When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1) (18 page)

He had seen me have one of my worst episodes in years and he didn’t run away. In fact, it seemed to make him care more. It was as if he suddenly felt the need to protect me.

Truthfully, I had made myself have so much control over my life for the last ten years that allowing him to do that, to take care of
me...it was healing. It forced me to let him in, to trust him. Not completely—not yet—but we were getting there.

Blake also appeared to have a newfound trust in me. I didn’t think that was possible, because he had been so open with me from the start, but those tiny walls in his heart began to come down and he was able to verbalize things with me.

It was slow, but we both began to tell each other stories about our childhoods: about our mothers; about growing up in a brothel, and in his case, in a brothel that doubled as a crack house. Though we were worlds apart, literally oceans between us, our childhoods had not been so different.

In America people live in this bubble where everyone is free and the depravity that exists in other, less fortunate countries does not happen here. At the very least, they don’t understand how common it is.

Blake’s mother had been in foster care herself; she ran away when she was just fourteen. She had been picked up by a pimp at a bus station who promised her roses and sunshine and happy endings, but who really just delivered her into a world of trafficking. It started out with just “his friends” and then built up into full-time prostitution. She had Blake when she was only sixteen.

Blake only knows her background so vividly because for a very brief time when his mom was seventeen, she was taken back into foster care. A social worker had been able to get her to open up, so all of her history was in her file, which was then shared with Blake when he ended up in foster care.

When she turned eighteen, though, since she still held custody of Blake, nobody stopped her from walking out the door with him. She had told them she was going to a halfway house for young mothers, but she walked right back into the arms of her pimp,
Blake in tow.

“Does it make you angry?” I asked him softly.

“Does what make me angry?” he asked me in confusion.

“That she took you with her. Do you wish she had just left you in foster care, that you could have been adopted?” I asked.

“It did. It’s one of the many reasons I was so angry when I was a kid, though I couldn’t really verbalize it then. Now, though...no, it doesn’t.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked down before asking my next question.

“Why did they do it? I ask myself all the time. Logically I know that maybe she really didn’t have any options in Kolkata. But the emotional side of me... I just don’t understand why our mothers put us through it.”

Blake sighed deeply. “I don’t know for sure, Asha. Nature? Something biological...primal? We were their children and they had to have us with them, in their minds. The fact that they were in such bad positions wasn’t really their fault. At least, I don’t think it was. My mother was a victim. I don’t know the entire background of your mom, but it sounds like she was too. I can’t blame her for being brainwashed and running back to that scum bag with me anymore than I could blame you for having flashbacks.”

I made a small smile before my eyes met his. “How did you become such a good guy?”

He chuckled softly. “Not on my own, to be honest.”

He reached over and stroked my hair and we sat in silence.

Later that evening I galloped down the stairs, my sweater dress flouncing from side to side as I went. I went into the kitchen to make a latte and found Blake sitting at the dining room table reading from his Kindle.

I leaned down and kissed his cheek before making my way into the kitchen.

As I went to walk past him to head back upstairs, he reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me into his lap.

I giggled and then leaned in for a kiss, which he reciprocated happily.

We sat there making out like love-struck teenagers when, all of a sudden, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“You should move in,” I said, then covered my mouth quickly, once I realized what I had said.

His head tilted to one side, then he pulled off his glasses and set them on the table.

“Do you really want me to?” he asked, searching my eyes.

I reached down to play with the buttons on the front of his shirt, then bit my bottom lip and nodded.

His eyes and expression went from worried and searching to elated.

“Well...okay then,” he said before picking me up and carrying me upstairs.

I squealed and giggled the whole way up before he kicked the door closed.

Chapter Twenty One

“Second base. That’s what it’s called, right? We made it to second base before we both couldn’t go on,” I told Katherine and Lily while sipping a latte.

Lily had started accompanying me to see Katherine every other week because of her specialization in human sexuality. She had recently come to the conclusion that she wanted to become a therapist and had already enrolled in an Master of Social Work program that was set to start that spring. Because of the closeness of our relationship, and her background, Katherine agreed to let her come bi-weekly so that we could chip away at what they called our “intimacy issues,” while also giving Lily some good practice.

The next step was to bring Blake once a month, but I wasn’t quite ready for that. We were totally happy in our bubble, “intimacy issues” and all. I wasn’t ready for that bubble to burst.

“So, you were able to do this after deciding to move in together?” Lily asked, taking notes on a legal pad.

I nodded, then glanced at Katherine to see if I could gauge what she was thinking.

“Okay. So, other than the issues you guys have in the bedroom, which we will get back to in a second, have you had any other episodes since your major episode a month ago?” Katherine asked, tearing off a piece of a bagel as she spoke.

I shook my head. “No. Not even anything close. I don’t get it, Katherine. Granted, I
had
avoided major issues, but I’d had anxiety in crowds and minor episodes all the time before. Why did it just stop?”

“Lily, I’m going to let you give us your thoughts before I give mine,” Katherine said before glancing in Lily’s direction.

Lily chewed on the end of her pen and stared off as if deep in thought.

“Has anything else changed in you and Blake’s relationship since then?” Lily finally asked.

I nodded and then took a sip before replying. “Yes. We tell each other more things in detail.”

“What things specifically, dear?” Katherine asked.

“Like, about our childhoods. We don’t just give the broad picture; we talk about specific memories and situations. It’s more in-depth.” I said.

“Really?” Katherine and Lily asked at the same time before looking at each other. Lily wrote down a few more notes.

“Okay. So, I think that your PTSD—” Lily started.

“My ‘episodes,’ please” I said, hating the clinical term for my condition.

“Right, your ‘episodes.’ Sorry. Your episodes have stopped because you are suddenly sharing very intimate details about your childhood and life with Blake. Details, I may add, you haven’t
shared with anyone else, us included. You aren’t sinking into flashbacks and memories because instead you are sharing those things out loud. Essentially, you are dealing with them,” Lily said proudly, looking to Katherine for confirmation.

Katherine nodded. “That’s exactly it. And as you do that, your trust in Blake is building. So, as your relationship and trust is progressing, your intimacy issues are resolving. And his too, apparently.”

“Didn’t you tell me that we would either heal each other or ruin one another?” I asked her.

Katherine nodded and then chewed for a second, internally debating her response. “I’ll be honest with you, dear. That’s still a major concern of mine.”

I looked at her confused and questioning, then glanced at Lily to find sadness in her eyes.

“What?” I asked them both.

Lily reached out and held my hand. “You are finding healing in each other. We both think that’s wonderful. We also both worry what would happen if you two were to break up...if it didn’t work out.”

“Why wouldn’t it work out?” I questioned.

Katherine grabbed my other hand. “We aren’t saying it won’t. Some relationships don’t though, and we just want to make sure this healing that you are experiencing is healing
you
, and not just you with Blake as the caveat.”

I slowly pulled my hands out of theirs as I leaned back in my chair, pondering their words.

“We aren’t...oh, what’s the word...? Codependent. That’s the one. We aren’t that. We spend a lot of time together, but we still have our own interests and things that we do. He doesn’t control
me; I don’t control him. We are just...happy. That’s all. Can a relationship not just be happy? Does there have to be more tragedy in our lives? I’m sorry, but I think Blake and I have had enough tragedy. We are ready for our happy ending now,” I said firmly.

A tear slid down Lily’s face, which she quickly brushed off. And damnit if Katherine didn’t look like she was about to join in.

What in the world?

“You love him,” Lily squeaked before another tear fell down her face.

I sat stiffly in my seat. “I don’t know. I care very deeply about Blake, and he me. We haven’t put a title on it yet.”

Katherine cleared her throat, apparently trying to compose herself. “Well, when you do, you let us know,” she said, winking.

Lily gasped as if she just had a thought. “Wait...what’s Blake going to do about his place?”

“Sell it,” I answered, a slight playful glee in my eyes. “If only we knew a buyer interested in our area...”

Lily bounced in her seat a little as she squealed. “I’m telling Tom! It’s done. Tell Blake to give me his realtor’s number so I can give it to ours. Done deal.”

I giggled. “I figured as much. Here you go,” I said sliding the number across the table to her.

She picked it up like it was precious metal and held it to her heart.

“So, anything planned for the rest of your day, dear?” Katherine asked, gathering her stuff to end our session.

I nodded, taking the final sip of my latte and slipping on my coat, which had been hanging on the back of my chair.

“Yeah. I’m meeting Amy and Dave tonight,” I said, while slipping my scarf over my head.

“His foster parents?” Lily asked while standing.

“Yeah. Really though...they’re his parents. I mean, biologically no, but at the end of the day...he is who he is because of them. He calls them mom and dad. Legal adoption or not...they’re his parents,” I said, grabbing my bag from the floor and making my way towards the door with them.

Katherine nodded. “I agree. Well, have fun. Call me if you need me, but otherwise I’ll see you next week.”

I hugged both of them and made my way to my car, Tweeting as I walked.

I shivered as I climbed in and started my car, Howie Day playing quietly through the speakers.

I smiled as I listened to the words of
Collide
and thought how appropriate it was and how much it made me miss my guy.

I decided to shoot him a text before heading home.

He responded almost immediately.

I hadn’t even said the song.

I put my car in reverse, ready to get on the road, when it dinged again.

I giggled.

I drove home in a few minutes and walked up the stairs towards
our
front door. My phone dinged right as I unlocked the door.