Page 91 of Notorious

“Damn,” I whisper. “I loved that.”

“Best fuck ever,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow. “Thanks for the compliment, but let’s be real. You can’t be serious.”

“I can.”

“I mean, it was for me, no question, but for you?—”

He cuts me off. “Precious, you have no idea what you mean to me. And between that and how gorgeous you are, it was the best. No question.”

That makes me feel warm inside and out, and the only thing I can do is kiss him some more.

Eventually we get out of bed and clean up … pretty much everything, since we’ve made quite a mess of ourselves and the sheets. But when we’re settled back in, he spoons me, his big arms around my body, and for the first time in my life, I think I know what it feels like to have a lover. Not some random person to get off with every once in a while, but a real lover.

CHAPTER 30

Johnny

I’m tired and raw.

I’m at therapy by myself. Kurt’s gone to his campaign headquarters, because I told him I didn’t need him here.

That was a mistake. I thought I was on a high from feeling so close to him. Feeling like I was understood.

But it’s all crashing down. Seems I’m not out of the woods yet. My brain ain’t all the way untangled.

The problems started when Christian asked, “When you went to visit your mom last weekend, did you tell her that you’d planned to kill yourself?”

A violin shrieks in my head.

I cough and look out the window, then decide I’m being a coward and face my therapist. “No.”

“Why is that?”

Because no matter how hard I try, I’m not good.

“I don’t want to talk about that with her. It’s dark. Bad.”

“So you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. And … I still feel fragile. I hate saying it that way. But I don’t feel totally right every day, all day.”

She smiles. “Not many of us do.”

We look at each other.

“Y’all want me to tell my mama, don’t you?”

“I think that she might have something to say about it. And sometimes the things we don’t want to hear are the most important ones.”

I nod. “Yeah, okay. I guess. But can you tell me what’s going on? Was it the rape that got me all fucked in the head? Or was it my childhood? Am I codependent, or depressed? What the fuck is going on, excuse my French.”

Christian studies me. “I’d say it’s all of that, although I wouldn’t use the term ‘fucked in the head.’ I think you have a history of needing to care for a parent and facing financial uncertainty, both during some formative years. You couldn’t control what was happening then, and in response, you’ve put all your energy into controlling the world around you. Give yourself credit for the big responsibilities you handled. Are handling, rather. Your mother is truly sick, has a chronic illness, and you’ve helped her immensely. But you went too far when you considered suicide as a solution. You’d spent most of your life doing the best you could under tough circumstances, but then after the assault, you got off track. That feeling of control was taken away. You couldn’t help your mother the way you wanted to, and your personal world, the privacy of your body and your sense of strength, wasn’t safe anymore. You also had some chemical imbalances, likely, with lower dopamine and serotonin levels. A few other things going on, too, I imagine.”

Just hearing her list out all those problems is overwhelming. “Can I ever be fixed?”

“In some ways, yes. With proper treatment and care, suicidal thoughts will lessen, depressive mood will improve, you can feel healthy more of the time. But mental health can fluctuate, just like physical health—and like physical health, after a serious illness, you need to monitor it even more closely. It can be steady for a while but then get off track, and we need to bring it back around.”

---