Page 224 of Unexpected Heroine

LETTIE

Simone looks at me over the top of her wire-frame glasses, a pleasant smile decorating her face. “How are you doing today, Lettie?”

“Doing great, thanks.” I gesture two fingers toward my eyes. “Are those new glasses?”

“No. I like to give my eyes a break from the contact lenses every now and then.”

This is day three of therapy with Simone. And I think I’m ready to talk about what happened the other evening. I’ve been trying to process it on my own, but I’m not coming up with much by way of an explanation. It’s making me feel like I’m broken.

Well, fudge that noise.

I’m not a scratch-and-dent appliance. I won’t be broken.

She pulls out her notepad, flipping pages in search of something. “Let’s see. I wrote out some topics for today. Before we get to my list, did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Yeah, I do.” Immediately chickening out, I hedge, “If we have time. It’s not a big deal.”

It only feels big.

As that thought swirls, please applaud me for not following it up with that’s what she said. For once. I cannot and will not promise to ever pass up the opportunity again.

Simone glances up at me, then back down to the notepad. “Absolutely. Ah. Here it is.” She hovers her pen over the page. “What did you want to discuss? I’ll add it to my list.”

“Uh.” My cheeks warm, and my lungs empty in a rush. “How can I phrase this incredibly embarrassing topic so it doesn’t make my cheeks so flaming hot I self-combust?”

Simone’s gentle laughter eases my blushing.

I point at her page. “Can you put down sexual issues?” My thumbnail immediately goes into my mouth.

Gah. This lovely new habit can hit the bricks any day now. It won’t be missed one iota.

“Also nail biting.”

Nice. Something to make my cheeks less incendiary to balance out the session.

Nodding, she jots down my suggestions. When she’s done, she folds the page back and sets it on the coffee table between us, resting the pen atop it. “My items may need to wait until tomorrow. Your first one might take some time. Do you want to do it last or tackle it first?”

Considering I’m hoping to see Tomer tomorrow, I better bite the bullet in case it morphs into sexy time, which is entirely possible since I’m a horn dog. “Let’s do the sexual thing first.”

“Bold choice.” She winks, then settles back into her chair. “Before we begin, I need to set your expectations. This topic will be something we have to address at different levels for a long time to come. It’ll be a layered approach. Remember, the primary focus of our work at this stage is about making you comfortable in your own skin while helping you to feel safe in your everyday life. Right?”

I nod, having heard this speech before.

“With that in mind, I’m happy to get the dialog started if this is something you’re itching to talk about, which seems to be the case.” She inhales and rolls her shoulders back. “Now that I’ve got that out of the way, let’s get started. Did you have a specific question, or do you want to just talk in general terms about the processing of sexual trauma?”

“Yesterday, when we spoke about my father situation, it was helpful for me to just talk, and then you jumped in to guide the conversation. Perhaps we can try that again?”

She flips her wrist, flashing her open palm at me in an after you gesture. “The floor is yours.”

For the next ten minutes, she lets me ramble on about my sexual history, occasionally asking questions and making observations. Fortunately, she already knows much of what went on in the nightmare house from the accounts of the other girls she’s been working with.

“With that background in mind, here’s my current situation.” Pausing, I lick my lips and unclench my fists. “About two or three days after I got out, I started feeling uh... extremely aroused. To the point it was overwhelming.”

No judgment works its way across her features as she lowers her head in a subtle nod.

“While I was staying with Tomer, it was a point of contention initially. He didn’t want to do anything sexual with me those first few days. He thought it was too soon. And I tried to respect that, not wanting to force him or make him uncomfortable. Yet the need was all-consuming. Eventually, he gave in and sort of... took care of me, I suppose you could say.”

Simone crooks her head to the side. “Are you feeling guilty about it?”

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