Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(70)

Ginger pulled her hand free of mine and stood up. She headed directly toward the bar. I swallowed my objection as she pulled a bottle of vodka from the cabinet. She didn’t pour a drink. Instead, her hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle, strangling it.

Getting up, I walked over to her and gently pried her fingers from around the bottle. She turned, hugged me, and buried her face in my chest. I held her until she felt ready to talk again.

“Things got more than a little warped in my head because of that. I hated myself, because despite everything, I would still respond to his touch. I...I started to think I was as twisted as he was, at least on some level. How could I enjoy being with a man like him?”

She paused to take a breath. She looked up at me, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “It’s a strange thing to feel gross in your own skin, but that’s how I’ve felt for a long time. I tried, I tried to tell myself it was just biology, that my body was programmed to react to certain stimuli, but when you’re being told it’s more, that it’s about love and want…” She pulled away, turning her back to me. She again covered her face with her hands. “God, I feel like such an idiot saying these things out loud.”

I placed my hands on her shoulders to make her turn around. She tried to resist, but eventually gave in. I could tell from how she averted her eyes, and the stiffness of her body, that she was embarrassed by what she’d shared.

“You have no reason to feel like an idiot. You can talk to me anytime about anything. Okay?”

She gave me a reluctant nod. “I...I didn’t trust myself. And if I’m really honest, I still don’t a hundred percent. How could I after all of that? How could I know what was real and what was biology? I’m tainted, scarred, and far from desirable. At least that’s how I’ve been perceiving myself until you started making me feel things that I tried to bury deep.” She stopped and smiled. “That was kinda annoying of you.”

I returned her smile. “I do what I can.”

She looked over at the bottle then back at me. “This is all still scary for me. That night, I cried because I could tell the difference. But then the next day, the worry and self-doubt set in. Maybe I’d just imagined it, and I’d only done what I was conditioned to do. On top of that, I felt terrible about throwing myself at you—my self-loathing runs deep, Malcolm. I am my own worst enemy. Every time I think I’ve accepted something, I find a way to pick it apart and put myself back at square one.”

I reached down to stroke her cheek. Ginger closed her eyes as she leaned into my touch.

“You’re not back at square one, Ginger. The fact that you opened up to me about it, even though you were scared to do so, means you’re moving forward.”

She looked at me and smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so. And I’ll keep reminding you, should you forget.”

She looked around the room. “Can we go?”

“Um...sure. I’m getting tired anyway.”

“No. Not to bed, but go as in leave.”

“Sure. Where to?”

“Your place.”





Chapter 38


Calida





We didn’t speak during the car ride to his house. I kept expecting him to say something, to question why I wanted to leave, but he didn’t. When we arrived, he reached into the backseat to grab my bag.

“If I’d known I was having guests, I would have cleaned,” he commented as he led me into the house.

“It’s okay. Besides, I lived with your sister. The entire house was her closet and hamper.”

“I’m not that bad, but cleaning is one thing I do like to put off till the last minute.”

He flipped the switch in the hall, which flooded the dark house with light. I was expecting some sort of college frat house mess, but it wasn’t even close. A few dishes piled in the sink, what looked like a week’s worth of mail was scattered on the island, and a few items of clothing, mostly shirts and socks, on the floor and couch.

“You should be on the next episode of Hoarders.”

“You’re such a comedian.”

“I know. I should take my act on the road.”

“Right. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’m gonna take your bag upstairs.”

I watched as he walked away. Once he was out of sight, I headed into the kitchen. Pulling open the dishwasher, I discovered it was empty, so I proceeded to load the dishes.

All the feelings I had the first day I walked into this house were still there. It felt homey and had a warmth to it my own house lacked. I didn’t have that underlying anxious feeling when I was here compared to when I was home. I could never fully relax there. Even when faced with the expectations Mal had for his house and our relationship, I was more at ease here. Our relationship. I was in a relationship with Malcolm, one I wasn’t looking for a way out of now.

I rinsed my hands off once I finished loading the dishwasher realizing, Malcolm hadn’t come back yet. I picked up the few items of clothing and headed up the stairs in search of him. He sat on his bed, shirtless, head hanging down and resting in his hands.

“Are you okay?”

He seemed startled by my voice. “Yeah.” His eyes went to the clothes in my arms. “You cleaning up after me?”