. The most important lessons I took away: it’s okay to hurt and to be broken, but it’s also imperative to forgive and heal. You have to feel to be able to love. But most importantly, every girl needs a tattooed bad boy to teach her to really live. That boy needs to kiss her like she’s never been kissed, to put her on the back of his motorcycle so she can feel the wind on her face and in her hair, take her for her first tattoo—and to let her go when he knows he’s not the man she really needs. Landon will always be that man, an important part of my life; my friend forever.

  Dr. Peterson and I still talk weekly. We “Skype date.” She helps me process feelings that occasionally surface, but I can say for the first time, I am truly happy. Finding a therapist to help me, talk to me, guide me, and ultimately teach me to love myself, was single-handedly the most important part of my recovery process.

  A year and a half ago I rediscovered my love of running. I run with Gabe or a friend—always, never alone. It’s been my largest hurdle in my recovery. As for my attacker, he has never been found. The case is still open and active, and with the DNA collected and processed, it is still in the hands of the detectives.

  Learning to forgive is the hardest barrier in any relationship, including the one you have with yourself. I had to learn to forgive my dad for not knowing how to grieve my mother’s death and throwing himself into his career as a way to cope. I had to forgive my rapist for taking trust and security from me. But the hardest person to forgive was myself.

  I hurt Gabe in ways that are hard to comprehend. We’ve made amazing strides in our relationship, and now marriage. Gabe proposed to me on the beach in Santa Barbara a year to the date after I returned from North Carolina. We’ve been married for two years now. Gabe is the one person I trust with my life, but most importantly, my heart. Gabe is my everything. Well, one of my everythings.

  Olivia London Garcia was born eight weeks ago. With a full head of dark brown hair and intense, deep brown eyes, she is the love of Gabe’s and my life. There is a sense of peace that Olivia brings to us that words cannot describe. You never know unconditional love until you hold your baby in your arms, look into their eyes, and hold their little hand.

  I spend hours on the front porch swing with Olivia, holding and swinging her while she sleeps and when she’s awake. I look at the beautiful house Gabe worked on for months and feel a sense of home for the first time in my life. I’ve never had a home that was mine, where I felt that I truly belonged, but this is it. My heart is finally home.

  Every day, I thank the heavens above for Gabe and Olivia. No matter what the future holds, what is thrown our way, the love that binds us is unbreakable. That little white tattoo that reads “Infragilis” across my inner wrist reminds me of that daily.

  ***For anyone that has experienced rape or sexual assault of any kind you can find information and help at 1-800-656-HOPE or RAINN.org***

  When It Rains

  By

  Lisa De Jong

  “Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.”

  -John Lennon

  Prologue

  When you live in a small town, there’s not much to do on a Friday night after a football game. When the season started, some of the seniors at my high school decided that we should all get together and have a bonfire after each game. It was really just an excuse to drink and hook-up: two things I wasn’t interested in, but I always went to hang out with my friends anyway.

  That’s where I was that night.

  The night I retreated into darkness, where my night sky had no stars, my days had no sun, and all hope was drained from my body.

  It was the night my life ended.

  Beau Bennett wasn’t there. If he had been, he would’ve saved me, just like he always did. He was grounded that night for staying out past curfew the Friday before; in fact, it’s the only weekend I remember Beau ever being grounded.

  I believe that life is a series of coincidences, and that night, coincidence screwed me over.

  I was there with Morgan, my best friend since third grade. She was dating the Senior Class President at the time and it didn’t take long before they disappeared, leaving me huddled near the fire with some of the other kids from my school. I felt completely comfortable being there because I’ve known most of these people since I had moved here when I was five. That’s one of the nice things about small towns.

  Or so I thought.

  I was sitting with my arms wrapped around myself, trying to warm what the fire couldn’t, when Drew Heston sat down next to me. My stomach immediately did a somersault; I mean Drew was a senior. Mr. Football, as everyone called him. He was the local hero, the type of guy who would have his own billboard outside of town someday. It didn’t hurt that he looked amazing with his short dark hair, light green eyes and broad shoulders.

  I had secretly crushed on him since the day I first walked into the doors of my high school. There was something about the way he walked the halls with his head held high that commanded every girl’s attention, including mine. I’d never talked to him, but there he was, sitting next to me in front of the fire. I couldn’t believe it. Things like that didn’t happen to Kate Alexander.

  “Hey, Kate, how’ve you been?” he asked, his eyes burning into the side of my head. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Just being near him made me lose all comprehension of the English language.

  “Fine,” I mumbled, biting down on my lower lip. A shiver ran through my body like a freight train as I finally peered up at him.

  “Were you at my game tonight?” he asked, bumping my shoulder with his. I could feel the heat coming off his muscular body and it made me blush.

  My thoughts drifted back to the third quarter when Drew threw the ball to his star receiver Jackson Reid who, at the time, was surrounded by defenders. My heart raced with excitement as I watched Jackson and three members of the other team jump up to catch the ball at the same time. In the end, Jackson came out victorious because Drew had thrown it right into his hands. It was nothing short of amazing, yet for Drew, it was completely normal.

  “You were great,” I replied, nervously reaching up to tighten my ponytail. A breeze blew through and a few raindrops fell from the sky. I ran my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to chase the chill from my body, but it didn’t help.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, scooting his body even closer to mine. The way he was looking at me sent butterflies through my stomach. It wasn’t like I was an outcast at school, but I wasn’t one of the elite, popular girls that guys like Drew usually spent any of their time on.

  “A little. I forgot my jacket at home,” I replied, feeling a few more raindrops fall on my cheek.

  He stood up and reached for my hand. “Come on. I have an extra sweatshirt in the house you can borrow.”

  The party was being held at his house since his parents had gone out of town that weekend. I hesitated for a minute before placing my hand in his. I knew of him, but I didn’t really know him. It wasn’t the first time I’d been to his house, but it was the first time I’d been invited inside. I felt a little uneasy, but I still trusted him. I didn’t have any reason not to.

  Drew opened the front door, never loosening his grip on my hand as he guided us through the house. My attention was focused on the contemporary paint colors and beautiful cherry wood floors; it barely registered that we were heading upstairs.

  I watched as he took a key out of his pocket to unlock one of the doors that lined the second story hallway. He must have noticed the way I was looking at him because his lips turned up on the sides. “I don’t like anyone to be in my room but me,” he said, pu
shing the door open.

  I nodded, following him inside. Did I feel a little uncomfortable stepping into Drew Heston’s bedroom? Yes. Did I think for one moment that I shouldn’t be there? No. I’d known him for years and everyone that knew him, thought the world of him.

  When he closed the door and locked it, I felt my heart rate pick up. I watched him glance around the room, following his eyes with mine. The walls were a deep navy blue with various football posters covering them. And I’ll never forget how it smelled like he had used cologne to cover up the stench of his dirty gym clothes.

  Drew remained still, staring at me with glossed over eyes and, suddenly, being there didn’t feel right. “Can you find that sweatshirt? I should probably get back outside before Morgan comes looking for me.”

  “Oh yeah, give me a sec,” he said, moving to dig through a drawer in his dresser. I walked to the window at the other end of the room and looked down at the diminishing fire. The rain was falling faster against the glass making it harder to see into the distance, but it looked like everyone had left their spots by the fire. I really needed to hurry up and find Morgan before she left without me.

  The house was completely quiet, sending a chill down my spine. I closed my eyes and listened to Drew’s footsteps moving closer to me, my heart beating faster every time I heard the rubber soles of his shoes against the floorboards. Everything about being inside his room felt wrong and I knew I needed to escape it. Going to his room was a bad idea . . . and going to that party without Beau was a huge mistake.

  As his footsteps continued to get closer, I spun on my heels to head towards the door. I was greeted with dark eyes and a vacant stare. This was not the same Drew that sat next to me by the fire. I wanted to run out of this house and never look back but he was blocking my path. “I’m going to wait outside. It’s getting warm in here,” I lied, motioning toward his door.