Trauma

Hey everyone! Candy's back! :D As well as Jamie, Gabby, Pete, Sadie, and everybody else that we all love and adore, right?! I did decide to make a sequel for Therapy, and I hope you guys like it as much as the first. With school and stuff, it will be very tough to get updates down daily, but I will do my best to get them done within a couple days. Bear with me. :)

Anyway, I love reviews, rates, and all kinds of support! I'm sure you already know if you read my other stories that I have a blog, or a tumblr more specifically, and I will be posting lots of stuff related to this story and other CandyCaner-related stuff. Feel free to check it out here (http://candycaner.tumblr.com/) and to see what's up every once in a while. ;) You guys should all get one, too. ^___^

So here it is! I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter! :D

-----

"You never realize how much you really love her until she's gone."

--

It's crazy how fast time flies by when life's good, you know? Those moments when you're laughing and smiling over something silly, like pudding on someone's nose. Those moments when you're walking and holding hands, and that person squeezes your hand extra tight. Those moments when you're laying in bed and whispering, kissing her skin with the softest "I love you."

You can never hold onto those moments long enough to really enjoy them, so you have to admire the memories as you sit at your computer desk and type meaningless block-text to some company across the nation.

Er, well... Maybe that's just my situation.

If you weren't already aware, I'm Jamie Mastin. I'm a recovering sex addict, first and foremost. I'm, also, a full-time typist, half-time good worker, always sexy, and forever in love with my gorgeous girlfriend Gabriella Salt. Gabriella and I started seeing each other almost five months ago. She works at a bakery, known as Cliffton's Bakery, down on the corner of 21st and Michael Street, and that's where we met. Gabriella, who hasn't changed too much since then, was very shy and hesitant when it came to conversing with someone like me. And, by someone like me, I mean a lesbian with hormonal issues. I did mention I'm a sex addict, right?

Anyway, with my perfect personality and looks to match, I had managed to persuade Miss Salt to join me on a few friendly outings, but they hadn't always gone so smoothly. When she'd discovered I was in therapy for my addiction, she was terrified. (Oh, Gabriella is in therapy as well, but we'll get to that later.) I had to go through a lot to convince her to see me again, and that only led to more screw-ups by me and more pleading and whining.

You have to understand something, though, before you think I'm some brat that doesn't know when to quit: Gabriella was worth every damn battle. She's got copper-brown hair and matching eyes that contrast so beautifully with her pale skin, and her body is very thin but she has just the right amount of curves to make even a straight girl's mouth salivate -- or just get her jealous. Her attitude is like a bunny being chased constantly by a fox, which means she's always worried and vulnerable, but she has this side of assertiveness and authority that turns me on like no other. She has the sweetest voice, especially when it's just above a whisper and inside my ear, and she's the most real woman I've ever met before in my life.

I got pretty damn lucky, didn't I?

Trust me, though, it was the hardest couple months of my life. Between pushing her too far, dealing with our therapies, homing an ex-lover that was doing cocaine and ruining my relationship, fuming over a jock, dumbass co-worker of Gabriella's, worrying over Gabriella's previous suicidal attempt and her other big, horrible secret, I had many scars, fractures, and tears to show for my victories and misfortunes.

"Hey, Mastin!"

I forgot to mention my boss.

"Hey, Pete," I mumbled in a bored tone, my fingers clacking against the keyboard.

Pete's a big guy that's a little on the short side. He's got one hell of a temper -- based on his kid, though, anyone could understand that -- but he can be a softie at times, too. His sausage-like fingers clung to the door of my office and his white eyes narrowed in my direction. "How much longer you got to go?" he asked.

I scanned over the document. "Just fixing another section of errors, sir, and then I'll send it your way."

"Good," he said. "Then you'll be able to leave."

Flashing him a quick grin, I returned to finishing up my workload. It's not that it was hard, 'cause it certainly wasn't, but it was very tedious and boring to sit there and type and type and type. Some days I would call Cliffton's Bakery and bother my favorite worker there, and sometimes I would have to please myself just to get through the afternoon. I was paid well, though, and the working environment was plain yet comfortable. The other workers were pretty cool, too, with the exception of a creep down in the filing room, but, hey, that's another chapter.

A few minutes later, I was sending the finished letter to Pete's e-mail address and shutting down my computer. I slipped on my jacket and closed the curtains behind me, smiling after a hard workday. Before I made a complete exit, I made a pit-stop in Pete's office to verify he'd gotten the letter, which he had, and then I was off to the parking lot.

It was just after three in the afternoon, and I knew Gabriella wouldn't be home for another two hours. She was co-manager at the bakery along with her good friend Sadie, who had the tendency to butt into other peoples' businesses for her own pleasure. She's a typical girl, really. Gabriella was often stressed with this new title and set of assignments to do at work along with the regular stuff she'd been doing before. But she kept reassuring us both that someone would come along for the managing job soon, anyway. Then she'd be a lot less stressed.

Oh, by the way, when I say Gabriella wouldn't be home, I did mean my house. But, unfortunately, Gabriella and I weren't officially roommates just yet. She did spend more time at my place than her shitty apartment a few blocks away, but she still kept that place as her residency. Some day I knew she would come around and make it official, us living together that is, but I wasn't going to push or pester her about it. I already called it our home anyway.

I parked in the driveway next to my house and got out of my car, hugging my coat tightly to my body as cold air crept through the open crevices. It was close to the end of March but the winter-to-spring weather still hadn't made up its mind about what season it wanted to stick to. One day there would be a nice breeze, no snow, and a bunch of sun. The next was filled with flurries, clouds, and gusts. Today was one of those gusty, cloudy days, and I wasn't happy.

"Hey, London!" I squealed when I unlocked the front door and slinked into the warmth of my home. London, my husky-mix, was sitting on my loveseat, wagging her tail and panting with a smile. She was happy to see me, definitely, but when Gabriella, her other mom, came home, London was a hot mess -- running around and jumping on her. Gabriella adored London, and it made me happy every time I saw them together. "Let's make some dinner for Gabby, hm?"

I was never much of a cook, but ever since Gabriella started working later than me, I felt obligated to make her home-cooked meals -- or order take-out when the food looked inedible. Tonight I was going to make some chicken, for me only since she's a vegetarian, rice and salad. I began to cook the chicken and rice on the stove and let them do their thing. Meanwhile, I fed London and changed my clothes, loving the feel of being in only my undershirt and a pair of sweatpants instead of my work clothes. I knew it wasn't the sexiest thing I could have come up with for Gabriella's arrival, but that was okay. Tomorrow night was going to be the special night.

If you don't know what I mean by that, I'll let you know. Tomorrow's our fifth-month anniversary. Yeah, it'd been a long time since I'd been a relationship that lasted this long. A healthy relationship, anyway. I was so happy. We both had work -- me until three and Gabriella until five, again -- and then Gabriella was supposed to go straight to her therapist for an hour session, and then Gabriella and I were going to spend the rest of our night together. What was to come of it will be a surprise for us all, I suppose.

The chicken was finished, as was the rice, so I decided to let them sit and glanced at the clock. Gabriella would be home in about 20 minutes. I chose to start the salad, filling a large bowl with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and carrots. After throwing the vegetables together, I pulled out one of the drawers and searched for a pair of tongs to toss the salad. Once I found the utensil, I began to shut the drawer but something caught my eye. On the side of the wooden box, I noticed an envelope had been stashed there. Curious, I took it out, and then my heart lodged in my throat.

Lesley's letter from Christmas.

Remember when I mentioned that ex-lover with the coke problem and tried to ruin Gabriella and me? Yeah, that's Lesley. We were not actually lovers, I wouldn't say, actually. I would have considered us to be, erm... fuck-buddies. Friends with benefits. Many benefits. Both of us were, or are, sex-addicts and we loved to screw women and each other on a nightly basis for years. I thought I'd fallen in love with the woman until I found her having a threesome and I couldn't handle it. It tore my heart to pieces.

Anyway, we had separated. She'd gone to some other part of the state, and I focused on fucking whoever I could to make the pain go away. Months later, she reappeared briefly in my life and told me she had been getting help for her addictions, mainly the sex-related one, and told me that I should get the same help, which I did. Then she left for another period of time and showed up the day I left therapy, asking me to take her in 'cause she had no one else.

I made stupid decisions then. I let Lesley stay, unaware of her drug and violence issues, and I lied to Gabriella about it. After a couple days of staying at my place, I found Lesley in my bed with some girl -- surprise, surprise -- and knew she was high off her ass. She nearly killed me when she threw a knife at me, but I ducked in time, and then she talked to Gabriella on the phone as she pinned me down on the couch, revealing to my girlfriend that I'd been lying to her the whole time. To this day, even, I wish Lesley had hit me with that knife so I hadn't caused so much pain to Gabriella.

Lesley had gotten help after I'd told my old therapist about her problem. She was taken to a rehabilitation center and was getting treated for all of her demons. I, very fortunately, had managed to fix my relationship with Gabriella, vowing to her that I would never hurt her nor lie to her again. Those are still things that I never plan to do.

Back to the letter in my grasp, last Christmas I had gotten some mail from the same rehab center Lesley was taken to. Lesley had written that letter to tell me she was getting better, she was sorry, and that she loved me. She had from the beginning.

Looking down at the letter, I shuddered out a breath. Did I still have feelings for Lesley? Yes. Would I always? Probably. She's that whole first love-thing. That one that never completely leaves your heart. Did she make some huge mistakes in the past? Yes. Would I forgive her for them? Maybe.

I heard the rattle of the front door and froze, staring at it as my heart hammered inside my chest. I thrust my hand into the drawer, pushing the letter back into its original spot, and slammed it shut.

"H-hey," Gabriella shivered, shutting the door tightly behind her. London jumped from the couch and barked in excitement, leaping about Gabriella like she was a new toy. Gabriella flashed me a quick, tired smile as she slipped off her winter jacket and wiped her hair back from her magenta-stained cheeks. "What are you up to?" she asked, pushing London from her as she shimmied out of her shoes, watching me with those lovely brown eyes.

I licked my lips and swallowed the lump in my throat, offering her a faulty smile in return. "I just finished dinner. Ready to eat?"

Her eyes brightened at the sound of food. She walked towards me and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my lips with her cold yet soft ones. I moaned, letting my hands fall to the small of her back. Gabriella had the best kisses, but she was always quick to pull away. That tease.

"I'm hungry," she murmured, her nose touching mine. I noticed she'd bit down on her bottom lip in a flirtatious manner before turning away and taking her seat at the dining table.

"One moment, please, señorita," I replied in a bad accent, smirking as she sniffled a laugh. As I dished out the meal for us to share, I couldn't help glancing over every so often at the drawer I'd just opened up moments ago.

Was I lying to Gabriella about the letter?

No. She didn't even know about it.

And what she didn't know wasn't going to hurt her.