Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection

by Dakota Willink

  I went back to the bedroom to throw on yoga pants and an oversized sweater. Derek and I barely had a chance to be together and already we were fighting. Whether it was his fault or mine, I didn’t really know. I only knew I didn’t want this. The path I was on was all too familiar. I’d already been down it. One fight would turn into another, then…

  Not wanting to go there—not wanting to believe for one second that Derek was anything like Ethan—I stalked from the bedroom and began to pace the living room. My emotions were going haywire and I needed to calm down. I wasn’t sure if I was sad, confused, or angry. Perhaps it was a little of all three.

  When Derek returned, I was sitting on the sofa sipping on a glass of ice water. He looked relieved that I hadn’t locked him out of the apartment. Without mincing words, he crossed the room in three long strides and he sat down next to me. Extending his large hand, he opened it to reveal a single teardrop rhinestone earring resting in his palm.

  “Recognize this?” he asked. I blinked and it took me a minute for the shape to familiarize itself in my memory.

  “It looks like the same earrings I wore on my wedding day. I lost one, but—”

  “It’s yours—as in, it’s the very same earring you lost,” he interrupted. “I found it on the ground after you walked away that day. I went inside to return it to you but saw you arguing with you husband just outside the reception doors. I figured it was better to just forget it and not get into the middle of whatever was going on.”

  I remembered that moment as clear as if it had happened yesterday. Instinctively, I began to rub the arm that Ethan had grabbed, unable to take my eyes off the earring. The sight of it was mindboggling. It brought back the inappropriate emotions I felt about Derek, another man, on what should have been the happiest day of my life. It made me feel very conflicted over why he had kept the earring for all this time. It was a possessive thing to do and something I ought to run from. Alarm bells should have been sounding yet… they weren’t for some reason. Instead of worrying about it, I focused on getting answers to the bigger question.

  “Okay, so that’s my earring. That doesn’t explain how you knew my real name.”

  “There was a sign just outside the door to the banquet hall. Your name, as well as your husbands, was on written on it,” he explained. “I didn’t know your last name was Valentini, but I did know your first name was Gianna.”

  I thought back and recalled the black, A-frame sign with Ethan and Gianna’s Wedding written in a gold, swirling font.

  “Walker is technically my last name. Valentini is my maiden name.” My words sounded robotic, almost foreign to my own ears as I tried to process what he was saying to me. “Why did you lie and not let me know you knew my real name this whole time?”

  “I prefer to think I omitted, not lied. Lying is what you did,” he countered.

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Isn’t it? I’ve been patient for months waiting for you to tell me your truth. I may have known one little detail but you have to fill in the blanks.”

  I took in his earnest expression. There was no malice in the way his eyes pleaded with me to open up—just patient understanding. Our time together thus far may have been short, but it felt like we’d known each other for decades. He wasn’t really the stranger I thought he was, but familiar to me in ways that were unexplainable.

  “I made up the name because I’m hiding from my abusive husband. I’m not divorced but still very much legally married.” He nodded his acceptance, almost as if he knew that all along. “Did you already know that too?”

  “That you’re married still? No, but I suspected abuse. When I saw you for the first time after you moved here, you introduced yourself as Val. I knew immediately that wasn’t your name. I almost called you out on it too, but there was something in your eyes that stopped me. You looked genuinely afraid—terrified actually. I’d seen that look all too many times from the women taking my defense classes. Combine that with your shorter and darker hair style, and I figured there was a reason for hiding your true identity. So, I let you keep your lie and told myself your story was none of my business. But then we got to know each other and…” He trailed off and ran a hand through his sandy waves, appearing to try to find the right words. “I wanted to say something so many times. At first, I kept quiet because I thought I’d spook you. I didn’t want you to run. I started to call you Sparky for the spark and energy you threw into your defense classes, but it was also because I didn’t want to get used to calling you by the wrong name. I don’t know if you noticed, but I rarely called you Val. Eventually, I came to realize it was about trust. You didn’t trust me with your truth and I had to earn it. When we went on our first official date, I knew I had to say something but how could I at that point?”

  “What do you mean? That seems like as good of a time as any.”

  “How could I say I knew the truth because of an earring I failed to return, then kept for years. That sounds crazy—like a stalker cherishing a memento,” he said with a light laugh. “That wasn’t the case, but I knew how it would look. So, I decided to wait for you to tell me. But when tonight happened…”

  He wasn’t wrong. As soon as I found out he’d kept my earring, my thoughts instantly went to something controlling and possessive.

  “So why did you keep the earring, Derek?”

  “I don’t know why I saved it for all this time. I’ve dated plenty of women over the years but none of them ever felt right. The only explanation I can think of for holding onto your earring is that it reminded me of our very first conversation. It probably sounds nuts, but whenever I looked at it, it reminded me to hold out for that one person I could one day cherish.” He paused, took my hand, and looked meaningfully at me. “I know we haven’t been together long, but things feel different with you. I can’t stop asking myself if you’re the person I was waiting for.”

  “Derek…”

  “Talk to me, Sparky. If we want to have any shot at a true relationship, I need to know what happened to you so we can move forward. I don’t want risk doing something that might trigger or hurt you in any way again.”

  “Damn it,” I cursed, knowing he had very valid reasons for wanting to know what happened. But what he didn’t understand was that I had to tell him. This wasn’t only about building trust between the two of us – it was more about me. If I truly wanted to move on from Ethan, I had to admit certain things to myself. My leader of my therapy group at Stone’s Hope told me it might help if I confided in someone I trusted.

  Did I trust Derek enough to share my story with him?

  I studied his features, memorizing every single line so I would be able to see how much my truth might forever scar him. I wasn’t sure if I could summon the strength to give it to him. Pulling my hand from his, I stood and began to pace the room. It was time to choose my path—either hide the scars that made up who I was or own them.

  “You’re right. I have to tell you. No—that’s wrong. I don’t have to tell you anything. But I do want to trust you with this. I just need you to know it was a complicated situation. I’m not weak. I only hesitated to tell you because I didn’t want you to see me as the victim. I’m not the victim, Derek. I got away. Changing my name just allowed me to survive. I’m still me.”

  “I know that.”

  “I know I can seem closed off—untrusting even. However, it’s not what it seems like. That’s just my way of making sure I can keep my independence and never lose myself to a man again.”

  He came over to me and placed his hands on my hips, effectively stopping me from pacing.

  “I know that too,” he said, reaching up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear. When his finger softly stroked the side of my cheek, I leaned into his touch. For some reason, it gave me the courage to continue on.

  “You see, for years, I had nothing to call my own. Ethan saw to that. Everything my husband ever gave me was meant as a way to control me,” I gravely explained.

&
nbsp; Derek stopped stroking my cheek and leaned back to look at me.

  “Have I ever done anything that made you feel like I was trying to control you?” he asked, his expression showing genuine concern.

  I shook my head.

  “No, you haven’t.”

  Seemingly satisfied that I was being truthful, he nodded.

  “Go on then,” he encouraged patiently.

  “Ethan was extremely controlling—and that’s putting it mildly,” I continued. “However, I was partly to blame because I easily gave in to him right from the beginning. He was mentally and physically abusive, but not at first. It was a gradual thing that became worse over time. About two years into our marriage, I found out he had a mistress. Not realizing what Ethan was truly capable of, I confronted him about the affair. We argued. One thing led to another…” I paused, not wanting to relive the details of the first time Ethan beat me and the subsequent miscarriage. “You want to talk about Sleeping with the Enemy? Well, I lived it.”

  “What exactly did he do?”

  I took a shaky breath, trying to gather enough courage to dispel my apprehension.

  “Derek, I’m sorry but I don’t think you know how hard this is for me to talk about.”

  “Just take it one step at a time,” he suggested.

  “And say what? That I stuck around for years and let him beat me? Do you want me to tell you about all the bruises and broken bones? How about the pain in my ankle that hurts every day because of a fracture that never healed properly? Or about how…” I stopped and swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to find the courage to continue. “The details about what he did to me that day are irrelevant now, as there were so many days like it that followed.”

  His face paled, and I could see disbelief begin to set in.

  “Christ, what the hell did he do to you?”

  “At some point over the years, I completely lost myself. It got to a point where I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror.” As much as I didn’t want to cry, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I hastily wiped it away, feeling annoyed over showing signs of weakness. Derek wrapped an arm around my shoulder and tried to pull me close. I shook my head and stepped away. I didn’t want to be held at that moment, as I found it easier to talk while I was pacing.

  “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to,” Derek said. His voice wavered uncharacteristically, almost like he was afraid to hear the rest.

  “No, I have to get this out. For me,” I told him. He nodded his head once, accepting my need to finish. For some reason, I was awash with humiliation. I knew I had nothing to be ashamed about yet I was unable to meet his eyes while I told the ending of my tale. “It wasn’t uncommon for Ethan to force himself on me.”

  “Are you saying he raped you? On multiple occasions?” His hand was clenched into a fist on his knee. If he wasn’t sitting down, I was fairly positive he would have punched something.

  “I didn’t constitute it as rape at the time. In my mind, he was my husband and I hadn’t actually said no. However, looking back on it now, I didn’t say no because I was too afraid to. After a beating, he’d feel bad about what he’d done. He’d say he wanted to make it up to me—to love me. I would cry the entire time but I never once said no.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Derek hissed. He ran his hands through his hair in a display of obvious frustration.

  “There’s more.”

  I paused, swallowed, and took a shaky breath.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  I didn’t even notice that I’d stopped pacing until I felt Derek’s hand on my cheek. Using his thumb, he brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

  “I want to kill that mother fucker for hurting you,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry, baby. You don’t have to finish if you don’t want to. I don’t need to know all the details—I only wanted to know what not to do so I didn’t mistakenly trigger a bad memory.”

  I looked up into his eyes, so full of patience and understanding. A weaker version of myself may have folded right then and there, seeking the solitude of my mind to protect myself from the rest of the world. However, I wasn’t that person anymore—I couldn’t afford to be that person anymore. Determination settled in my bones with a renewed confidence that turned my spine to steel.

  “Ethan wanted children. I knew it would be irresponsible to bring a child into that environment, plus I didn’t want anything that would tie myself to him for the rest of my life. I knew I was going to leave him by that point, I just didn’t know when. I was on birth control and he found out. He came at me. I tried to defend myself, but I was no match against him. He beat me and…” I paused, struggling to get the rest out. “He choked me and defiled me…from…from behind in the worst possible way.”

  Uttering those few words made me feel as if I was being ripped apart from the inside. The pain was tremendous, yet I felt a certain amount of relief through the hurt. It was as if the weight of the entire world had been removed from my shoulders.

  He took a step back and began to walk in tight circles. He raked his hands through his hair, patrolling like a wild animal locked in a cage. Shaking his head, he stopped pacing to look at me.

  “He anally raped you?”

  I winced at hearing him verbalize the brutality I tried so hard to keep buried. I wanted to lie—to deny what had happened, terrified Derek would look at me differently and wouldn’t want me anymore. I nodded reluctantly, knowing that no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t escape the vicious truth.

  “Yes. That’s why, when you pressed your weight down on my back, I lost it. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d have that kind of reaction.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I thought he would surely kill me that day, Derek. When he didn’t, I realized I had to act. I got in touch with a few friends—Natalia, Teddy, and Ben. They saved me. Without them, I never would have gotten out. I’m only here today because of them.”

  Derek pulled me close, and this time I welcomed his embrace. His touch seeped a little bit of warmth into my blood that seemed to be flowing arctic cold. He took my chin in his hand and turned my head back to look at him.

  “Do not blame yourself,” he said vehemently. “You’re not just another victim. You’re tougher than that. You’re a survivor.”

  “I’m trying to be,” I whispered. The truth was, baring my soul the way I just did left me feeling vulnerable in a way I’d never felt before.

  “You should talk to somebody—maybe a professional counselor about what happened to you. You can’t keep this all inside.”

  “I haven’t been. A couple of months ago I started attending group therapy sessions at Stone’s Hope. Listening to the other women made me realize I wasn’t alone. I’ve found strength through them. They are the reason I had the courage to give you my truth tonight.”

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead and held it there for a long while. Tightening his arms around me, I felt the deep rise and fall of his strong chest.

  “Do you trust me, Gianna?”

  I looked up at him, appreciating the sound of my true name coming from his lips for the first time. I inwardly smiled when I realized what that meant. No more Val and no more hiding. I could just be me.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because I want to show you something. Come with me.” Taking my hand, he led me to the bedroom. Once we were there, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began to scroll though it in search of something. I had no idea what he was looking for until music began to play. “If you’ll let me, I want to show you what it feels like to be touched by someone who truly cares for you.”

  “Derek, I—”

  He held up his hand to stop me.

  “No sex. I know you’re not ready for that yet. I won’t pretend to understand how you feel but I know your husband took something from you and now you’re afraid. I want to show you how to feel. So, I’ll ask you again. Do you trust me?”

&
nbsp; “I trust you.”

  23

  I turned on the faucet for the shower, adjusted the temp, and stripped out of the oversized t-shirt I’d slept in. As I was pulling it over my head, I paused to breath in the scent of it. The shirt smelled like Derek and it made me smile. Stepping into the shower, I let the water from the shower steam over me as I thought about last night.

  He had been so kind and gentle when he asked me to undress from the waist up. Asking me to sit on the edge of the bed, he had straddled my hips from behind so he could massage my back with a lavender oil he found in my bathroom. The lights had been turned off and the only lighting came from two candles that I kept in the house in case the power ever went out. He created a tranquil, relaxing mood and I love the feeling of falling asleep in his strong arms. At some point during the night, I had come to realize something. I was falling for Derek Mills.

  Recognizing that was shocking to say the least. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was in love with him. However, there was something strong there that I couldn’t deny—a magnetic pull that had always been present since the day we met. Over the past six months, that intensely charged current had only grown stronger.

  Knowing I needed to save hot water for Derek, I quickly washed and got out. I dried my body and wrapped my hair up in a separate towel on top of my head. The bathroom mirror was clouded with steam and I used my hand to wipe it away.

  Dropping the towel, I looked at my naked body in the mirror. I recalled a time when I would critique my reflection, judging all the flaws and imperfections, self-conscious about whether or not I was good enough for Ethan. Now when I looked at myself, I didn’t critique my body like I used to. When I looked at it now, all I saw were the faint scars in the most random places—battle wounds that would forever symbolize Ethan’s brutality. I wondered if Derek noticed any of them last night. Worry pricked at me. I was afraid he might judge me for staying with Ethan for so long—for allowing him to leave those scars in the first place. However, the way his hands had so reverently stroked my body last night said the complete opposite. He didn’t judge me at all but made me feel cherished.