Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
She swallows and looks toward the window. “Thanks.”
I realize the tip of my pen has put a hole in the paper attached to my clipboard and toss it aside on the desk behind me. “How do you feel about going back to that locker room with me? Stare the memory in the face and let it know it has no power of you anymore.”
“I…” She sits forward, appearing almost startled by the idea. “I mean, it’s the weekend. The school is locked.”
“If it takes away some of your pain, I’ll rip the walls down with my bare hands.”
She studies me long and hard. Then, “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 8
Ashley
The front door to the school is locked, as predicted.
Caleb calmly takes my hand and leads me around back to what I believe is the cafeteria door. He gently ushers me off to the side, before stepping back and kicking the door in with the ferocity of a beast.
My blood flashes hot, as if it has been set on fire. That peek at what lies beneath his firm yet collected therapist exterior is only the tip of the iceberg. Somehow, I know. He might be steady and have tremendous willpower, but there’s a lot more left undiscovered.
For now.
For now?
I shake myself as I enter the school through the broken door, Caleb offering me his hand once again. And I take it, though I really shouldn’t. Should I? This man told my husband in no uncertain terms that he’ll take me to bed, if and when I indicate that’s what I want. But maybe I’m a little brainwashed or old-fashioned, because I couldn’t help but lay in my bed last night and feel surprised at my actions on the couch yesterday.
Me, a married woman, took my underwear off in front of another man and touched myself, so thoroughly that I had my first orgasm. While he watched. Sweating.
He tucked me into bed last night.
Now, I’m holding his hand.
I’m…an adulteress. Aren’t I?
Whether Waylon is a good or bad husband, that fact remains.
I’m developing feelings for my therapist. For Caleb. Serious ones.
He’s caring, compassionate, genuine. Protective. Encouraging.
Though underneath his handsome exterior, he’s lustful. Rough.
And if I was a king, I’d sell my kingdom for one pump in that little thing.
Caleb looks back at me when I shiver. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Which way is the boys’ locker room?”
I gulp, memories assailing me. Flesh. White towels whipping. Hands everywhere. My own screaming. “That way,” I murmur, nodding at the dark hallway to our right.
“Are you ready?”
Two days ago, I would have said no, but with Caleb holding my hand, I’m steady. “Yes.”
We journey down the squeaky corridor, arriving at the entrance to the boys’ locker room. The door looks so small compared to the looming object in my memory. That observation gives me hope that the rest of the place won’t be so scary, either, but when Caleb pushes inside, leading the way, I follow him and…
The memories come rushing back.
There, in the corner, is where I was pushed, my skirt shoved up, my thighs groped in sweaty hands, the smell of sweat and grass choking off my air.
“How do you feel, angel?”
“It’s only harmless now because it’s empty,” I whisper.
He makes a sound of understanding. “Ashley?” He steps in front of me. “You can come in here and leave at will. No one is going to keep you here. You’re safe.”
I tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “I know.”
Something over my shoulder catches his attention, causing a corner of his mouth to tick up. He leaves me standing alone for the briefest of seconds—and a moment later, I feel something hard and wooden slip into my hand.
I look down to find I’m holding a bat.
“What am I going to do with this?”
He crosses his arms, observing me closely. “What do you want to do with it?”
“Bust up some lockers.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
I huff a laugh, that sense of freedom that was instilled yesterday increasing in size. Ballooning. “Are you serious?”
“You’re asking the man who just busted down the door?”
A laugh tumbles out of me. I’m laughing in the locker room that houses my darkest memories. I can’t believe it. Tears rush to my eyes and along with them, a surge of confidence finds me. Outrage. Strength. Might. I look around and allow myself to see the faces of those tormentors, some of whom I still cross paths with in town.
I whirl around without a second thought and bash the closest locker with the bat, leaving a dent the size of my forearm. I smash the metal one more time for good measure, leaving twin trenches behind, a lot like the scars that were left on my soul that day. Adrenaline snaps in my veins. Exhilaration races through me, no direction, just an implosion. I’m finally being given the chance to fight back. My anger is being validated.