Page 47 of Hope and Country

Her voice broke the silence just when I was about to fall asleep.

“I’ve been thinking. I don’t wanna be scared forever. There’s this lady. I looked her up earlier. She teaches a self-defense class to women who’ve been in abusive relationships. She does at-home lessons.” Devon turned to face me. “If you agree, maybe she could come here a few times. To help me out—I don’t know. It’s just a thought. You can think about it.”

I pushed her hair away from her face as if I could gaze into her eyes even if it was too dark in her room.

“I think it’s wonderful. I love this idea. Taylor too asked if he could come over and give you pointers. Call the woman tomorrow. See when she can get here, okay?”

“You won’t mind her coming here?”

All I desired at the moment was to kiss her and shut all the hesitant voices in her head. “Never. Devon, I’d do anything to help you get better. I love the idea of you getting better at your own pace. Without rushing. If that lady can come over, that’s even better. I’m glad you told me.”

Her lips skimmed my cheek, and I had to talk myself out of not kissing her back.

Devon’s soft voice shook away all my doubts. Soon I’d be in trouble. Because this woman, with everything she was, had a way to appeal to every part of me. To make me long for her. “Thank you.”

Hope dawned on me.

For a future together.

For opening my heart to the possibility of love.

Devon nestled between my arms, and holding on to her, I fell back asleep, knowing I’d never be able to let her walk away from my life, now that she had imprinted herself into the deepest parts of my heart.

19

DEVON

“Yes. Just like that. You gotta aim for the side of the face.” Phoebe, the self-defense trainer, moved closer to me and held my balled hand up. “Always keep your thumb on the outside of your fist. Or you’ll break it in a fight. And use those knuckles,” she said, pointing to my hand. “These are the strong ones. You gotta hit with them.”

I nodded.

Today’s session was more about form and learning the basics of self-defense. My body hadn’t healed completely, and my ribs were still sensitive. I couldn’t engage in too much of physical activity just yet.

A faint voice resonated in the distance. The sound powerful enough to kill any trace of angst lingering inside me. Today, Riley worked from his home office. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he was well aware of how uncomfortable having a stranger over made me. Even if that said stranger came here on my request within three days after I called her. And this wonderful man stayed at home to make sure I would go through my session without freaking out.

When we set up the laptop the other day, Riley showed me around the back section of the house. An extension he had built to host his office. Since I arrived, I hadn't explored around, not wanting to invade his house any more than I already did. The wide room, as big as my kitchen, living room, and entryway combined counted two windowed walls with a large wooden table in the middle. A mounted TV and a bookshelf occupied an entire corner. I had raised a brow when I noticed the relaxation corner, as Riley called it, where a yoga mat lay on the carpeted floor and candles on a shelf. Just like the rest of his house, it was clean. And spacious. And homey. But with a view of the vast backyard that made you feel like you lived outdoors.

"Sometimes, I just crave the calm. The quiet," he had said. "Because in my line of business, the noise and the late nights are mandatory." I enjoyed seeing that side of him. Riley was always so organized. And efficient. I loved witnessing a more laidback side of him.

Phoebe continued with her instructions. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to use the everyday objects you have at home, or even in your purse, as weapons when your strength or the techniques you’ve learned aren’t enough. You’d be surprised the damage you can cause with a ballpoint pen or how you can prevent your aggressor from hurting you with a hardcover book.”

The hour-long lesson had already done miracles for my self-confidence.

As if a door had opened inside me, showing me that I had options. That other women had gone through similar trauma and survived. And thrived now. Phoebe being one such woman.

I was done letting life—or others—decide what was good for me or how and when I needed them to take charge. All my life, since I could remember, I had trusted Robbie with my safety. I’d leaned on him when his dad hit my mother. And again, after our parents passed away.

But I was my own star. And I could shine on my own terms.

The days when I was reliant on other people were over.

And if Phoebe taught me something today, it was that I could do this on my own. I could be the resilient and self-sufficient woman that I aspired to be. In every aspect of my life.

And that no one could ever make me feel inferior or not good enough. That I could hit back. And fight. And win the battle.

Fifteen minutes after she left, Riley joined me as I prepared lunch.

“How was it?” he asked, picking a celery stick and chewing on it. “You looked happy.”