Page 41 of In Their Hearts
I take a breath.
I can do this.
And then I let it spill out. I stop holding it all in.
Personalize my apartment.
Find a therapist.
Get my hair done.
Buy clothes that I enjoy.
Ask Star for a recommendation letter.
Take a trip.
Start dating.
The last item on the list makes my hand pause.
Date? Why does this keep coming up when I know I’m not ready?
My brain wrote start dating. My heart wanted to write the two men I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
When I’ve worked through my issues—when I’m stronger—I’ll tell them what they did for me. How they helped me get here, whether they meant to or not.
I stand and stretch, staring at the long list that already feels overwhelming. I check my phone. Still nothing.
I guess I won’t be getting a response. I thought Clay might text back. Maybe I wore out his protective streak? Maybe I was just a job to him?
Those thoughts hurt more than I expected.
This is why I need to move forward. I need to start living my life.
22
Jolee
I toss for the hundredth time. Sleep isn’t in my near future. My bed doesn’t feel like I remember it. I used to sleep so well. Now it just feels cold, and my mattress is like a rock. Unforgiving.
I’m not thinking about my list.
Nope.
Or them.
Which is a total lie.
Sigh.
Besides, there is nothing I can do right now that’s on that damn list. I should’ve added orgasms. Multiple orgasms. Those would calm my thoughts and let me drift off to sleep. It worked when I was with them.
The box under my bed is full of toys from Platinum Pleasures. All unopened. I didn’t know what to do with them since I wasn’t giving myself orgasms, and throwing them away felt wrong on so many levels. And could you imagine if someone went through the garbage? O.M.G. I’d die of complete mortification.
Grant and Clay wouldn’t hesitate to give me one or three. Maybe I could try one? What would it hurt? Screw it.
I climb out of bed and kneel, reaching for one of the boxes. The first one I touch, I grab and toss onto the bed. I don’t know the first thing about any of these, but I grab one that’s red—not too scary looking—and some lube. It’s my favorite color, so it seems less intimidating.
