Bound by Affliction

by Ryan Michele

  Wetness pools in her eyes. She’s been through so damn much.

  “Put your boots on and we’re out.”

  Not allowing her to give into the tears, we move out the door, lock it, and head to my bike.

  Her body trembles and I push through, grabbing the helmet in my saddlebags and put it on her head. She’s quiet, eyes pleading with me. I debate on if I’m going too fast. Pushing her too much. But that damn gut tells me to go for it. She has to get out because tomorrow is therapy, and she’s not backing out of that. This has to be her test run, and what better way than to get on the back of a bike and ride.

  Throwing my leg over my bike, I balance the machine then hold my hand out to Leah. Those pleading eyes are a knife to the gut, the one I’ve been listening to. I give it back to her hoping she’ll take my lead.

  When moments pass and she doesn’t, I turn back to my bike and toss out the stand, disappointment curling me. There was nothing like our first ride, where she gripped me so tight, her tits pressed against my back, making my cock hard the entire time.

  I feel her before I see her as she surprises me, throwing her leg over the bike, her front coming to my back, arms coming around my body. The grin on my face can’t be blown off with dynamite. She may be trying to get rid of me in her mind, but her body has other ideas. Ones I miss.

  Revving up the engine, we take off not knowing what the next second will bring. Leah’s body is tense, arms ridged across my stomach. I reach over and rub her thigh, that twitches, which I let pass. The sun is shining, and it’s a beautiful Florida day. Only thing better would be to have my brothers next to me as we ride.

  The distance we cover is vast and when she finally relaxes into me, I know pushing her to ride was the right thing. The relief from it is astronomical. This plus the kiss, I feel we’re making progress, even if it’s baby steps.

  Once I park the bike, we remain motionless. Her still wrapped around me enjoying this moment. Her chest rises and falls against me as she releases me and gets off the bike. I follow as she takes off her helmet and looks up at me.

  “Thank you. I really needed that.”

  I pull her in close and plant my lips on hers. This time she gives in quickly, giving me back what she’s getting. With my hands cupping her face and hers on my arms, we stand in front of her apartment making out like teenagers. I don’t give a fuck.

  She stops and pulls back from me. “Thank you for that, too.” A smile graces her face, and it’s the first full one I’ve seen in weeks. Mimicking her, I wrap her in my arms and pull her to my body. She wraps around me like cling wrap, and I kiss the top of her head.

  Damn, if I had known a bike ride would help this damn much, I’d have done it earlier. It’s a start. A start at finding my Leah again.

  “What did you talk about?” I ask when we step into Leah’s place. On the ride back, we couldn’t talk, but I think she needed that time to process whatever it is that happened in that small, little room. I fully admit that I didn’t like her going into that office with the therapist by herself where I couldn’t protect her. But somehow, I hacked it waiting in the lobby, looking at all the stupid as hell magazines none of them saying anything.

  The hour felt excruciatingly long and when the door opened and Leah stepped out, only then was I able to calm. She didn’t talk much and I didn’t push, now I’m in it.

  She exhales deep tossing her bag to the floor then sitting down on the couch where I join her. Her hesitant eyes scream to close down, but once again, she surprises me. “We talked about why I was there. What happened and how I feel.”

  “Do you think it helped?”

  She pulls her sleeves down into her fists, gripping the material hard. It’s a habit she picked up when she came home. Leah does it out of nervousness, which means all the time, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t realize it.

  On a small shrug, she says, “Sucks going through it again.”

  But she talked about it and didn’t break. I hope she realizes that.

  “Yes, but did she help you?” I push a bit more.

  “No.” My gut clenches then drops to the floor. Fucking hell. But she doesn’t give me a chance to speak and continues. “But what did help was something she said to me.” Hope ignites once again in me. “She called me brave. When I was little, I saw a firefighter run into a building that had flames coming out of every crack they could. He raced in not thinking anything of it. My mom and I were at the store and happened to be walking back to the car when we saw it. But to me he was brave. He took the risk to go into that burning building and pull this little old man out, not concerned about his life one bit. That’s brave.”

  Her eyes tear up as she rips them away to stare at the wall. “I can’t be brave. I didn’t save anyone. I didn’t do any good deed to be brave. Nothing I did in my situation warrants bravery and it baffles me that she thinks that way.”

  “You are.” Her attention comes back to me. “Bravery is living through something so terrible and awful and coming out on the other side. Bravery is walking out of this door. Bravery is talking to someone you just met and laying it all on them.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re wrong. I’m a coward.”

  I grab her hand and hold it tight. “When it was time to leave today, did you flinch going to the door?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Right. You have hurdles to go over because that’s life, but each step is getting you closer to finding you again. That right there is bravery.”

  A tear slips down her cheek and I pull her into my body, her head resting on my chest. “The fight, Leah. That’s what you need to find again. The fight to reclaim your life. Those assholes already took too much from you, don’t let them take any more.”

  Her body shakes as she quietly sobs, but this time I feel it’s a release of everything and not wallowing in fear. It’s a start and it’s up to me to see her through.

  14

  Leah

  “Let me do those,” I say, lightly pushing Green out of the way from the sink with my hip.

  He chuckles, “Baby, you want to do dishes, go for it.”

  It’s not that I want to do dishes, it’s that I need to. Green has been wonderful, but he does everything and that needs to stop. Not that I don’t like it, but I need to be doing more around here.

  Therapy isn’t what I envisioned. I thought I’d be sitting in a sterile room, laying on a couch, and a woman dressed in all black, stylish glasses, with a clipboard would judge every single move I made. That she would critique me and be on my ass when I said something she didn’t agree with. Overall, I thought I’d hate it. Really hate it.

  Surprisingly, it’s not bad. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but I’m learning and that’s what matters. One major step, my therapist says, is taking control of my life in simple things like doing the dishes, folding the laundry or cleaning the house. She says once I do that, then we move on to bigger things.

  That means I’m standing here doing the dishes. It’s something so damn simple and before I did it all the time. But it makes me feel in control as weird as that sounds.

  I yank my sleeves up past my elbows and dip my hands into the sudsy water. It feels good on my hands as I wash all the grime away from the dishes leaving them clean, exactly what I want to be—clean.

  After finishing, I grab a towel and dry off my hands and arms, feeling accomplished. It’s not much, don’t get me wrong, but it’s something and I’ll take it. When I turn, Green is standing there with intense eyes. I follow his gaze and that’s when I notice what I did.

  My arms are exposed, revealing some small scars and some larger ones. I move to pull my shirt down, but he grabs my arm gently and pulls it to his lips. They fall on one of the scars, and he kisses it. Inside, my chest constricts as he continues to kiss my arm in every place they touched me. When he’s done with that hand and arm, he moves to the other.

  All the while silent cleansing tears fall from my eyes. He doesn’t see me as di
rty. If he did, he wouldn’t be kissing my skin. I watch in avid fascination as he takes his time relishing each scar and making my entire body tingle.

  He kisses the inside of my palm, holds it and gets inches away from me. “Scars mean you survived and, baby, you did. There’s no need to hide from me. I’ll kiss every part of your body if it makes you have that look in your eyes you have right now. Please don’t hide from me, baby.” His voice is down to a whisper. My heart beats rapidly, thumping in my ears. I grasp him behind the neck and pull his lips down to mine. He needs no more invitation and quickly kisses me back.

  We part and press our foreheads together. “Don’t hide from me,” he pleads.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Damn right you are. And I’ll kiss every single one of those all over you, over and over again until you realize for yourself how beautiful you are.”

  With everything going on, it kind of slipped my mind that Green and I were actually starting something. Or had started something. I’ve been too wrapped up in my pain to see it, but my eyes are opening wider and Green is a wonderful man.

  I’m not sure what I did to deserve him; who the hell am I kidding because I don’t, but I’m thankful. I’m thankful I’m alive, in his arms with him looking at me like I’m the best thing on the planet. Having that look directed at me is enough of a reason to keep pushing through. Not only for him, but for myself.

  “What the hell are you doin’?” Green asks, coming out of the bathroom while I sit on the floor, eyes closed, legs and arms in all different directions.

  “Yoga. It’s supposed to calm and soothe, but all I’ve got so far is a strained muscle.”

  He chuckles as I watch the woman on my laptop lay on her stomach and touch her head to her feet. Yeah, I’m not that limber. There’s going to be a hell of a lot more stretching before I’m doing anything like that.

  “Need me to rub it?”

  A blush creeps into my cheeks. For weeks, this man has been so patient with me, there is no way I’ll ever be able to repay him. Not that he’d take it anyway. I don’t answer and try the movement getting nowhere.

  “This is gonna be fun to watch,” he says, taking a seat on the couch, full attention on me.

  “You staring at me is not going to make me calm and soothe.”

  He grins that sexy side one that squints his eye. “And turning yourself into a tortured pretzel is going to do it?”

  No, it totally isn’t. My therapist, Anne, told me it would help me focus and gain control over my body. Me, I’m thinking I need kickboxing or something where I move to get my control back. But I’m trying it, there’s nothing that says I have to stick with it.

  “Yep.” I pop the ‘p’ on the end with emphasis even though I have no idea if it will.

  “Then keep at it.”

  He links his hands behind his head with his elbows sticking out on either side of his head. His legs are out and crossed at the ankle. Yes, he is settling in for the show.

  Each move I make, I feel his hot gaze. Insecurity sets in, and for a moment I think of giving up and saying to hell with it. That’s the moment I close my eyes and remember why I’m doing this. I remember Green kissing my scars and telling me I’m beautiful. It gives me the extra push to keep going.

  I’m relieved when the ‘session’ is over and lay on my back, looking up at the ceiling. That wasn’t bad, but my muscles are going to kick my ass later. Part of me just wants to give up and say screw it. The other part is telling me to keep at it. It’s like a war inside my head. One side wanting one thing while the other wants another.

  I feel him before I see him as he sits on the floor and takes my foot into his hand. Even with the sock covering it, his warmth penetrates through it as he begins to rub. A flit of panic comes in a rush, and I try to jerk my leg back and move to sit up.

  “Breathe, Leah. It’s me.” His calm eyes will my body to lay back down, but I can’t release the tension. “You’re just fine. I want you to keep your eyes on me so you remember who’s touching you.”

  Everything trembles, and I can hear my teeth clattering.

  We’ve laid in bed together wrapped up in each other’s arms. He’s kissed my scars telling me they were beautiful. Green has been with me every step of the way.

  This is Green.

  It’s not them.

  It’s not him.

  It’s Green.

  It’s Green.

  It’s Green.

  Looking down my body at him, he meets my gaze with a reassuring smile as he continues to rub the instep of my foot. My stomach flips and flops all over the place.

  “You know I did this in the hospital for you.” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts and on to him fully.

  “You did?”

  His smile is gorgeous and makes my heart constrict.

  “Yep. The doctors said you needed to keep the blood flow going in your legs and keep moving them or you’d have a hard time gettin’ back to walking.” He shakes his head like a memory is funny, making me very curious.

  “Tell me.”

  “There was this physical therapist guy who came in and started to touch you. Let’s just say he and I got to an understanding.”

  My inquiring mind needs to know. “How’s that?” His fingers dig into my foot and a moan escapes me.

  “You know the man I am, Leah,” he says pointedly. “No one touches you unless it’s necessary. Him touching you wasn’t necessary.”

  “From the sound of it, it was necessary.”

  He switches to the other foot, and I fight to keep my eyes open at the pleasure of having those muscles kneaded. “That’s why he taught me what to do.”

  “And they just let you do therapy on a woman who was unconscious.”

  He smirks. “Like I said, we had an understanding.”

  The calm feeling begins to wane when Green stops talking, and my eyes eagerly stay on him.

  This is Green.

  This is Green.

  This is Green.

  I chant this over and over in my head.

  “Baby,” he calls softly. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

  It’s taken me a while, but this time I really do believe it.

  15

  Green

  “Yeah, shit’s good here. Leah’s comin’ around. Taken’ it slow, but she smiles more so I think she’s makin’ progress.” Finally. Damn, these have been a rough few weeks, or months, I can’t remember, but now she’ll let me touch her and kiss her, which is progress. Not wearing long sleeves and pants, we’re working on.

  “Glad to hear it.” Cooper clears this throat. “When you comin’ back, Green?”

  The dreaded question, not because I don’t want to go back to Sumner, but because it’ll mean leaving Leah. That I’m not ready for, and getting her to pack up and leave with me, at this point, doesn’t feel like an option. And I really don’t think I can leave her. Fuck, I knew this was coming.

  I listen to the shower still going. “Don’t know, brother. There something that needs handled?”

  “Always.”

  Something inside me twists. Fuck, I’m going to have to go. “When do you need me?”

  There’s jostling around on the other end of the line that sounds like crackles. “Holdin’ my dad off for now. May be able to give ya another week, two if you’re really fuckin’ lucky, but brother, I need to tell ya, you need to get back here sooner rather than later. We got shit to do.”

  Rubbing my hand over my face, I heave out a deep breath. “Got it. How’s Bristyl?”

  “Pissed, but I’m fuckin’ it out of her. She’ll be fine.”

  I chuckle. “Right. Gotta go and talk to Leah. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Later.”

  “Later, brother.” I slide the phone off to disconnect and stare at the bathroom door. What in the fuck am I going to do? I don’t want to leave her, but I don’t know for sure that she won’t come with me either. We’re going to have to chat, and I fear the outc
ome. Fuck. If I could just tie her up and take her with me I would, but that would be cruel under her circumstances.

  One fucked up conversation, coming right up.

  “What’s wrong?” Leah asks, coming to the kitchen table where sandwiches are laid out for lunch, and she sits in the chair opposite of me.

  “That obvious, huh?”

  It still gets me how well Leah can read me. Even before all this shit, when we talked on the phone, she could pick up little details in my tone of voice and called me out on it. Damn, I loved it. No one in my life had been able to do that in the way she did or does. Another reason why this sucks.

  “Yeah, you’re doing that pinched brow thing where you look mean as hell.”

  With an eyebrow lift, “Really?” I ask.

  She digs into her sandwich, turkey and cheddar on wheat, nodding. “Yep. You did it a few times in the hospital and… before.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin then looks down at the table like she’s remembering. I fucking hate it when she remembers.

  “Must be pretty fuckin’ sexy if you remember it that closely.”

  Leah rolls her eyes and looks up to the ceiling, one of her quirks that I’ve missed so damn much. Too bad the reason I get it is because of this.

  Her pointed stare comes to me. “I remember everything, Green.” The words are loaded with so much meaning and while I’m glad she remembers before and what we had, I don’t want her to remember being hurt. But that’s just me. I’m a guy who doesn’t want someone he cares about hurt. Fucking sue me.

  “Right. Talked to Cooper today.”

  Her sandwich falls to the plate, eyes wide, and panic all over her. “What? Is Bristyl okay? What’s wrong?” The questions come out in one long stream and I realize I’m fucking this up.

  “She’s fine. Perfectly fine.”

  She visibly deflates in relief. “Good. Okay. What’s wrong?”

  “Gotta go back.”

  Jumping up, I move to Leah whose face just lost every bit of color, turning it white as a ghost. Her body leans into me.