Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
A/N: You guys are amazing, and I'm blown away by the reception to the last chapter. Readership and comment stats are reaching new heights. Specifically to my reviewers I can't reply to, especially JB, thank you. You are so encouraging and thoughtful. I LOVED seeing everyone's guessing to who or what is in the kitchen.
A reminder I may not be able to post much for the rest of the week (real-life plans), but that I did promise a bonus chapter when we reach 500 reviews!
Thank you again for the wonderful misty23y for her work as my beta!
Chapter 29
Date/Time Stamp: Tuesday, September 18th, 1215-1630
Stephanie POV
The person before me matches me in height, but that's where the similarities end. His close-cut hair, dark, glittering eyes, and tattoos adorning a compact, muscular physique more than compensates for his shorter stature.
"Estefania," he says in a low tone, not taking his eyes off me.
"Hector?" I question, still working to control my automatic increase in heart rate and breathing. I need to work on not being jumpy. "What are you doing here?"
"I am here to find that out from you," he says in a thick accent. Hector and I have an unlikely friendship, and we frequently partner together. In that time, I've been teaching him English, and he's been teaching me Spanish. Hector is the better student.
He looks me up and down, not attempting to be discrete. I can feel Carlos in the doorway behind me, and I wonder if he knew Hector was going to be here. I suspect he didn't. Hector will be paying for this on the mats later, but he is the only one outside of the Core Team who can hold his own against Carlos.
Hector looks beyond me to Carlos and says, "I stay." It isn't a question. He pushes a laptop and phone across the island to me. "For you," he directs at me.
I hadn't noticed the equipment before, and I step forward to pick it up. "Gracias," I say softly, and I turn to walk to the bedroom. I set the laptop down on my bed and flop back spread eagle.
I'm again surprised by the compassion, protectiveness, and loyalty shown me not only by Carlos but by his men. I need to reassess who my friends are and who is just using me under the pretense of friendship. I twist my head to glance at the clock and see it's a little after twelve. I sit up, grab the laptop and settle on the chaise lounge on the private master patio area. I smile to myself, resolved. It's time to write my letter of intentions.
Ranger POV
I'm walking back from the master bedroom when I hear Steph give a small cry of alarm. I silently quicken my step, withdrawing my weapon. What the hell is Hector doing in my kitchen? His overstep will have consequences. I return my gun to the small of my back, looming large in the doorway behind Stephanie, my most menacing face in place. To his credit, Hector doesn't flinch. He's the only one outside of the Core Team who isn't afraid of me.
I listen to the short exchange between Steph and himself, and it occurs to me I underestimated their friendship and his loyalty to her. Steph steps out of the room without acknowledging me, and I give a sharp nod of my head indicating the direction of the hallway. Lester leads.
I settle behind my desk, Hector seated in front of me, and Lester leans against the closed door. "Report," I order, my steely tone matching my demeanor.
Hector maintains a similar posture and tone, responding in Spanish, "You said you needed a laptop and phone for Estefania."
"How did you get in here?" I demand.
Hector dares to look at me like I'm stupid. "I installed the security system and monitor all your electronics and trackers. It was easy. You either trust me, or we are both fucked," he responds evenly, again in Spanish.
I consider throwing him out, but Hector is right. He might be a crazy mother fucker, but he's my crazy mother fucker, and I could use his help eliminating Morelli. "Mats, five days, date and time of my choosing. If you ever pull anything like this again, I will fire you." I threaten, and even Hector looks momentarily relieved. "Dismissed."
After he leaves, Lester drapes himself in the chair Hector vacated, laughing. "You should have seen your face! It isn't often anyone gets the jump on you, and damn it if Hector didn't!" he chokes out.
"You'll join him on the mats," I say evenly. "He also got past you."
"Worth it," Lester says, shaking his head and leaving.
I lean back in my chair and smile slightly before going on a quest in search of my Babe. I spy her through the master bedroom's French doors working intently on her new computer. I return to the kitchen to assemble lunch before joining her. Steph doesn't seem to notice me at first, but then she pauses to rub a hand behind her neck before looking up with a huge smile. "Carlos," she says with delight, and I lean down to kiss her. "Mmm… the salad looks great," and she sets aside the computer to join me over the strawberry chicken poppy seed salad left by Clara.
"Did you know Hector was coming?" she questions between bites. I shake my head no. She smiles and says, "Don't be too hard on him, please. I didn't realize until now how your men aren't just excellent Rangemen, but how they are also my true friends. Hector more than most."
I wonder again at the history between them, but don't press for details now. I look pointedly at the computer, changing the topic. "What are you working on, Babe?"
"My letter of intention for Dr. Anderson," she says. "When I saw Hector, I had an epiphany. I would like you to join me for my session today." Steph smiles at me again, and I see her light burning bright in her eyes.
I meet her gaze, nodding in acknowledgment. "I'm proud of you, Babe. I love you," I say, a smile playing on my lips.
"I love you, too. Now scoot so I can finish this. Come to get me ten minutes before we are to leave," Steph requests.
I stand, pull her up into my arms, and kiss her hard, one hand tangled in her curls, the other on the small of her back. Dios, that woman burns inside me. I break the kiss as quickly as it began, gather our dishes, and take my leave, saying "Babe."
Stephanie POV
Carlos and I settle down on the small sofa in Dr. Anderson's office, and while I feel more comfortable today than yesterday, but I'm still nervous. Opening up to someone else is a new concept in my life, and it's scary being this vulnerable.
Dr. Anderson asks me how the past day has been. I'm honest about how I feel fearful and jumpy, whether it be my dreams, unexpected company, or spending time alone at the mall. "I know it's silly," I say. "I spend most of my time in the company of the world's best bodyguards. I'm logically aware I'm safe. Fundamentally, however, I can't shake this feeling of underlying fear." Carlos squeezes my fingers reassuringly. I turn my head to him, "Please don't take this personally," I say to him.
"Never, Babe. I understand," he replies.
"Did you have time to work on a Statement of Intentions, Stephanie? It's completely fine if you haven't," Dr. Anderson gently questions. I nod my head yes in response. "Great," she compliments. "Would you please read it aloud when ready?"
I take a deep breath and pull the laptop out of sleep mode. I clutch the keyboard with both hands and nervously begin,
"I am coming to therapy after months of experiencing flashbacks and nightmares, finding myself having to work harder to hold back my feelings as a result, and gradually feeling worse about myself the longer this goes on. I don't feel safe anywhere I go, and I'm always on the alert for trouble. I'm exhausted.
"While I had a dangerous job, by focusing in on the themes of the flashbacks and nightmares, triggered by recently learning new details of traumatic events, I realize the sexual violence I experienced by my boyfriend, Joe Morelli, and the reinforced victimization and verbal abuse by my mother are the more significant threat to my well-being.
"In the Burg, I feel as though I am the constant center of attention, and the purpose of my life is to provide entertainment for others. I am the non-conformist who refused to fall into the mold of housewife and mother. My punishment is mockery and ridicule. The way the Burg accomplishes this is insidious, and with distance, I realize most of my friends aren't my friends but only exist in my life to reinforce this negative cycle.
"I've come to blame myself for the abuse. I dislike being in my skin because it crawls with the memories of past traumatic events. I feel as though when bad things do happen to people around me, it is my fault because I'm not who they want me to be. As a result, I tend to hide from or walk away from my problems, using denial as a coping mechanism, and I'm quick to decline help on the basis it takes away from my independence.
"I've also found I have the true friendship and loyalty of a group of men who are the Burg antithesis, and they always have my back. I've fallen in love with Carlos, and his presence in my life is challenging the basis for my feelings and thought patterns. I want to use therapy to break down my old ways of thinking and rebuild myself as a stronger, smarter person who can protect herself against negative influences and thoughts while being open to love and to be loved. Growing up I wanted to be Wonder Woman. Today, I choose to embrace my inner Wonder Woman. I want to fly."
I slowly close the laptop and set it beside me, clasping my hands on my lap. I'm looking down, attempting to calm the swirl of mixed emotions. I feel Carlos shift beside me, and when I look up, I see he has turned towards me. His face open with love and concern for me. I change my gaze from him to Dr. Anderson and see professional compassion and kindness. No judgment. I move closer on the couch to Carlos, and he places his arm around my shoulders, lightly kissing the top of my head.
"Stephanie," Dr. Anderson begins. "Your statement of intentions is well-written, and you've shown wonderful introspection. You should be proud. I want you to know everything you have described, the feelings you have, are not unusual in your situation, and there is hope." She pauses, shifting some documents on her laps.
"I'm going to discuss your diagnosis now. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, is recognized as having four major symptoms, which one experiences individually. In no particular order, the first is re-experiencing symptoms where the event is re-lived, such as nightmares or flashbacks, often caused by triggers. Second is avoidance, whether by physically avoiding a situation that could trigger memories of the event or deliberately avoiding talking or thinking about it. Next is adverse changes in beliefs and feelings. These changes could include your beliefs about your relationships with others, forgetting or being unable to talk about the traumatic events or even having a negative view of the world in general and being unable to trust others. Last is hyperarousal, where you may feel especially alert, jittery or irritable, or perhaps having a hard time sleeping or concentrating.
"These symptoms usually develop within two weeks of the traumatic event and typically last several months before diagnosis. From my conversations and observations with you, I find you meet all of the criteria for this diagnosis." Dr. Anderson pauses purposefully, letting me mentally absorb and catch up with her.
"But why me? Why now? Some of this has been with me since I was six years old! I haven't been feeling like this for decades on end," I say, trying to wrap my head around it all. I've moved forward to the end of my seat, and I realize I'm tense. I try to relax my shoulders, but I continue to stare intently at Dr. Anderson, my hands clasped in my lap.
"The brain is a fantastic, flexible and changeable muscle. Your brain adapted to the trauma each time to enable you to survive. It is likely there was a trigger three months ago that threw off the delicate coping balance you had; in turn, triggering your body's amygdala, or primitive center of the brain that controls your flight, fight or freeze response, to go into overdrive. You've been doing your very best to override that influx of hormones into your system. Your most recent sexual assault has reinforced this negative cycle and increased your symptoms.
"This is an unfortunately common occurrence. More than 90% of women will experience PTSD symptoms following a rape, and repeated experiences, additional stressful events and lack of good social support, such as family, can increase the likelihood of developing PTSD.
"It's also important to note that you aren't the same person you were at six, sixteen or even twenty-six. As you mature and gain more life experiences, the way you perceive yourself and those experiences can also change," Dr. Anderson takes another break. Carlos moves beside me to match my position on the couch, and I lean against him, grateful for the physical reminder I'm not alone.
"The good news is that several evidence-based treatments have worked for thousands of people. You've already started this process. I am recommending Cognitive Processing Therapy or CPT. Over twelve weeks, we will use writing and dialogue to change the upsetting thoughts and feelings you've been experiencing. By doing so, we effectively regulate the amygdala and learn how to see the world in a new way. You will have better tools in your toolbox. In general, patients begin feeling better within a few weeks. What questions do you have for me? I have several information sheets with all of this information for you to take home and review," Dr. Anderson finishes gently.
I sit for a moment, my hands holding my head. I'm not shocked by the diagnosis, but it still seems surreal. It feels surreal this is happening to me. I shake my head no. "I'll take a look at your sheets and get back to you tomorrow," I say in a flat tone.
"Stephanie, please remember to be kind to yourself. You've already taken the difficult first step of being here and beginning your healing process. It's a lot to take in, but I believe things will get better," Dr. Anderson says encouragingly.
I sigh and look up, grateful to see the clock indicating the session coming to an end. "I know, I know," I say. "I'll get there. Thank you." Carlos rubs my back lightly, and with a few closing comments, I find myself being ushered out of the office.
I feel numb during the car ride home. I'm not upset, shocked or dismayed. In some ways, I'm relieved. The diagnosis feels like a heavy label, but it also signals a way forward. Hope. It's also a lot to take in all at once, and I feel drained.
Carlos recognizes my need for silence, and I'm thankful he doesn't push me. I reach across the center console of the Turbo and take his hand. I love the way his hands feel; large over my small fingers, strong, rough in areas but clean and smooth overall and warm. The warmth of his hand creeps through my own and spreads throughout my entire body. It grounds my thoughts and helps bring me to the present.
We park in the beach house garage, and Carlos walks around the car to open my door for me. Before I have a chance to move, he's crouched beside me, one hand on my knee and the other tucking an errant curl behind my ear. "Stephanie Michelle Plum," he says, his eyes never leaving my own. "I am amazed by the person you are and the person you are fighting to become. Querida, I love you more each day. Thank you for letting me be there for you today."
Tears that have remained tucked away all day flood the corners of my eyes as a launch myself at Carlos, and we meet in a firm embrace. "I love you, too," I choke out, and I realize these are tears of overwhelming affection and appreciation for this incredible man.
A/N: I'm not a psychologist and nothing I've written here should be construed as treatment advice. I'm aware some readers may be reading this story through the lens of their own experiences. If you, or someone you know, is facing some of the same issues as Steph, please consider visiting these resources. Just as Steph has hope, so can you.
Google (FanFiction doesn't allow posting of hyperlinks):
RAIIN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network). Select tab "After Sexual Assault" for information and resource links.
PTSD: National Center for PTSD. Under "Types of Trauma", select "Violence and Abuse" for non-wartime topics.
