Page 69 of Gideon
“I’ll be right back,” I murmured, offering him a small smile as I walked away.
I closed the bathroom door behind me. Looking into the mirror at my own reflection for a long moment, just taking myself in.
“You are strong,” I told my reflection. I pulled my hair out of the braid I had plaited it into this morning.
“You are resilient.”
I pulled the dress over my head, disrobing slowly, my eyes still trained on my reflection.
“You are powerful.” Tears filled my eyes as I slipped my undergarments off.
“You are beautiful. And no one — not a single person — can own you,” I stated with a shuttered gasp through my tears.
It was a mantra I had spoken time and time again in my head, but had not yet done here in this home. For the first time in my life, I felt like those words were actually true. I didn’t have to convince myself they were facts.
I slipped into the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go, and letting the water slide over my skin soothingly. I scrubbed the shampoo through my hair, rinsing the suds away and trying my damnedest to not think about it anymore. I didn’t want to think about those weeks in the cabin ever again. But trauma didn’t work that way. Trauma snuck in and took hold of your entire soul whenever it damn well pleased. It never consulted you. It never stayed where you put it, shoved down way deep inside of yourself.
Trauma, in a word, was an asshole.
Images flashed through my mind unbidden, scrolling through my consciousness with not a care of how they made me feel. Images of the men who took me, the cabin, the woman in the flower dress, all of it flooded my memory like I was flipping through a series of photos. My heart beat wildly, hammering against my ribcage as I rested my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, trying to get a grip on myself.
I realized that more than anything; I was pissed. I was angry that the tears refused to stop falling. I hadn’t had a breakdown like this in years. I’m not sure I could even recall a time where I had felt so shattered. And I knew the reason why.
Gideon.
He had come into my life and torn down all the bullet-proof barricades I had erected over the years to protect myself. He had opened me up to something new, something unexpected. The possibility for love. Actual love. The kind where you know each other inside and out, but more importantly, you accept each other for all the dirty, unmentionable parts you possess. Not the pretty parts. Not the looks, or the good deeds. No, the ugly parts you keep tucked away, hidden from the world.
I stood there, almost clinging to the wall as tears streamed down my face. This was all too much. It was too difficult. I wanted to take that box of cash and items from Gideon and get the hell away from these people, away from this place, but I had meant every word I spoke to him. The plan they had was an honorable one. It was something I couldn’t ignore. As much as I wanted to run, to save myself, the thought of the poor girls they had stolen, and those they had yet to take, filled me with terror and agony. I could not,wouldnot, allow another child to be stolen. Not if I could do something to prevent it.
The shower door clicked beside me and Gideon stepped in.
“I couldn’t leave you alone. Not like this,” he stated quietly. There was no pity in his eyes, no judgment written on his face. Only acceptance. I turned, stepping into his embrace as the hot shower water beat down over both of us.
“You’re so strong,” he whispered against my temple, his lips tickling against my slicked back wet hair. His arms wrapped around my body, his hand running up and down the length of my back. His touch was like silk, the water making his movements smooth and soft.
“You have so much resilience,” he murmured against the shell of my ear. The words of my mantra being spoken back to me made me freeze.
“You are the most powerful woman I’ve ever met,” he spoke once more. He had heard me speak my mantra. I didn’t know quite how to process that. He pulled away from me, his hands on my shoulders as he gazed down into my eyes.
“No one can own you, Naomi. You are an incredible, beautiful, vivacious woman. You belong to no one but yourself. No man, no marriage vows, no wedding ring, and no sexual dynamic can ever change that.” His words nearly broke me apart. That was saying something, as I already felt shattered by everything that had happened.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, shaking my head. His hands cupped my face, held my gaze to his.
“I’m sorry I eavesdropped on your moment, but I’m not sorry I heard your words. They were beautiful. They were true. But you did miss one,” he said, his eyes searching mine, imploring me to believe his truth.
“How do you figure I missed one? It was the first time you heard it.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“You missed the most important one, Naomi. So, I want you to repeat after me, okay?” he asked, still holding my face in his hands. I nodded. “I am enough.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks, simultaneously breaking me and building me back up again, all in the same set of words. That was the thing about Gideon. For all the bickering and fighting we did, the man had not only seen the cracks and tears in my soul, but he set out to fix them.
“Gideon,” I whimpered, tears bubbling in my eyes anew. But these were not tears of pain or sorrow. These were tears of renewal and growth.
“You are enough,” he said again, slower, with much more conviction. His words took hold, filling in some of the gaps where my soul had ripped and torn over the years. My voice hiccuped with a soft sob.
“You, Naomi Temple, are enough,” his voice rang out with such passion. His hands pulled my face closer, leaning down to press his lips softly against my forehead. The gesture was so sweet, I could hardly breathe. My heart swelled with a feeling so similar to love, I wasn’t sure what to call it.
My head lifted, finding his lips and kissing him with all the feeling I possessed. I may not be able to fully name the emotion I felt for this man, but I could show him.
