Lane Assignments

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven (con't)

Ray's POV

If Annie was still before, now she's frozen, her shoulders tense. I realize that she's instinctively preparing herself to be hit, to be punished by Sir.

As much as I want to slam my fists on the table in front of me, to scream until I get some answers, I force myself to take several deep breaths, counting slowly. One... two... three... It takes until thirty-seven before I trust myself to move or speak again.

"Annie... baby? It's me, your dad. You're here with me now and you're safe. Do you hear me?"

She nods slowly, but she doesn't look up.

"Annie, I am not your Sir." The word sounds foreign and dirty as I say it, foul-tasting on my tongue. "Look at me... please." I add the 'please' to make it seem like less of a command. She is done being ordered around by that bast- jerk.

She slowly looks up and holds my gaze for several seconds, and I finally get a good look into those sky blue eyes.

"I'm just so glad to have you home," I say, and my voice breaks. Home and more or less in one piece. I can't help thinking of her coming home battered or - God forbid - in a body bag. That image causes a wave of nausea to pass through me before I can repress it. "You're too thin. Please eat."

Even though my stomach is now a little queasy, I need to set a good example. So I pick up my fork and dig into my pot pie.

I make a point not to watch her while she eats, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious. But I'm relieved when she takes a bite, and then another. Eat first, then talk. When she's finished about half her pot pie and all of her broccoli, she lays down her fork. Good enough.

"Up for a little talk with your old man?" I get up and move into the living room, sitting at one end of our trusty plaid couch. This couch has seen us through some rough times, and it'll see us through some more.

Annie follows me, bringing the rest of her can of Diet Coke. Charlie, who had taken his place at her feet during dinner, pads after her. He jumps up and settles in between us.

Annie pulls her favorite afghan off the back of the couch and puts it over her knees, snuggling in like it's Friday movie night.

"Annie, I've made you an appointment with Dr. Scott tomorrow afternoon. He really helped you last time. But, kiddo, can you tell your old man what happened? Even a little bit of it?"

She picks at the afghan, pulling off little bits of fuzz. "I'm afraid if I tell you, you won't look at me the same again. And I don't even know where to start," she says softly.

"Sweetheart, there's nothing you could tell me that will ever change the way I feel about you. How about starting at the beginning?"

APOV

I shake my head. He will look at me differently. "The thing about the beginning is... is that my relationship with José started out as a purely physical one."

"Well I can see that... you practically curled into a ball in there when I got worked up."

"Not that kind of physical," I say, and I watch as the realization of what I mean clicks in his mind.

Oh. And he squirms in his seat, wrestling between wanting to know... and not wanting to know.

"Ever since... Texas, I've had a problem with being touched. Because of what he did, touch - especially intimate touch - caused me to feel pain. And instead of dealing with it? I just pushed forward... wanting - needing - to be perfect in everything else. And I was ready to snap under the pressure when José -"