Page 22 of Brick’s Anchor

"Then you learn to live with the hurt. But you're not there yet. You're still in the middle of it. Give yourself time."

"Time to what?"

"To figure out who you are after what happened. To learn how to exist in your body again. To stop feeling dirty even though you're clean. To trust—" He stops himself. "Or not trust. Whatever you need."

I sit down on one of the chairs. My legs give out and I'm sitting before I consciously decided to do it. Brick moves to the chair across from me. Not next to me. Giving me space even now.

"I don't know who I am anymore," I admit. "I thought I did. I thought I was Rosie Lane, twenty-four, works at a flower shop, likes romantic comedies and bad reality TV, and has a family who loves her despite her terrible life choices. But that person… She wouldn't have survived what I just survived. That person would have broken. So, either I'm not who I thought I was, or I became someone different in that warehouse. And I don't know which option is worse."

"Maybe you're both," Brick says. "Maybe you're still Rosie Lane who likes romantic comedies. And maybe you're also Rosie Lane who survived a week of hell and came out angry and strong and ready to fight. People are complicated. What happened to you doesn't erase who you were. It just adds to who you are."

"That's very philosophical for a motorcycle club member."

"I read."

"What do you read?"

"Whatever I can get my hands on. Books about war, mostly. Trying to understand what I went through. Trying to make sense of violence."

"And does it work? The reading?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it just confirms that violence is part of who I am and I need to accept that instead of fighting it."

I look at this massive man covered in tattoos and scars, who breaks bones for a living, who gave me his cut and brought me outside to look at stars. "You're not what I expected either."

"What did you expect?"

"A monster."

"I am a monster. Just a controlled one."

"Monsters don't sit with traumatized women and talk about healing."

"Maybe they do. Maybe that's what makes them complicated instead of just evil."

We sit in silence. The night air is cool but not cold. The stars stay visible. Somewhere in the distance, a car drives past. Normal sounds from a normal world that's continuing without pause.

"Can I stay out here a while?" I ask.

"As long as you want."

"Will you stay?"

The question surprises us both. I don't know why I asked. Don't know why I want him to stay. Just know that sitting alone feels impossible right now and sitting with him feels manageable. Safe, even. Which is insane considering he's a man and I hate all men and I should want him as far away as possible.

"Yeah," he says. "I'll stay."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We sit together under the stars in the courtyard behind an MC clubhouse, and for the first time in a week, I don't feel like I'm drowning.

I just feel hurt.

And hurt, apparently, means healing is possible.

Chapter 7 - Brick