I nodded, some of the unease melting away. He always did come right home, practically buzzing to spend time with me. How many NFL stars did that? How many celebrities did that? Especially when Rick could have anyone he wanted.
He was right. The cameras and the press were unforgiving. He just wanted me to have on my best armor.
“You’re just not used to being loved as intensely as I love you,” he said. “Soon, you won’t question my intentions when I tell you to do something. It’s always in your best interest.”
I leaned into his touch, silently conveying my understanding. I’d never been loved by a man like Rick. His love for me was—constant, intense, attentive. I shouldn’t question it, and maybe it was my lack of experience with actual love that made me do so.
“Now,” Rick continued. “What did we learn tonight?”
“Teagan,” Roman said, his voice soothing, patient, as I withdrew from myself.
“Sorry.” I blinked out of the memory. “You’re right,” I said, hoisting myself out of the chair. “I need new clothes.”
Needed clothes that reminded me who I was—a woman with values and self-worth. Hopefully, somewhere in there.
“That’s my girl,” he said, sticking out his palm.
I high-fived him and disappeared into his room to get my shoes, unable to fully shake off the memory.
Three weeks and the flashbacks continued to pop up like bursts of oily bubbles in a clearer setting. God, it was like looking at them through a different vantage point. Who I’d been, what I’d let him grind me into…
Stop, stop, stop.
I paused before Roman, who held the door open for me, and stared into his dark eyes. My best friend had gone above and beyond these past weeks. Had listened when I managed to speak, had distracted me when I all but disappeared inside my head, and now? Now he was giving me the nudge I needed to take the next step in recovering my sense of identity.
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” I said. “You know that, right?”
Roman visibly swallowed. “You’ll never have to,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Yes, I knew that. Knew that Roman had loved me unconditionally since we were in grade school. I knew his actions were out of a good, wholesome place—not because he was seeking something from me.
And after all he’d done, all he continued to do, I still hadn’t been able to fully open up to him about everything.
About the extent of scars he couldn’t see.
“I am sorry,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. “About how long it’s taking me to talk about it.”
Roman shook his head as he laced his fingers through mine. “Don’t be, T,” he said, tugging me out the door and opening the passenger side of his car for me. “We’ll take it one piece of pain at a time,” he said, shutting the door before he rounded the car. “That’s all you can do,” he said once he was behind the wheel.
“One piece of pain at a time,” I repeated his words.
That simplified things. Instead of taking on the ocean of issues I’d yet to deal with, I could pluck drops from the waves and examine them one at a time. Whenever I was ready.
“Now, the really important question,” he said as he backed out of his long driveaway.
My chest tightened, but I nodded, knowing I owed him any ounce of truth he asked of me, despite how ugly it may be.
A half-smile tugged at Roman’s full lips as he drove us through the gate and it slowly swung shut once we’d exited. He spared me a glance. “Shoes first, clothes, or food?”
I blew out a tight breath, a laugh flying from my lips.
“Clothes, shoes, and then food,” I said, unable to contain my smile. A real one, for once. Not one practiced for the cameras, not one to hide the fear from Rick’s prying eyes. A free, totally genuine smile. It almost felt foreign, but the man sitting next to me? My best friend, my constant throughout the years? He felt a hell of a lot like home, and I clung to that to bury the fear prickling the edges of my soul as we drove into the real world…the one I had yet to face since my breaking point.
“How’s it coming?” Roman asked from outside the dressing room.
I stared at myself in the full-length mirror, my head tilted as I looked at my reflection.
The jeans I’d plucked from the rack hugged my curves and tightened around the ankles, making my legs look longer than they actually were. I smoothed my hand over my stomach, and for the first time in months, I didn’t cringe at the softness there. Hell, I was thinner than I’d been in high school, but I still had thighs and an ass that would never quit, and a cup size that made it nearly impossible to find a proper bra. But the flowing red T-shirt I’d picked out flared around my hips and hugged the girls in a classy, casual way.
Comfortable, cozy, me.
This was me when not forced into cocktail dresses or black leggings with black tunic-tops or black, black, black.
I’d used to enjoy the dark color. Used to like pairing it with a pop of color on my eyes.
Now, I hated it.
I longed for color, for life, for anything that would remind me I used to love my body.
“Yellow makes your skin look sickly.”
“Blue only magnifies those love handles you have.”
“Black is sexy. Sleek. Black makes you look mysterious.”
I clenched my eyes shut.
Stop, stop, stop.
I did my best to shove Rick’s voice out of my head, hating that it had proved harder than the act of leaving him, which was a feat in itself.
I thought of all the dead roses Roman or I had thrown out over the last few weeks. The constant texts and calls or extravagant gifts. All of which I ignored. I would speak to him when I remembered who I was.
I just didn’t know how long that would take.
“Good,” I finally answered Roman. “I think,” I added, uncertainty twisting my insides. I swung open the door, my eyes drawn down as I waited for Roman’s appraisal. “What do you think?” I asked when he hadn’t said anything.
“You look beautiful in anything, T,” he said, and I drew my gaze up to his. He looked giant standing in the small hallway of the dressing room, his Raptors T-shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest. His jeans hugging his massive thighs. And his eyes? God, those dark depths were churning with something as they trailed the length of my body.
That familiar sizzling rushed beneath my skin as if I could feel that gaze like a brand.
I cleared my throat, trying like hell to shake it off. This was Roman. My absolute best friend. The man had seen me in every stage of life for God’s sake. I couldn’t possibly be…
Nope. Not going there.
I’d always appreciated Roman’s appearance—ever since we were pre-teens and we’d snuck out after dark to go swimming in the public pool a couple of blocks away from our joined houses. I could find him attractive without going all…sizzly, right?
Besides, my emotions were all over the place, and the last thing I needed to do was give in to my body’s demanding needs and do something I’d regret later. Like ruin a life-long friendship simply because it had been over a year since I’d had a proper orgasm that wasn’t delivered by my own hand.
Red flushed my cheeks, and Roman arched a brow at me. “Do you like it?”