Ferragamo-clad feet and kneed him in the balls—put those self-defense classes to good use. Maybe he would think twice before threatening another innocent victim…if nothing else, his threats would be delivered several octaves higher, lessening their impact.”
Griffin’s chest rumbled as he chuckled. I looked up, confused by his mirth, when realization dawned.
“I said all of that out loud, didn’t I?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it tamed my desire to follow him to the parking lot and reiterate my message without words.”
“Violence is never the answer,” I said, not meaning it. Sometimes a good ass-whooping was exactly what the doctor ordered.
“That’s true. I wouldn’t want to do something like stomp on his foot and kick him in the balls. Such physical displays of anger are simply barbaric.”
“Ha, ha. You think you’re so funny.”
“No, you think I’m funny, and you happen to be right.” He kissed the top of my head while rubbing my back soothingly. “You okay?”
“Yes. It was an overload of competing emotions: shock, offense, sadness, anger…lots of anger. There were too many to process at once, and he just kept saying his name over and over. I know I will have to face worse at trial, face him , but I’ll be prepared—this was just a sneak attack.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I feel like I am always arriving too late where you are concerned,” Griffin confessed, as if anything that had occurred was his fault. Men! Why did they insist on ignoring things that were actually their responsibility (like putting down the damn toilet seat), but jumped to claim responsibility for something they had no control over?
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you…forget to pay your psychic cable bill? Is your reception fuzzy?” I asked, heavy on the sarcasm. “Don’t be stupid, you big lug, you showed up exactly when I needed you.”
He said nothing, not wanting to argue but clearly not conceding.
“I guess we know why so many of the witnesses have backed out of testifying at trial. The DA contacted Ev last week to reconfirm she and I were both still on board. I couldn’t understand why he would even ask—now I do. The Varbecks must have systematically bribed or scared the others.”
Griffin growled, causing me to laugh.
“Oh, yay!” I clapped my hands and bounced like a child, “Yogi is back.”
“I do not growl. But I guess I should be grateful that you went with a bear, the hippo was just…wrong.”
Despite my teasing, I was annoyed with myself for turning into a stuttering mess at the mere mention of his name. Before the attacks I would have had Mr. Westly Black walking out of here with his head bowed and tail between his legs. I had progressed enough that I could sling a scathing retort at a random stranger, but where he was concerned, I lost my confidence.
“I hate being this weak girl,” I said, giving voice to my troubled thoughts, “ I just want to be normal.”
“What is normal, Lo? Is that the goal—to blend in with everyone else?”
“I’m not sure. I want to be me, but sometimes I’m not sure who that is anymore. I don’t want to be a basket case, riddled with triggers and anxiety at the slightest provocation. I know I don’t like that girl.”
“You have the patience of a four-year-old on Christmas Eve. It’s been five and a half months. You’ve survived, healed physically, and are facing your fears daily. What the hell else do you expect? There is no magic pill, and if there was, it would be a temporary Band-Aid—not a true fix. Keep doing what you’ve been doing and you’ll get to where you want to be, even if you aren’t sure where that is yet.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Not easy, definitely not,” he said with conviction. “When walking through hell, most people try to hide…feeling fucking hurts, healing fucking hurts. That’s why so many people avoid
Griffin’s chest rumbled as he chuckled. I looked up, confused by his mirth, when realization dawned.
“I said all of that out loud, didn’t I?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it tamed my desire to follow him to the parking lot and reiterate my message without words.”
“Violence is never the answer,” I said, not meaning it. Sometimes a good ass-whooping was exactly what the doctor ordered.
“That’s true. I wouldn’t want to do something like stomp on his foot and kick him in the balls. Such physical displays of anger are simply barbaric.”
“Ha, ha. You think you’re so funny.”
“No, you think I’m funny, and you happen to be right.” He kissed the top of my head while rubbing my back soothingly. “You okay?”
“Yes. It was an overload of competing emotions: shock, offense, sadness, anger…lots of anger. There were too many to process at once, and he just kept saying his name over and over. I know I will have to face worse at trial, face him , but I’ll be prepared—this was just a sneak attack.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I feel like I am always arriving too late where you are concerned,” Griffin confessed, as if anything that had occurred was his fault. Men! Why did they insist on ignoring things that were actually their responsibility (like putting down the damn toilet seat), but jumped to claim responsibility for something they had no control over?
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you…forget to pay your psychic cable bill? Is your reception fuzzy?” I asked, heavy on the sarcasm. “Don’t be stupid, you big lug, you showed up exactly when I needed you.”
He said nothing, not wanting to argue but clearly not conceding.
“I guess we know why so many of the witnesses have backed out of testifying at trial. The DA contacted Ev last week to reconfirm she and I were both still on board. I couldn’t understand why he would even ask—now I do. The Varbecks must have systematically bribed or scared the others.”
Griffin growled, causing me to laugh.
“Oh, yay!” I clapped my hands and bounced like a child, “Yogi is back.”
“I do not growl. But I guess I should be grateful that you went with a bear, the hippo was just…wrong.”
Despite my teasing, I was annoyed with myself for turning into a stuttering mess at the mere mention of his name. Before the attacks I would have had Mr. Westly Black walking out of here with his head bowed and tail between his legs. I had progressed enough that I could sling a scathing retort at a random stranger, but where he was concerned, I lost my confidence.
“I hate being this weak girl,” I said, giving voice to my troubled thoughts, “ I just want to be normal.”
“What is normal, Lo? Is that the goal—to blend in with everyone else?”
“I’m not sure. I want to be me, but sometimes I’m not sure who that is anymore. I don’t want to be a basket case, riddled with triggers and anxiety at the slightest provocation. I know I don’t like that girl.”
“You have the patience of a four-year-old on Christmas Eve. It’s been five and a half months. You’ve survived, healed physically, and are facing your fears daily. What the hell else do you expect? There is no magic pill, and if there was, it would be a temporary Band-Aid—not a true fix. Keep doing what you’ve been doing and you’ll get to where you want to be, even if you aren’t sure where that is yet.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Not easy, definitely not,” he said with conviction. “When walking through hell, most people try to hide…feeling fucking hurts, healing fucking hurts. That’s why so many people avoid
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