What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4)

by Selena Kitt

  I don’t know what the appropriate thing to feel is after you’ve told someone you were raped, and even though I’m bone-numbingly tired, I feel stronger. As if he’s taken some of the weight from me and tossed it away in the gutter where it belongs.

  ‘I’m so sorry about Mia,’ I say.

  ‘I’m sorry about everything,’ he says wearily.

  I glance at the clock. It’s almost ten p.m. That’s enough for me for tonight. I’ve taken the first step.

  ‘I think I’d better be getting back home.’ I release his hand, and already I miss the warmth and comfort there. ‘I hope I didn’t keep you from anything.’

  ‘No.’ He points to the bruises on his face. ‘I’m not allowed to teach for a while. Doctor’s orders.’ He picks up the mugs and plates and rinses them before stacking them in the dishwasher.

  As I turn off the lights and lock the front door, he waits for me outside on the street with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Everything that’s happened tonight feels so surreal, like I dreamt it all.

  Except for that flutter of hope inside. That’s very real now.

  I walk up to the flat and unlock the door.

  ‘Night, Grace. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I bite my lower lip for a second. ‘Thanks, Ben. For everything.’

  ‘No need to thank me.’

  I close the door and check the locks, but the urge isn’t as strong as usual. I manage with only checking each lock six times then strip off and get into a long, hot shower.

  I wash away the shampoo and shower gel, and its swirling down the plughole hypnotizes me. It reminds me of the night it happened. How I came home and showered like a mad woman. Scrubbing and scrubbing my skin with stinging hot water until it was raw, and even the pressure from the water hurt. How I wanted to wash myself with acid. How it felt like I could never be clean enough.

  Soiled.

  Dirty.

  Disgusting.

  How I must’ve been a horrible person for this to have happened. Wanting to crawl out of my skin.

  I tried to wash it away, except it wouldn’t go. Would never go.

  Knowing I’d never be the same person again. That woman was gone forever.

  I fight back the nausea in my stomach and the adrenaline closing my throat as I try to take deep breaths.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  I hear Ben’s calming voice in my head and try to think something positive. Something different.

  It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault.

  And now I’m trying to believe the water washing away is a cleansing ritual, as if I’m taking the first step to rid myself of the memories.

  I force myself to smile. This is the beginning of something big.

  When my head hits the pillow, I try the deep breathing again. I fall asleep before I even know it.

  It doesn’t last, though. Maybe talking about him has made it worse, brought the fears to the surface. I wake up at two a.m. bathed in sweat, seeing his face. Feeling him pushing into me.

  I throw the covers back and sit on the edge of the bed, hyperventilating. My head’s in my hands, and I rock back and forth, tugging at my hair.

  I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I’m an idiot for even trying.

  Then I open my eyes and stare at the floor, remembering everything Ben had said.

  My ex did this to me. I didn’t do it to myself. Everything’s his fault.

  I didn’t want it. I didn’t ask for it. Why should I feel ashamed, dirty, and worthless?

  A voice inside my head urges me to fight back. So I fight the only way I know how to at that moment.

  I scream into the darkness.

  ‘You fucking bastard!’ I yell over and over again, directing my anger and suffering at him, where it belongs. It’s been pent up inside for far too long, and I’m tired of fighting it all.

  As I cry, the emotional pain is so intense I grab onto the mattress to stop me sliding to the floor. And when I’m hoarse from shouting and screaming, I get back under the covers, curl into a ball, close my eyes and breathe.

  When I wake up, it’s six-thirty a.m., and for the first time in forever, I’m late for work.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben

  I knock on the door of the coffee shop at quarter to eight. I reach inside the messenger bag over my shoulder for the things I’ve brought her. I already checked twice, but I do it again anyway.

  OK, I’m nervous. I don’t know how she’s going to react to seeing me this morning after everything she revealed last night. Sometimes things get worse before they get better, and I don’t want her to give up on this.

  On herself.

  On me.

  She comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Her face hovers somewhere between a smile and a frown.

  ‘Hi.’ I look down at her. ‘How are you?’

  Her forehead smoothes out, and she smiles. ‘I’m OK. Surprisingly.’

  Just the sight of that smile makes me happy. ‘Good.’ I follow her into the shop. She steps behind the counter, and I put my bag in the office. I don’t want to give it to her when Lisa’s going to show up any minute. It’s not my secret to tell.

  I make myself useful, turning on the machines and making sure the cups are clean and stacked while she brings out the food from the kitchen and arranges it neatly. We work in comfortable silence until Lisa knocks on the door.

  ‘It’s open!’ Grace calls out to her.

  Lisa waddles through the door and grins at us both. ‘Morning, all. Why aren’t you locking the door now?’

  I know why. Grace still doesn’t trust me completely, and I don’t blame her.

  ‘I probably forgot to lock it after I came in,’ I say, wiping down some cutlery. My gaze snaps up to Grace, and she risks a glance in my direction. She knows I know why.

  ‘So, my last day.’ Lisa scrunches up her face. ‘Are you going to miss me?’

  ‘You know I am.’ Grace gives her a big hug. Suddenly, I’m wishing I were Lisa.

  ‘How about you?’ Lisa nudges me with a grin.

  I laugh. Lisa’s great. She’s extrovert and fun and seems like a really nice girl.

  The door opening breaks up the conversation, and we all get to work as the morning rush takes over.

  We work in harmony together. Two of us serving as one clears tables and cleans up after the customers, swapping round now and then. I wonder if Grace realizes how close I am to her as I serve. I sneak glances at her when she’s not looking, but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable with me, and I take that as a good sign.

  By the time I look at the clock, it’s past midday. The morning’s flown by.

  ‘Do you want to take your break?’ Grace asks Lisa.

  ‘OK, as long as I get my pressie when I get back.’ She winks and heads off out the shop to go home and snatch an hour’s rest.

  When she gets back, it’s quieted down. Grace disappears into the office and returns with a small present wrapped up in pink paper with pictures of teddy bears on it and a big, pink bow on top.

  Lisa squeals and claps her hands together. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it and find out.’

  ‘Is it a pram?’

  Grace rolls her eyes. ‘It would be the world’s smallest pram.’

  ‘A rocking horse?’

  ‘Just bloody open it!’ Grace groans.

  Lisa sets it on the counter and tears into the wrapping paper. Inside are about twenty Babygros and bibs in all colours.

  ‘God, it’s real now.’ Lisa’s eyes water. She rubs her belly and looks up at Grace. ‘I’m going to be a mum.’

  ‘You’ll make a great mum,’ Grace says.

  Lisa points a finger at me, but she’s only teasing. ‘You’d better look after her when I’m not here.’

  I can’t think of anything else I’d like more. ‘You can count on me.’

  ‘Thank you, hon.’ Lisa hugs Grace, and both their eyes are watering. ‘OK, stop it now.’
Lisa breaks free first and wipes her eyes. ‘You’re making me cry.’ She rushes off to the staff toilet.

  ‘Want to take your break now?’ Grace asks me.

  ‘What about you?’

  She waves a hand. ‘I’m OK.’

  ‘Yeah, but you never seem to have a break. You take yours first. I’ll have mine later. Actually…I’ve got enough lunch for two. Thought you might like some.’ I was up extra early making something I hoped she’d like. It’s obvious she doesn’t eat enough, and healing is as much about looking after your body as it is your mind.

  When Lisa returns, I go into the office and pull out a ciabatta wrapped in tin foil from my bag. The smell makes my mouth water, but I can wait for mine. She’s more important.

  ‘Brie with roasted veg and sundried tomatoes,’ I say when I hand it over.

  Grace’s mouth drops open. ‘You made me lunch?’

  ‘Good move, Ben. I keep telling her to eat more, but she never listens to me. Go on, then.’ Lisa shoos Grace into the office. ‘Sit down and eat for once.’

  When Grace is out of the way, Lisa gives me a high five. ‘Yep,’ she says. ‘I think she’s found a good replacement for me.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grace

  He made me lunch? And what’s more, it tastes delicious. I don’t realize how hungry I am until I take a bite and chew, savouring the perfect blend of flavours. Even though it’s a pretty simple lunch, it’s gastronomic heaven.

  I don’t take a break, though. I catch up on paperwork and accounts at the laptop on my desk instead. Every now and then, Lisa and Ben’s laughter filters through the corridor.

  He’s got a nice laugh. Like the rest of him, it’s warm and relaxed.

  I start thinking about what he told me last night. I can understand why Mia did what she did. Sometimes, it seems like it’s easier just to let go than carry on trying to put one foot in front of another. It’s obvious he loved her a lot and misses her like crazy. Is that why he went to study in Australia? To get away from everything for a while?

  I know the grief that death brings. I was only thirteen when Mum died of breast cancer. It doesn’t ever completely go away, but it does get easier. Now I know why I recognized the hurt in his eyes the first time I saw him in the hospital. He tries to hide it, but it’s there, raw and visceral. Maybe that’s why I feel this strange connection to him. Maybe it’s why I don’t want to run away from him when he’s working so close beside me.

  I want to take his pain away. Maybe I can help him, too, in some way.

  I throw the foil wrapper in the bin and go back to the counter. Ben’s clearing one of the tables, and Lisa’s wiping down one of the coffee machines.

  She leans in close to me and whispers, ‘He’s so sexy!’

  ‘Shh! He might hear you.’ My face flushes, and my heartbeat quickens with embarrassment for him. Lisa’s not shy in saying what she thinks.

  Lisa shrugs. ‘Just telling it like it is.’

  ‘How was your ciabatta?’ Ben asks as he comes back to the counter.

  ‘It was delicious, thanks. Why don’t you go and have yours now?’

  He undoes his long green apron, hangs it in the kitchen, and goes into the office to eat.

  ‘So, what do you think? He’s gorgeous, right?’ Lisa presses me. ‘He even looks great in an apron.’

  I roll my eyes and say, ‘Yes,’ just to shut her up.

  ‘And ripped. Have you seen his muscles under that T-shirt? Not to mention tall, dark, and… hot.’

  ‘Yeah, you already said that. About a million times.’

  She goes on about him, and I try to drown her out. I don’t want to think about it. He’s helping me out professionally, as a counsellor, as a friend, that’s all. I don’t want anything else, and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to have a relationship again.

  It’s too painful.

  ‘Is he single?’ she carries on.

  ‘I don’t know!’ My face flushes again. ‘We’re just friends, and he works here, that’s all.’

  She folds her arms, raises her eyebrows and says, ‘Right.’

  Luckily, she can’t say anymore because it gets busy, and Ben returns. I try to focus on serving customers, but every few minutes I find my gaze heading in his direction.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ben

  Lisa sheds more tears when she leaves early for her antenatal class.

  ‘I’m coming back next week to check up on you both.’ Lisa sniffs through a blocked nose. ‘Just to make sure you’re both doing things right. Wouldn’t want the reputation of the coffee shop to go down because I’m not here anymore.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Grace grins at her. ‘Free coffee and cakes for you.’

  Lisa gives me a hug before she goes and whispers in my ear, ‘Look after her, or I’ll kick your arse.’

  I laugh. ‘Nice to have met you.’

  ‘Hey, didn’t I say I was coming back?’ Lisa raises her eyebrows at me. ‘Right. I’m going now before I bawl.’

  ‘She’s a character,’ I say.

  ‘She’s lovely.’

  ‘I hope it’s OK, but I’m going to be a bit late tomorrow morning.’ I turn my back to her to get more cups from a cupboard on the back wall. I don’t want her to see yet another lie coming. ‘I’ve got an early morning appointment I can’t get out of. I should be in by about half past nine, though.’

  ‘That’s OK. I can manage. I bet you have to do counselling at odd hours sometimes.’

  I busy myself pulling cartons of milk out of the fridge. It’s not a counselling session, but I don’t correct her. I can never tell her the real reason for the appointment.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, actually…’ She pauses, and I can tell without looking she’s biting her lower lip again. She does it a lot. ‘I think I need to learn self-defence. Can you teach me?’

  I swing round to face her. ‘I think that’s a great idea. They run in three-session cycles. Two hours each week. The next session starts in two weeks. Is that OK?’

  ‘That sounds good to me. You can put a leaflet up in here advertising it if you like.’ She nods toward a notice board on the back wall.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll bring one in tomorrow. You know, self-defence and increasing your aerobic endurance can improve the chance of your brain changing the freeze response you had to a fight reflex. It’s no guarantee, and even experienced martial artists can still freeze, but it may help if you ever have to use it again.’

  Another customer comes in, and it’s back to serving coffee for the commuters on their way home until we close. I clean the machines, and she tidies the kitchen. No food is left for the homeless shelter today, and I’m not surprised. I’ve tried most of her stuff, and it tastes amazing.

  ‘Where did you learn to cook?’ I ask as she comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

  ‘From my mum. She was an amazing cook.’

  ‘Was?’

  She looks up, and I see sorrow in her eyes, but not the hard grief that’s acute. It’s faded around the edges with time, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to pull her into my arms and stroke her fiery hair. Feel her warmth against my chest and take all that pain away.

  ‘She died of breast cancer when I was thirteen.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I think about Mia again and my stomach clenches, as if I’ve just been landed with a prize-winning kick.

  ‘Dad left us when I was about six months old, so it was always just me and Mum. After she died, the only family I had left was Aunt Imogen, who owns this shop. She wasn’t exactly what you’d call maternal, but she was saddled with a sad, hormonal thirteen-year-old girl, and I don’t think she knew how to cope with me. She’d never been married and never had kids, and she made it pretty clear I was a big inconvenience to her.’

  ‘It must’ve been really tough.’

  She sighs. ‘It was. I knew Imogen didn’t love me. I don’t think she even liked me, really. She was only interested in her business and playing
golf. Maybe that’s why I wanted to believe so much that Theo loved me.’

  Theo. The guy who did that to her? The bastard?

  ‘I craved love and attention, I suppose. So I put up with things that weren’t right, because I didn’t really know what love was anymore. Does that make me sound pathetic and desperate?’

  ‘It makes you sound human. Deep down, we all want to be loved. Sometimes it’s easy to fool yourself that a relationship is right, even when it’s wrong. And it’s understandable you felt like that. You were trying to look for affection somewhere.’

  ‘But that was obviously my downfall. If I’d recognized him for what he was, it would never have happened.’ She shakes her head. Tears glisten in her eyes. ‘As soon as I was twenty-one, Imogen knew her obligations to me were over, and she retired to Spain to play golf.’

  ‘Did she leave you this shop, then?’

  ‘Kind of. While I was still at school, I had to work here at weekends to pay for my keep. Then when I left, I started here full time and learnt how to bake, using Mum’s recipes. Now, I have to give Imogen half of the profits.’

  ‘While you do all the work?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s Imogen all over. But still, I’m just grateful I wasn’t taken into care when Mum died. And I have a job that pays for the roof over my head.’

  It’s obvious she’s upset about it all, but she’s not bitter.

  ‘I just…wanted to tell you that, because I know how hard it is to lose someone.’ She looks at me as if she’s surprised at how much she’s revealed. A sad smile flicks across her face before disappearing again. She lifts her hand from the tea towel she’s clutching, and for a minute I think she’s going to touch my arm. Try to give me the same kind of comfort I want to give her. But her fingers hover in the air for a fleeting moment before they’re back on the tea towel.

  I nod my agreement. Suddenly I’m drowning in her green eyes and can’t think of anything to say because nothing seems good enough, and I’m not very good at small talk. Her gaze holds mine for a while, and I see understanding in those depths. I feel closer to her than anyone since Mia and I’ve only known her a few days. I fight back the uncontrollable impulse to run my fingertips down her cheek and touch her soft skin.