Lost in Me (Lost Duet #1)

Chapter One

Emory

Present Day

I pull into the center’s parking lot and find my normal spot at the front. The closer to the door I can get, the better. I have been working at this center for seven years now. Being able to help others escape what I lived through has become a passion of mine, so much that when I moved here, I went back to school and got my master’s in social work. Being able to give others hope after their trauma and during their trauma has helped me heal from my own.

At first, it was hard, but now I have found a safe routine. I go a different way to work every day. I have three different apartments I move from, and I have five different cell phones. I still stay in contact with the officers that took me to my new home. They have become my close friends and have been a big help in decreasing my anxiety over the years.

Jesse still haunts my dreams. I still jump when I hear certain noises or certain tones of voices, and when I am around men, I am still on edge. Over the years, I have been able to learn how to cope with my trauma response, and what I learned in school has really helped me as well. You can never have too many coping skills.

But, my coping skills and education still haven’t prepared me for when Jesse will be released from prison. Which I know will be soon. It has been twelve years, and the judge kept his promise. Jesse never got an early release, but that also means he has served his full sentence, and they can’t keep him longer. But I have faith that he has moved on. He was possessive and controlling, but who would hang on for twelve years? He was crazy, but not that crazy, or at least that is what I tell myself.

I take a deep breath as I turn off the car and grab my bag. I open my car door and quickly get out. The air is warm, and the sun is already hot in the sky. I love the weather here. You never know what you are going to get from time to time, but for the most part, it is nice and comforting.

I close my car door and start to make my way to the front door of the center. I look up and see the big sign that reads, REDEEMING HOPE, the center for domestic violence. Working here has given me many different points of view, not only on DV but also on my own trauma. A lot of my questions have been answered by working here. It has helped me understand myself better and has also helped me understand and process what I have survived myself.

I open the front door and walk inside. I can see my coworkers walking around, talking and laughing. I see clients in the waiting room. Some have been here for a while getting services, and others are new and waiting to be seen for the first time.

I found out about this place because I was a client when I first moved here. They really helped me and inspired me to share my story and help others who are going through the same thing.

I look at the front desk and see our director and owner, Shawn Cross. He is gorgeous, like a model out of a magazine. He has long dark hair that comes down to his shoulders, but like every other day, it is pulled back into a bun. He is wearing his black dress-up shoes, black slack pants, and a black button-up shirt. The sleeves are pulled up past his elbows, showing off his tattoos. The first two buttons are undone, showing off part of his chest tattoo.

I haven’t spoken to him much, only in passing, but we all know who he is. He is the biggest meth dealer in the State. A criminal, a mob boss, or that is what others call him. The longest conversation we have ever had was when he interviewed me. I told him part of my story, but I knew he already read it. He looked at my file from when I was a client. He knows a lot about me, and I only know what my coworkers and the rumors have told me.

I honestly don’t know how much is true, but I do know he is a dangerous man but a man who has a soft heart for women who have been hurt. If I could guess why, it is probably because one of his family members went through what most of us women here have survived.

Even though Shawn is a drug dealer and a criminal, he gives back to his community and gives women a safe place to heal. So, in my eyes, he is good even if others only see the monster. I know monsters. I was with a monster, and Shawn Cross is not a monster. He is just misunderstood.

I stop at the desk. Shawn stops talking to Sherri, who has also worked here as long as I have. He looks up at me, his eyes locked with mine. He has the deepest green eyes I have ever seen. The kind of eyes that look into your soul.

I feel my heart starting to race as I break my eyes from him and look at Sherri. She is smiling at me. She is a kind older woman, soft-spoken and gentle. You can tell she is one of those people who really care about your answer when she asks how you are doing.

“Good morning, Sherri,” I whisper , allowing a smile to form across my lips.

“Good morning, Em,” she says softly. The nickname has stuck with me since I got the job here. I have never had a nickname, and in a weird way, it makes me feel like I am part of something that matters to the people I work with.

I look back at Shawn. He is standing up straight now behind Sherri. His eyes search mine for a moment. “Shawn,” I murmur softly.

“Em,” he acknowledges calmly.

I slowly walk around the counter and pass Sherri and Shawn toward my office, which is right across from Shawn’s. Even though we haven’t said much to each other over the years, we have spent a lot of time watching each other. Normally, around men, I am on edge and nervous, but not with Shawn. He puts my anxiety at ease without even trying, which scares me a little.

Shawn without even knowing it, has caused the anxiety ridden knot that is constantly inside my stomach. When I was a client here, I felt safe and understood. That has not changed since I have started working here, if anything it has only intensified over the years.

My trauma response to men is still the same, but I know Shawn is here, and he has made it clear he isn’t going anywhere.