Stripping Her Defenses (16 page)

I quickly found out, as I walked up to her, that, yes, she was on the phone talking to Big Jim. But, no, she was not panicking about her sometimes late period. Lisa was panicking because she’d arrived three minutes before me to find the studio wrecked.

Of course, wrecked was probably a nice way to put it.

She tried to stop me from going in, but after I heard the word ‘vandalized,’ there was not a person on this earth who could keep me out of my studio.

Pushing past her, I marched through the door and immediately stopped, almost wishing I had listened to Lisa about not going in.

My studio had not just been vandalized, it had been destroyed.

The couches in the waiting room had been slashed to death. My lighting kits had been mangled to the point that there was no hope of fixing them. My queen sized wrought iron headboard and footboard had been fucking melted. The mattress had been slashed similarly to the couches. Every camera I owned, which had been several, had been smashed to smithereens and were now nothing more than miniscule pieces scattered across my floor.

As if the destruction had not been bad enough, there were messages spray painted in red on every wall.

leave or die bitch

we’re watching

After a quick call to the cops to report the crime, I hung up and called the only person on this planet I wanted to come hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. Riley.

Too bad he didn’t show up before the cops or the Regulators.

Ice, Hammer, and Big Jim were actually the first to arrive since my studio was close to their clubhouse. Big Jim went straight to Lisa, trying to comfort her, while Ice took one look at my studio with the messages written on the walls and said something to Hammer about “lockin’ me down,” whatever that meant.

I didn’t get the chance to ask because then the cops showed up, turning a ‘disaster’ into a ‘fucking disaster.’ The two officers climbed out of the squad car, took one look at the guys in their Regulators’ cuts, and pulled their guns. It only got worse when Hammer turned to ask Ice if those “pussies in blue” were serious.

By this point, I was standing in front of Ice as he tried to tug me behind him without making any sudden movements. A gun was pointed at my chest while an officer told me to step out of the way and stop interfering, and that was when Riley, Declan, and the other guy I’d seen them with walked in. It was also where the situation went from ‘fucking disaster’ to ‘my life is totally fucked.’

The already tense situation went absolutely electric when Riley saw that pistol aimed at me. He didn’t seem too happy to see Ice’s hand on my arm, either. I could tell by the scathing look he shot Ice after he looked down at the hold. Thankfully, he had went straight to work dealing with the crazy ass cops instead of coming after Ice, who had finally managed to pull me behind him.

Lisa and I tried to tell the cops that the Regulators had nothing to do with my shop being vandalized. After about forty-five minutes, I saw Riley whip out his cell phone and make a phone call, which was weird since we were in the middle of a tense situation. As Riley hung up, Lisa was still trying to convince the cops that Big Jim was her boyfriend. Of course, they didn’t believe it, because they were convinced we’d been threatened somehow.

Not five minutes later, the officers’ radios squawked loudly that Unit 92 needed to call the station immediately. Apparently, we were dealing with Unit 92 because one of the officers peeled off to use his cell phone.

Ice still had a gun pointed at his chest as I watched the officer speak with someone. The officer’s face drained of all color, and he hastily walked back to his partner and whispered something in his ear. The partner’s face drained of all color, and then the man holstered his weapon and actually
apologized
to Ice.

Not understanding what had just happened, I scanned the room to look at the guys. Ice, Hammer, and Big Jim all had blank masks on their faces, as did Riley and the other guy I didn’t know. However, Declan had a small, amused smile that made me think he knew exactly what had occurred.

After all of this, the two officers went on as if they hadn’t pulled a gun on three badass bikers moments before and took both mine and Lisa’s statements. They walked the studio, noted all of the damage down on their report, took pictures, and wrapped up their visit by handing me their business card and asking me to call if I came across any information as to who might have done this.

Before they left, they advised me to stay safe by not staying alone. It took every iota of control not to snap back, “You think so, jackass?”

I couldn’t figure out what Riley had done to get those pain-in-the-ass cops to back off Ice, Hammer and Big Jim, and Riley wouldn’t give me a straight answer when I asked. My troubles had not ended there, though. No, Riley silently squared off with Ice, having some sort of caveman argument that only involved eye ticks and jaw grinding, before he asked me if I was ready to go home. Then he took my studio keys, handed them to Declan, and dragged me out of there.

Now we were back at my place, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or punch something. Maybe both since someone had just destroyed everything I’d worked so hard for.

Plopping down on my couch, I propped my elbows on my knees and laid my head in my hands. Riley was coming from the back; he’d been checking the apartment like he’d done the night before.

“You should have stayed by the door until I’d finished checking, babe.”

Tears were stinging my eyes, and I was trying not to let them free yet was quickly losing the battle.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I said, “Lecture me next time, okay? My day sucked, which is crazy because it’s only ten o’clock, and I just want to forget about it.”

I waited for him to say something, but he was quiet. That didn’t surprise me. Riley had always been a quiet kind of guy, and I was used to it. What did surprise me was that Riley took a seat next to me on the couch, pulled me into his arms, and laid us both back so I was sprawled across his chest.

Thinking he was trying to put the moves on me, I pushed up with my hands on his chest and glared at him. “You can’t fuck this all better, Riley.”

His hands came up and pulled me back down. He started petting my hair in slow, soothing motions. “I’m not trying to get in your panties, Kara. I’m giving you a safe place to let it all go. I see the tears in your eyes, babe. I’m here; nothing’s going to happen to you. Let it all out.”

Those words broke the dam on my emotions, and I did just what he’d told me to do. I let it all out. Tears poured from my eyes as I started hiccupping sobs. I poured it all out because Riley was right: I did feel safe in his arms.

I was not sure how long I cried. I only knew Riley lay there underneath me the entire time, not saying a word, just comforting me with his touch. I felt a piece of the heart I’d thought died years ago warm under his care. It made me realize something important.

I wasn’t certain I could live without Riley anymore.

However, I also wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t walk away after I told him everything, either.

This realization made me cry that much harder, so much so that I became sleepy. My eyes dried up to what I was positive was a red, puffy mess, and I finally lay there silently and numb.

Riley used his hands to guide my head, turning me in his direction. He looked me in the eye and said, “Take a nap, baby. I’ll fuck it all better later.”

With that, I laid my head back down and took a nap.

~~~

A delicious smell woke me. Sitting up on the couch, I rubbed my hands over my face before slipping off the couch and heading towards the kitchen. The sight that met me there was something I thought I’d never see again.

Riley was cooking. Such a simple thing. A task one did every day, multiple times a day, to feed themselves and those they loved. What people didn’t realize was that it could also be an intimate thing.

What said ‘I care’ more than someone cooking your favorite foods because they knew you had dealt with a bad day?

There my ex-husband stood, cooking chicken parmesan because he knew how much I loved it. My heart clenched at the sight. The more time I spent with Riley, the more I wished we could move on with our lives. Together.

He had to know everything before I could allow myself to hope for that, though. That wasn’t the only worry I had, either. Two people could spend years apart yet fall back into familiar patterns.

What if we fell back into the very things that had contributed to our downfall the first time? Part of me liked to think that wouldn’t happen, because I had a better understanding of my issues. With knowledge came power, the power to catch myself if I started to fall.

What about Riley choosing extra missions because he couldn’t deal with me? Would he do that sort of thing again? There was no way to know unless I gave him another chance, was there? That didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless that, if I gave us another chance, he would avoid our problems instead of helping me face them. I had managed to pull myself out of the black hole of my depression with therapy and medication. I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to do it a second time if it went wrong between the two of us again.

Riley looked over to where I stood at the end of the counter. “You woke up just in time, babe.” He piled some of the drained spaghetti on a plate, poured sauce over it, and then added a piece of the chicken parmesan. “Let’s get some food into you.”

He led me over to my small, two chair table where he placed my plate down in front of me before returning to the kitchen. When he came back, he had a plate of his own, but he didn’t sit down. No, he put his own plate down then walked back into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

A little surprised he was serving me dinner and breaking out alcohol already, I asked, “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

He shook his head. “We had a meeting and then we were free for the rest of the day. I have to report in at five in the morning, though.” He hesitated for a second then continued, “I’ll be out of touch for at least a day, but I’ll come straight here when I get back.”

He watched me for my reaction, and I realized he was waiting for the one I used to give him. Disappointment. He wasn’t going to see that from me now.

Sure, a part of me was disappointed he was going on some kind of mission again right after we had reconnected; however, I was a much more understanding individual now. This was his job, and whatever it was, he had to go from time to time. What mattered was that he came back to me as soon as he could and spent what time he had available with me.

Nodding, I responded with, “Sounds good.”

When his eyebrows rose in surprise at my response, I decided to change the subject. “How long did I sleep if it’s dinner time already?”

“It’s four o’clock, babe. I thought we could eat early and enjoy some time together before I had to leave in the morning.” He poured us both a glass of wine.

I smiled at his thoughtfulness. “That sounds nice. What do you want to do after dinner?”

I was expecting some raunchy joke about doing me, what I got was the complete opposite.

“Why don’t we talk for now? You could start with telling me whatever it is you think is the reason I’ll walk away from you.”

Dropping my fork onto my plate, I clenched my hands together and then rested my head on top of them, watching Riley intently while I did so. I should have known he wouldn’t bullshit around.

Dragging in a deep breath, I grabbed my wine glass and drained it. A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt. Setting the glass back down, I absently ran my finger around the rim as I began.

My psychiatrist, Dayona, was a good place to begin the journey of healing. I told him about Mom forcing me to finally see a psychiatrist six months after losing our son and when she didn’t see my depression improving, she worried I’d try something drastic like suicide.

I watched as Riley flinched when I said the word suicide, but I kept talking so he wouldn’t dwell on it. I explained how Dayona basically dissected my entire life and then brought some startling things to my attention. I had ‘daddy abandonment issues.’ Very cliché sounding, although the truth, nonetheless.

The fear of abandonment from the men in my life had led me to slowly develop ideals that were then warped over time. I developed a fixation that, if I made myself ‘perfect,’ Riley wouldn’t leave me as my father had. I ticked off on my fingers some examples: my appearance, my college degree choice, and trying to be the perfect little Navy wife even when it hurt me. I explained that there was a little known ‘perfectionism disorder’ that people such as myself suffered from when the mind became obsessed with those sorts of ideals to the point that it warped our rationality.

Riley flinched again, harder this time.

I reached across the table and covered the hand I could reach with my own. “None of that is your fault, Riley. You loved me despite my faults. It just took me some intense therapy with Dayona to figure that out.”

He shook his head. “I should have tried harder. Maybe—”

It was my turn to shake my head. “We could play the maybe game all day, but it wouldn’t change what happened.”

Riley brought the hand he’d had under the table to land on top of mine and squeezed gently. “You’re right: our maybes won’t change a damn thing. That doesn’t change the fact that I realized after you left that I should have stopped running from our problems instead of facing them. You’ll never know how sorry I am for that, baby. I’d do anything to go back and change my actions.”

Although I thought I’d cried myself out earlier, I felt the familiar prick of tears at the back of my eyes. I wanted to try to hang on a little bit longer, though, before I let them free. I needed all the strength I had to get through the rest of this.

“I’m not done yet, so hear me out.”

He nodded and let me continue.

“On top of my ‘perfectionism disorder,’ I had also been suffering from mild depression. This is where we talk about a huge part of our marriage that was my fault. I knew I had depression. I’d been prescribed medication for it around the time you left for
Bud/s
training.”