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I didn’t answer because what was the point? He would demand that I actually speak.

Trauma was not an excuse to become silent. His words.

I remembered back to that session. It didn’t last long, and I left shortly after, never to see him again. I couldn’t even remember his name. He didn’t deserve that much.

It was late one evening during the week. I sat on the couch with a glass of white wine, reading a classic novel, and listening to music. The heavy bass and the growl of the singer slid into my ears, easing the constant anxiety resting on my shoulders. Every time he screamed, I felt almost at peace.

“How the hell does a quiet girl like you listen to this kind of music?” Ashton Donovan shook his head. “I’ll never understand it.”

“Don’t listen to him,” his twin brother, Aiden, said. “You listen to whatever you want.”

I only nodded, shoving the ear bud back into my ear as the guys went back to work on the construction they were doing on the center.

My heart warmed at the memory. The twins had become what I would once consider friends. Now I just assumed they, along with everyone else, put up with me because I was just there. It was a cynical way of looking at things but having been through hell, my emotions and my heart were closed off. To everyone. Or they used to be until I met a handsome stranger.

Cyrus had been on my mind constantly. I hadn’t seen him lately, but we spoke a bit through texting. Just simple things like how our days were going or what we were watching on TV. Nothing super important but those little conversations, meant a lot to me. I found that I wanted to see him, but I had been too nervous to ask him if he wanted to go get a drink or a coffee. I also missed his commanding tone and gentle, but firm, touch.

A sudden ding came from my phone, startling me.

My eyes widened when I saw who was texting me. Cyrus. The very man that had invaded my thoughts ever since I met him. It had been a couple of days since we last texted, so I was surprised to get a message from him.

Handsome Stranger: Hey, pet. How are you?

I swallowed hard, loving that term of endearment.

Me: Hello. I’m fine, thank you. How are you?

Handsome Stranger: Good too. You’ve been well?

My stomach tumbled that he cared so much about my well-being. When he drove me to my apartment after we had breakfast for supper together, he walked me into the building even though I insisted that he didn’t have to. He even walked me up to my floor and waited at the end of the hallway, making sure I entered my apartment safely.

It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. Even though it happened a few weeks ago, I constantly thought about it.

Me: Yes, keeping busy at the center. You?

Handsome Stranger: Busy here too but nothing overly fun. Some shit went down. That’s why I’ve been quiet the past couple of days. I’m sorry for that.

I frowned, not understanding why he felt the need to apologize for something that wasn’t his fault and also, it wasn’t like we were together. He didn’t need to keep me in the loop over things he did.

Me: You don’t have to apologize, Cyrus.

Handsome Stranger: I do, so I am.

Me: Apology accepted but it’s not necessary.

Handsome Stranger: Thank you.

Me: Is everything good now?

Handsome Stranger: It will be. In time.

Me: I’m glad.

Handsome Stranger: Any plans for tonight?

Me: Listening to music, reading, and having a glass of wine.

Handsome Stranger: What kind of music do you like?