The Billionaire’s Savior

Chapter 8

“I think I’m gonna start self defense classes,” Chris said as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to a knitting Robyn.

“Oh yeah,” she said brow furrowed as she focused on getting the cross stitch just right.

“Yeah. It’s time. I’m not going to be a prisoner in my own house forever. And the first step to empowerment is being able to defend myself…right?” he asked, his voice dropping off uncertainly.

“Yeah. I mean that’s important but don’t forget that you also have to do something else.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember that not everything is within your control.”

Chris bestowed her with a blank stare, “Thank you. For that enlightening piece of wisdom.”

“Yeah. No problem. Any time.”

“Well so I’m gonna go on Craigslist and see if I can find any specialists who do home visits.”

“Really Craigslist?” Robyn asked skepticism dripping from every word.

“Don’t be a snob. That’s how I found you.”

“Yeah, but you got lucky with me. Don’t expect lightening to strike twice,” she put down her knitting. “Hey how about if it’s in a controlled environment? Would you think about it? We could go after hours to a studio or dojo or whatever they’re called and see the dojo master or whatever; do an hour and come back. How’s that?”

“Very easy to say; not so easy to do.”

“I do get that Chris; I’m not saying it compares to you but I did have my own little crisis not so long ago. So I know it’s hard. I also know that there’s no way through except…through.”

“I was thinking about also seeing a therapist.”

“Well good for yo’ black ass. My argument still stands.”

“I’m going to try.”

“Excellent.”

*****

Robyn awoke to a kick in the shin and a shaking bed. She turned to Chris just as the inventor let out a whimper and started flailing madly. Nightmares, Robyn deduced quickly. Flashbacks. PTSD.

Chris’s face was screwed up tightly and his fists were clenched as he tossed and turned, his legs kicking wildly and sweat gathering at his temples. Robyn reacted, bodily throwing herself on top of Chris, pinning him beneath her. Chris reacted like any paranoid man poised for attack would have: he punched Robyn square in the face. Robyn let out a yelp as she grappled to pin Chris’s arms above his head. Chris awoke suddenly with a yell, his eyes snapping open, chest heaving for breath.

“Oh God,” he gasped, looking at Robyn’s face above him in horror. “Robyn, Christ, I’m sorry.” He reached out with a trembling hand and gently touched Robyn’s nose and upper lip. Her nose was swollen and already bruising, and her upper lip was split and bleeding.

“Are you alright?” Robyn asked, ignoring Chris’s apology.

Chris nodded distractedly. “I’m fine, just a nightmare,” he replied, gently rolling Robyn off of him and getting out of bed. He pulled on his soft white sleep t-shirt and handed Robyn her gray one. “Come to the bathroom with me, let me ice your nose and clean up your lip.”

Robyn dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Unnecessary,” she said, but she pulled on her shirt and followed Chris to the washroom. She sat obediently on the closed toilet seat while Chris went to get ice from the freezer. Chris returned and handed her ice wrapped in a tea towel.

“Hold this to your nose,” he ordered, and Robyn did as he said, knowing that resistance would be futile. Chris grabbed a hand towel and ran it under warm water, bringing it up to Robyn’s lip and gently patting the blood away. “It’ll be swollen and bruised for awhile,” he said, checking Robyn’s nose. “But you’ll be fine.”

“Of course I’ll be fine,” Robyn said. “It’s nothing, and you’ve taken excellent care of me, Doctor.”

Chris held the ice pack to Robyn’s nose. “Just for a few more minutes,” he promised in response to Robyn’s childish pout. They sat quietly for a moment before Chris broke the silence. “I think you should go back to sleeping in your own room again,” he said, averting his eyes. Robyn didn’t reply, and Chris finally glanced back at her. She looked like a small child; the ice pressed to her nose, her split lip, and the hurt in her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t like having you in my bed, because you know I do,” Chris continued, removing the ice from Robyn’s face and placing it beside the sink. “And I don’t mean all the time. You can definitely still spend time in my bed. In fact, I insist that you do. But I think, at night, when we’re actually sleeping, we shouldn’t share a bed.”

Robyn forced the hurt off of her face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffed, standing abruptly and heading out of the bathroom. “It’s still the middle of the night, let’s go back to bed.” She started heading up the stairs in determination.

Chris stood firm at the bottom of the stairs. “Fine, you can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep in yours. It doesn’t really matter to me where we sleep, as long as we’re not together.” he paused and his voice softened his eyes downcast. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Chris,” Robyn said soothingly as she came back down the steps towards him. “I am fine. It was an accident. It won’t happen again. We both sleep better when we’re together. Come back to bed.”

“It could happen again, Robyn!” Chris exclaimed. “And next time I could punch you harder. You don’t know how to protect yourself from me and –“

“Then teach me,” Robyn interrupted. “Teach me how to block your punches and avoid your kicks. Teach me,” she said, looking down at Chris. “Teach me, because I can’t sleep without you anymore, I don’t know how.” Chris hesitated and Robyn continued. “I don’t want to fall asleep without your hand in mine. I don’t want to wake up every morning without you in my arms. I don’t want to sleep alone. I can’t. I cannot sleep without you. Please, Chris.”