Page 27 of Nothing is Free

I have my grounding exercises that I use daily. Five steps. Five series of objectives to free me from my anxiety and help me to dissociate. It works as well as putting a band-aid on a wound and then sticking the same wounded hand in a mound of dirt and praying for it not to get infected.

Can I be real with you? If I can’t be honest with myself, then hell, I really am a lost cause. I’m afraid. This baby is coming whether I feel sane or not. How can I be a good mother when I can’t step out of the front door without it bringing me to my knees? I thought I would be back to myself again. I look at Mercy, even Faith, and wonder how they wake up in the morning without feeling the crippling effects of their own minds. I can’t even imagine what they go through on a daily basis to put one foot in front of the other, but there’s one similarity that they both share. Yes, they are sisters, duh. But it’s more than that. The common denominator here, is the people who hurt them, who caused the trauma, are dead. When they dream of their tormentors, it’s just a dream. For me, I dream with the possibility Damyn could make it my reality. He is still out there. . .I can feel it. . .after all this time. I know he’s coming for me. I wish I had more time. I wish I had more time to get my shit together.

“I heard your parents have had to give up their home in California. I think we should celebrate the demise of those assholes.” Mercy whoops in excitement. “When your men seek revenge, they seek revenge. Avion is out for blood. Can you blame him? I would do the same thing. To think that they thought they could take our Little Bean from us.” She shakes her head and purses her lips for good measure before she goes back to eating the lunch Trey had dutifully brought to her in her office.

“Our Little Bean, huh,” I tease, trying to have a normalconversation with my best friend without the big ass elephant in the room. I know I’m pregnant, and by now I would be on maternity leave from work, but I shouldn’t be sequestered inside our penthouse in pajamas and fuzzy slippers talking to my bestie via video. My clothing of choice these past few months. Ugh, what has become of me? Plus, talking about my parents is too triggering in my fragile state. Avion and Dez wanted to crush them for aiding Damyn. As far as I’m concerned, they are dead to me. The only silver lining about them going after my parents is that I can rest easy knowing I will never have to worry about them coming for me ever again. Best of all, Marie, the only person who cared about me in my dreadful childhood home, will never have to work another day in her life. Vic and Avion made sure she is living happily ever after back in California with a home of her own. For that, I am grateful.

She takes another bite of what looks like Korean rice noodles and my mouth waters. “Well yeah, you know this child belongs to me as well. We go through this life together. What’s mine is yours and vice versa.” She pauses, then her nose scrunches in horror. “Okay, that is not one hundred percent true. Lox would have you pulling your hair out and Vic would make me want to cut his tongue out. Damn mouthy Alpha that he is. So, our Alphas stay the same.”

I laugh then, because eww. . .no. I love Knight, Lox, Nate, and Trey, but no. “Now I’m not going to get the image out of my head. Vic is never going to tattoo you again if he knew you talk too much.”

“If I knew what, Cariña?” Vic asks as he flops down on the couch beside me. Mercy and I both go quiet, doing that jedi-thing we do where we have a full conversation without speaking. “If you knew I wanted a tattoo,” I say enthusiastically, saying the first thing that came to mind. We have talkedabout him tattooing me for a while now, so it’s not like he will question me further. I bounce up and down in excitement to play it up. I don’t miss Mercy’s eye roll as she gives me the, “you are full of shit look” followed by, “thank you for taking one of the team, bestie” smile. Yep, I’ve learned to pretend I’m happy for months now. Give me my Academy Award.

“Really?” Vic’s smiles are like sunshine, no matter how crappy things become, he smiles, and I instantly feel joy. “Finally, Baby. But I can’t do it until after the baby is born, though,” Vic says, mirroring my excitement. “I have so many ideas. I have drawn so many sketches, I have a notebook full. You only need to tell me when you’re ready and we can go to the studio and get it done.” He pauses then, and I already know he’s about to back track when Mercy clears her throat.

“On that note, I better get back to my lunch. I’ll stop by in a few days. I miss you, Free,” she says, leaving me when all I want is to keep talking to her. When we talk, I feel like the normal Freeya, the Freeya I was without trauma and nightmares.

“I miss you too. More than you know,” I reply, trying and failing to not sound disappointed. We say our final goodbyes and I reluctantly close the laptop and set it beside me.

“Freeya,” Vic says my name softly. My whole name. Yep, it’s real talk time. It’s my favorite time of the day when one of my mates pours their love into me, encouraging me and lifting me up with their hopeful positivity. I cherish them for it, but no matter how hard I try to let it soak in, it never sticks. Afterwards I find myself right back on the proverbial hamster wheel of my own anxiety.

“You’re right, we should go to your studio. When I am ready and after the baby comes, we are going to do just that. I promise.” I reach out and pull him close, he leans down andkisses my lips gently and I fight back the tears. How did I get so lucky?

“I’m proud of you, Cariña. Every day. You move forward every day. We see it, we see you.” He places another kiss on my lips and then my forehead before he goes to stand.

I look up from where I am sitting. “Work?” I ask, feeling adrift and lost in a sea of sadness. Suddenly these penthouse walls feel suffocating, and I want to crawl out of my own skin.

“Duty calls, Mi Amor. I wish I could stay with you today, but I have three appointments scheduled,” he says with a pout. “If you need anything, I will come running. Okay?” He bends and kisses my temple; he can’t help himself, and I love that he can’t keep those lips off me. I watch my beautiful, tattooed Alpha leave me.

I hear the door close with a resounding click. Then I stare out on the floor to ceiling windows of the living room and get lost in the sight. The sun is out, and Frankfort looks stunning. The sky is blue, and the leaves are changing slowly in the distance as summer turns to fall. I cradle my belly out of habit and protectiveness.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. We are going to be okay.” I give my belly a little pat and the baby kicks my hand in reply.

I laugh at the response. He heard me loud and clear; he approves of my affirmations.

Yeah, I’m having a boy. I had to swear the midwife to secrecy because I knew Omari was hounding the poor woman after my last appoint. It’s just another secret surprise I’ve been keeping from my mates. It’s my attempt at a do-over. Considering the last one didn’t go as planned, I’m crossing my fingers that this time the surprise will not be ruined.

An excerpt from Freeya’s journal

October 1

Thirty-six weeks. Holy moly, I’m not ready. The penthouse has exploded with baby clothes and baby items. My room has now become the nursery. Omari, Avion, Dez, and Vic all sleep in my room with me at night, so we might as well move the baby in with us too. Talking to Mercy and Faith’s baby sister, Grace, she told me it was the best decision she’s made. Five sets of hands at the ready when the baby needs feeding and changing is a godsend. She’s been a big help and visits me often with Mercy’s now nine mouth old nephew, Timothy.

It’s been a flurry of activity around the penthouse, and I am grateful for the distraction. My mates are the cutest, most annoying men in the world, but, hey, someone’s got to love them. Dez and Avion actually fought over who was constructing the baby’s crib. Vic wanted to graffiti a mural of the night sky on the walls, which I would have loved if all four of them didn’t argue about the color of the walls and the gender of the baby.

“What if our little girl doesn’t like it?” Omari asked, and of course I had to keep my face neutral or he would have read me like a book. Damn truemate connection won’t let me hide from him. I’ve had to be extra careful.

Of course, they all agreed to paint the room a cream color and use pictures as decorations. Vic pouted, and so did I. I’ve thrown my hands up in defeat too many times to count. I’ve decided to let them battle it out. I have bigger things to worry about. You know, like giving birth to a whole little person. So, yeah, my anxiety and fear have nothing to do with my ongoing trauma and everything to do with the due date fast approaching.

Now for the business side of things. It’s been five days since my last confession and things are looking up. Okay, seriously, all religious references aside, today I had a breakthrough. I haven’t had a nightmare in five days. My therapist is pleased with my progress. She actually talked to me instead of writing down every word I said out of concern for my mental state. Not going to lie. I had to pull myself out of a very dark place and it has taken me months to get here.

My biggest lesson. I’ve learned to give myself grace. There’s no expiration date on trauma. PTSD is my clinical diagnosis, and there is no cure. There will be good and bad days. But here’s the thing, every day gives me the opportunity to start anew, take it step by step, moment by moment, eventually I won’t need to keep a tally.

The biggest goal of all and my mic drop for today’s entry: I stepped out of the penthouse andout into the fresh air. Omari held my hand the entire time, praising me and enticing me with sexual promises, which I ignored, but appreciated the distraction for what it was. When my feet touched the ground, I did a little dance right there on the spot. I cried happy tears, and then Mercy bought me Chinese for lunch and Faith joined us in celebration.

I call that a win. Baby steps, but fuck, yeah, it felt good.

DEZ

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