Damian's POV
"Any more episodes, Juneau?" Dr. Schaeffer's blue eyes were magnified by the glasses she wore today. Her pen was poised, aligned and ready.
At my side, June deflated. Her shoulder slumped into mine. A soft creak of cracked leather groaned as her hips shifted.
"Yeah..." she whispered. "A couple."
Both of us sat, hips to knees pushed together, my arm over her shoulders. My other hand's fingers interlocked with June's, our joined hands resting on my thigh.
In the past three weeks, June had made amazing progress. She still locked away parts of the experience and the crippling anxiety attacks that rendered her motionless also embarrassed her.
We hadn't identified any triggers, other than when June was alone. Dr. Schaeffer assured us in every session, three per week, that was positive news. June hadn't associated conditions or circumstances with her capture, but we also hadn't physically been anywhere near our apartment or June's work.
I've made sure of that, for both our sakes. Not taking a ride through Brooklyn to test that theory.
I hated that both former places of home for June were tainted so that the comforts and happiness she got from them were destroyed.
"Juneau." Dr. Schaeffer's eyes widened. "Recovering from trauma isn't an on-off switch, and it's not linear progress. Bumps, dips, and setbacks are normal and healthy. Your brain is trying to rebalance itself."
"I know," June grumbled, her teeth clenching until a crease appeared on her cheek. "That's the thing, I wish I could just... wipe it all out of my mind. Clean slate, move forward... You don't offer hypnosis, do you?"
A flash of amusement appeared in Dr. Schaeffer's eyes, and then vanished in a blink. "No."
Since I didn't know June had any anxiety attacks since we were last here two days ago, I made assumptions about when they might occur. "When did you have them?"
Pink filled her cheeks, spread up into her forehead, and flushed down her neck. "One in the shower, another when you left. Bullet sat with me."
Ever since we got Bullet back, he had become glued to June's side. Laying against her shin or on her feet, he needed to be touching her. While I was glad that they had each other, I worried he experienced anxiety as well.
"And I hate that," June's words echoed my own sentiments, redirected from her perspective. "I hate that saying this would make Damian feel like he can't leave to pick up food, or return to work again... Or that I can't step foot into work..."
June paused and drew a slow breath. "Because that's what normal people do."
My chest squeezed with the same constriction that choked my throat. June never ceased to amaze me with how openly she expressed herself in these sessions. She even spoke about my own thoughts and concerns, which I wasn't surprised about because I was fucking exhausted from masking them.
And she's tired of me treating her like a broken eggshell, in her words.
Fortunately, with each step forward, I didn't have to hold back. Little by little, June came back to me. She became comfortable enough around me that she initiated conversations and physical contact, still clinging to me whenever we slept.
After weeks of awkward uncertainty, I loved seeing June's warmth return. Our physical intimacy was shot to shit, but we stayed inside. I cooked in lieu of takeout. We watched each movie to its end. Slowly, June inched closer on the sofa until she rested her head on my shoulder and I wrapped her under a blanket.
She still doesn't want to go outside much though.
Dr. Schaeffer offered us couple counseling, with only the extra charge of June's presence. Those tri-weekly visits were the only outings June made. She took an open-ended leave of absence from work, which bothered her, but she needed peace of mind before she could properly care for any animals.
Plus, fuck knows how difficult any reminders of Luca would be.
"Fuck, I can't even make it to work." Tears husked June's voice, so I handed her a handkerchief. She folded it between her fingers then blotted her eyes. "I wish I could but... the idea freezes me up. Except my heart, which feels like it wants to break out of my chest."
"Juneau, Damian..." Dr. Schaeffer lowered her clipboard. "What happened to you was not normal, so expecting certain reactions is setting yourselves up to be disappointed. What's more critical is to take small, tangible, realistic steps. Together and separately."
My hand rubbed June's shoulder. "Whatever she needs, I'm all in."
Dr. Schaeffer shifted her eyes to me. "Damian, you've made a lot of progress but need to continue working on releasing the burden of guilt."
I nodded, my thumb tracing the bumps and valleys of June's hand. A lump swelled in my throat, which I swallowed. "I know. It's easier with June back and applying the reminders."
A constant work in progression, my homework assigned by Dr. Schaeffer involved reminding myself how June was physically recovered. Statistically speaking, ten days was a long period of time for kidnapping, but my team, NYPD, and I never gave up on her.
Because, selfishly, any other line of thinking would have destroyed me.
Dr. Schaeffer's eyes shifted to June. "And once you do have an episode, June, it's imperative that you have the proper tools and support to help you get through them. The relaxation strategies combined with cognitive skills and behavior strategies will shift the anxiety to a manageable level."
"Ugh, I know." June curled her free hand into a fist. "I know, it's so weird to remember this stuff from college and apply it to myself."
"But?" Dr. Schaeffer prompted.
"But it's helping," she admitted with a sigh.
The first week of therapy was a lot of trial and error, more misses than hits. June's stubbornness pushed through, and she learned a combination of controlled breathing, grounding objects, and calming imagery helped steady her through the storm.
Celia also taught June how to knit. Or crochet, I wasn't sure what the fuck it was called but, so far, June had my neck set for life with new scarfs.
I however, relied more on distracting and challenging my own thoughts. June's progress was more significant to me. Still on admin leave from work, I refocused my extra free time toward finding a new place for us to live.
Dr. Schaeffer steered her line of questions there, "What about your apartment? Have you been back?"
Both of us shook our heads.
June and I stayed in the hotel for two straight weeks, only leaving for food and Dr. Schaeffer's sessions. We started looking for a new place online, but nothing jumped out at first.
Once June was found, I was allowed back into our old place. Neither of us could stomach stepping inside, so I exercised the second-best option and hired a moving company to put our stuff in storage, contractors to replace the flooring, and a cleaning company to do the rest.
Jason kindly supervised the process for us, sending me progress pictures. All expenses were covered by insurance, not that I cared. Once completed, the place looked like we never lived in it and realtors flooded my phone with offers to sell it.
"It's sold, actually." At the surprise in June's eyes, I added, "Came under contract forty-eight hours after it was pocket listed."
Her smile didn't lift into her eyes. "Guess we should look harder."
New York had no shortage of available places but neither of us were satisfied with our initial searches. Security was my only concern; I refused to see any place that didn't have a doorman and allowed the security updates we needed.
Not that it helped in the last place.
When my own guilt weighed me down too much to function, I stacked up the evidence as to why my guilt-sourced anxiety was unhealthy. Dr. Schaeffer provided me with fourteen questions she framed for me to answer whenever I found myself overwhelmed or short of breath. For now, I narrowed them to three that offered the biggest impact.
Are my thoughts helping me deal with this scenario, or are they aggravating the situation?
Can I truly control this situation?
What facts support this doubt? What evidence contradicts it?
Dr. Schaeffer read my thoughts, "And your questions Damian? Are they helping?"
"They are." My head bobbed. "It's so simple but if I stop and ask myself, it flips a switch in my brain."
"Well, you're both making commendable progress." Dr. Schaeffer's lips curled up. "Time, communication, and patience are your most effective tools right now. We'll continue to meet, monitoring your progress, over the course of six months. If it's alright with you, I recommend that we drop the number of weekly sessions."
I was fine with that suggestion but left the answer up to June. "I... think I'd like to come twice per week, if we can."
"Sure can." She looked at me for confirmation, so I nodded, and she jotted down a note. "You have my number as well. Call any time in between."
Glancing at the clock on the wall above us, she offered a soft smile. "Only other reminder I have is stressing the importance of exercise, sleep, and avoiding caffeine. I'll see you in four days' time. Any questions?"
Both of us shook our heads. If single sessions wore me out, the additional emotions from June's recovery made me near comatose by the end. We both stood up, thanked the doctor, and walked out.
"I think I'm ready for that sleep part," June whispered on our way out.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "You got it."
"With the power invested in me..." The man at the top of the altar grinned and shifted his eyes side to side. "I pronounce you..."
June's eyes leaked, tiny streams erupting from them and spilling down her cheeks. Congestion clogged her nose worse than Midtown's traffic, and she blew it loudly if every handkerchief I stuffed in my pockets.
"Husband and husband."
With those words, Adam and Vaughn leaned in for a very long, steamy, lip-locked kiss.
Once the crowd erupted in cheers, June wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. A six-string ensemble started up the infamous wedding exit song. The air filled with a flurry of white rose petals as every person on the aisle whipped their handfuls up. With the white fabric draped on the walls, from the ceiling, and over the chairs, we were caught up in a blizzard of white.
Guess that's the idea?
June no doubt gave a better description of the wedding details, but I appreciated the details, no doubt planned down to the last rose petal. We stood in a Midtown hotel, where both the ceremony and reception were held. A ten-foot arch stood where Adam and Vaughn exchanged their vows. The white rose and lily mixture now became the backdrop over their groom-only table and coordinated with the five-foot tall glass centerpieces that were placed on the zoomed in tables.
She even withheld what gift 'we' got them, telling me only that she had it shipped to their 'new' apartment.
I'm just glad we have one of our own.
On the other side of June, Celia leaned forward with raised eyebrows. "So... You have a new place?"
"We do." June nodded. "We're renting the top floor of an Upper West Side rowhouse."
"Upper West side?" Jason side eyed me, which I nodded at.
Once our stuff shipped was over from storage, June took the lead on settling us into the new place. It was all exposed brick and ducts, more my minimal, industrial style than her... animals and dead plants.
Which, for the record, every last brown leaf from the hotel made it intact.
At the moment, we were renting the top floor of a five-story Upper West Side row house. I insisted on several security updates, which the landlord agreed to. The neighborhood was saturated with wealthy Orthodox Jewish families, plenty of small hands that petted Bullet on our walks to Riverside Park and frowned at my bike's noise.
Under June's efficiency, all our shit was placed and a flatted pile of boxes sat out for recycling in two days. I busied myself with pointless tasks, including finding the kitchen cabinets' hinges were loose. My hand cramped from screwing them back in.
On a purely physical level, the sight of June riled me up. Her bruises and cuts faded, leaving no physical scars, fortunately. She was a beautiful woman but even with complete ownership of my heart and balls, I kept my dick in check.
The silent, withdrawn, introverted version of June needed more time. I missed my open, confident, explorative partner. Sex between us was more than two sweaty bodies smashed together. It was a deeper form of communication, physical reassurance of the words I was shit at saying.
As the love of my life, I wanted to take care of her, bring her to levels of satisfaction that brought back the amazing, filthy side of June...
When she's ready.
For now, part of June was enough for me. I basked in the relief that in time she grew back closer to her warm, open, expressive self.
June admitted that progress herself in our last session with Dr. Schaeffer. Her words opened my eyes and broke my heart.
"I don't feel like... me." Tears beaded up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "I don't see the world the same anymore. Where I used to see smiles and kind faces, now I don't trust people."
Dr. Schaeffer prompted me, "Damian?"
My nails scratched at the scruff on my chin. "I think... June's still adjusting, yeah."
June was right. The overly open, optimistic, heart on her sleeve disappeared. Less warmth glowed in her eyes, and she had little to no interest in engaging with the outside world. I loved that she included me within her secure bubble, trusted me to see her pulling herself back together, but I worried about her.
I wasn't the only person who worried. Ma and Emma blew up my phone daily asking about June. Her aunt and uncle checked in.
My own tears tickled my cheeks. "I hate that the darkness from my world shattered her pure, sweet heart."
A sob pitched in my chest. "I hate that they took June to get to me. She's the last person who deserved... Who deserved to be let down by me."
"You didn't let me down." June turned to me, and her thumb dragged over my eyes. "You taught me not to let my surroundings overwhelm me. I told myself that over and over to... get through those days."
"And from what I heard," Dr. Schaeffer skimmed over her notes. "Three-on-one is difficult for anyone. Juneau, immobilizing two attackers is commendable."
"It wasn't enough," we both mumbled.
My palm curled around our program pamphlet as I blinked away the recent memory. The elaborate swirls of calligraphy I held were no doubt written by a Pulitzer author or famous New York fashion hand model.
"Celia did that." June's finger tapped on our program.
Or not.
"Really? Huh." I flipped through the three-page ceremony program, which explained why Adam and Vaughn's ceremony was nearly an hour. "Looks good, Celia."
"Oh gosh!" was the squeaked-out response as she palmed her chest. "Did you compliment me? I need to sit down."
"Ha." I rolled my eyes at Jason, who was on baby duty.
Penny, as they called her, was strapped to Jason's chest in a reverse backpack. Her lips pouted with a fine line of drool beaded up in the corners. Light gray eyes, Celia's color, locked on mine and she laughed.
The black dress shirt collar I wore choked my neck, so I loosened my tie and skimmed over June's appearance. Her eyes and nose were swollen but her tears stopped. It was heartwarming to see happy tears dampening her cheeks. Adam and Vaughn whipped by in a blur of white among the black the rest of us wore.
"This is nice," I remarked as we exited the aisle, stepping aside for cocktails and the hotel to set up the dinner tables. "A bit more low-key than I expected, to be honest."
"They scaled back." Celia and Jason joined our cocktail table.
"This..." Jason's hand swept around the posh hotel interior. "Is scaling back?"
He had a point. The only non-white surfaces, other than the black-clothed guests, were the wooden bar and light tan carpets. Gigantic crystal chandeliers caught the folds in all the white fabric.
"Funny thing about getting kidnapped..." June's sarcasm was audible through the hummed crowd noise. "It puts a few priorities in perspective."
"It does." My other hand palmed my chest.
If June noticed I wore a diamond ring on a platinum band around my neck, she didn't say anything. I planned to propose, with Bullet's help, once we locked down a permanent place.
At some point, I also needed to return to work.
Hernandez checked in with me every Sunday evening to see if I was coming into work again. He never mentioned any work updates but didn't need to. Jenks updated me daily, with details that sickened me on June's behalf.
Luca Cabello, whose real name was Aaron Anander Mendez, spilled his entire guts within one confession. He also ID'd the unknown man June shot as twenty-two-year-old Elias Medina. Elias, originally from South Bronx's clique, had recently relocated to Brooklyn... and worked as another coworker of June's at AMC.
Our session with Dr. Schaeffer after I told June she had two informants tracking her was the hardest one. She broke down and I had to steal her phone to prevent her from quitting her job. As a day shift vet tech, Elias kept a distant eye on June. In addition to his MS-13 recruiting efforts, he informed Mendez about the internship opening.
Luca's confessions, including other names Elias recruited, combined with a clean record that worked in his favor. All signs pointing toward him being an accomplice earned him a lighter prison sentence upstate New York instead of Rikers. From Jenks' reports, he was the only one of the six perps arrested that showed any remorse during his interviews. Bryson interviewed his family in Brooklyn, who were heartbroken at the idea their son's animal hospital internship was a sham.
Still best I wasn't the one doing any interrogating.
The betrayal within Vice cut deep. Anander Cerrato, whose real name was Luca Samantiego, went one step further than evidence destruction. The money launderer's nephew also disclosed detailed descriptions of undercover officers, including their appearance, exact locations and times of arrival, while tipping off on undercover ops. Not only had this delayed our investigation, enabling more suspected brothels to weed out my detectives from legitimate clients in six suspected locations, but also put my undercover officers at risk.
Maria quit the day Anander was arrested, suspected to be his girlfriend. According to Jenks' notes, which included a few expletives, Shirley's ego ballooned bigger than the entire block.
I didn't have the heart to tell her Maria wasn't directly involved, but her name added onto a watch list was enough for a full days' worth of 'I told you so.'
All of this happened while I was on administrative leave for June. For the first time in nine years, I didn't fucking care about seeing long, complicated cases to their completion. I cared about June's health, her recovery.
I would have quit my own job if she asked. She didn't though. My strong girl worked her mental health, one broken piece at a time, into a new foundation. Its support was shaky at first, but time, patience, and her dedication strengthened it.
Hernandez never pressured me to return, offering me as much time off as I needed. I hadn't taken a true vacation in nine years. One look at June served me enough of a reason that we needed some time off.
I should take her somewhere.
"Oh, let's look at the cakes." June tugged on my elbow. "Adam said there were groom's cakes."
What the fuck is a groom's cake?
The four, or four and a half, of us stepped to the cake table on a side wall, a six-tier, sold white cake, with two flat sheet cakes next to it. Each tier of the main cake was a different shape and two simple, silver, male symbols were interconnected on the top. One sheet cake was a collage of black and white photographs around New York, Vaughn's no doubt, while the other -
June's laugh warmed my shoulder. "Of course, they have to have one dick here."
"Wouldn't be them without it," Celia murmured and steered Jason's shoulders so Penny's eyes weren't pointed at the design of a tip poking out of a pair of black boxers... with the caption, 'Wishing you much hap-penis.'
My hand clapped over my eyes.
Only those two.
A soft, relaxed smile played on June's lips as we huddled around cocktail tables.
"What?" I prompted.
"I'm happy for them." She sipped her white wine. "That they've found each other. Neither's perfect but they fit perfectly together. They're on the same page with their life's plan. It's beautiful to see... even if I'm one thousand percent sure they're fucking right now."
I choked on the olive I popped in my mouth. The vinegar burned the back of my throat as I sputtered and coughed until tears filled my eyes. June's hand pounded on my back.
"Oh, they are." Celia rolled her eyes. "Jason and I have a bet of where. He thinks in the men's room, I think they snuck up to their hotel suite."
"Hmm..." June hummed, which directed three sets of eyes turned to me. "What?"
"Someone has to check the bathroom." Jason grabbed Penny's dangling legs. "I have a baby."
"No." I frowned because, if they were fucking the bathroom, I was not about to be the one who interrupted them.
"Wait..." June glanced between them. "What are the terms? Because I'm on team random coat closet."
By Jason and Celia's silence, I assumed it was a dirty agreement. Thankfully, my mouth was olive free for that reason, and dropped open when Jason cleared his throat.
"It's about when we try for baby number two."
My eyes stretched so wide, I was surprised they didn't fall into my drink. "On purpose?"
"Yes!" Celia chirped with a pout. "Jason wants to wait until... umm, later."
"Couple of years," he added, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"And you?" My eyebrows raised at that ticking bomb of a biological clock.
She'd better not rub that baby fever off on me. Ma's already got baby rabies.
Another glance at June softened that thought.
"I'd be okay with two close in age," Celia admitted. "Like me and my sister. We're seventeen months apart."
"One of us is right." June's sweet laugh hit my ears, drawing my attention. I turned where she pointed, at two flush-faced grooms in white suits that rejoined the reception. By now, the tables were set up, which led to a scrutinous discussion of who won the bet.
"I heard the word baby." Ma leaned back in her seat from the next table over. "Are you -"
"Nope." I winked at Emma sitting across from her. "Take it up with the uterus."
Ma and Emma both suffocated June with the hug they gave her before the wedding started. Chris shook my hand, his eyes heavy as he offered his condolences and relief at what happened. My mother and sister insisted June let them take her out on a girls' day, whatever the fuck that involved, but was thankful we were ushered to our seats before June answered.
I turned back to my table, where the weight of June's cheek rested on my shoulder. Lightness sparkled in her eyes and her head tipped back as she laughed during the speeches. I ignored the roasts thrown at the happy couple, sitting back and relaxing at June's reactions. With the entire room, she cheered and clapped during Adam and Vaughn's choreographed dance number to a compilation of songs.
Some of their moves were too suggestive, even for my eyes. Their pelvic thrusts shifted into a slow song, where they moved and gazed at each other like a room of three hundred plus weren't here.
My arm rested over the back of my girlfriend's chair. I leaned over and pressed my lips into the side of her head. "I'm so proud of you, June."
"Hmm?" Her flushed cheeks turned toward me, and her hand squeezed my thigh under the table. The simple clutch sent a throb of heat up between them, which nested deep in my pelvis. "It... feels good to be out again. I want to be able to laugh, have fun again."
"Let's go have some fun then." Noticing a full dance floor, I lifted up my other palm. "Dance with me."
The next two hours passed in a happy, chaotic blur. With the exception of bathroom trips, I spent every minute with June on the dance floor. June in my arms, June's ass rubbed over my crotch, her breasts bumping in my chest, her back against my front, head tipped back and laughs filling my ear. The only dance partners I shared her with were Adam or Vaughn, then stole her back.
By the end, my suit coat was draped over the back of my chair with June's black sweater. Sweat ringed my armpits and strands of June's hair clung to her neck. The two of us chugged glasses of ice water and fanned our sweaty faces. She kicked off her heels with a groan, then sat upright when Celia plopped a sleeping Penny in her arms and raced off to the bathroom.
"Ohh..." June repositioned the baby's head on her chest. She cradled the back of Penny's head with her palm, the other cupped around her butt.
My heart tugged in my chest when June closed her eyes, leaned down and pushed her nose into the top of Penny's head. The sight tightened a coil in my chest and dryness crept up the back of my throat.
"So cute." Celia stood next to me and snapped a picture. My agreement sat on the tip of my tongue when she smirked and patted my shoulder. "You should give her one."
I didn't answer, instead smiling down at the whiskey neat Jason placed in my grasp. With a slow sip, the amber heat coated my tongue. Delaying my response, I swallowed.
June does deserve a family.
She also deserves to wear this ring hanging around my neck.
The corners of my lips curled up at the sight of her looking so much at peace.
And I know exactly how I'll give it to her.