She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“With an eventual goal of one-twenty-five as a minimum maintenance weight, for now?”
She nodded again. “Yes, Sir.”
“If you gain it before then, we expect you to maintain, or slowly gain from there. If there’s a sudden and uncontrolled jump in your weight that we can’t track to the effects of medication or in your food log, we reserve the right to bring in medical intervention, or, if necessary, admit you.”
Another pause, and she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“We understand why you don’t want to tell Kel we’re taking an…unorthodox approach to your treatment. But we reserve the right, if we feel it’s necessary, to tell him before you feel ready to tell him. Not negotiable.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We expect complete honesty from you about your treatment, too. If you feel something isn’t working, or we need to modify something, we expect you to do exactly what you’d do during a negotiation and tell us that. You’ve been through enough now you will know if we need to change course. Or if you feel something is causing a breakthrough and helping, tell us that, too. Or ask us questions as to why we’re doing something.”
“You guys won’t get in trouble doing this, will you?”
He kindly smiled. “No. While what we’re trying is unorthodox, and skirting a few outer edges, we’re taking into consideration the fact that you’re more a friend than a traditional client. We feel the potential benefits are worth it. If you were just starting initial treatment for anorexia and weren’t medically stable, no, there’s no way we’d be taking you on as a client right now. That’s why Doyle referred you to a specialist in the first place.
“But you’re stable now, you have a solid grasp of what hasn’t worked, you have a desire to overcome this, and you understand the risks. And you’re a friend. If this works, or even if parts of what we do work, we plan on writing a paper about it. You could be helping other people by doing this.”
“Really?”
“Really. We will, of course, withhold identifiable information. But we’ve been working on a series of articles and papers about kink-positive approaches to counseling. There isn’t enough info out there yet from a clinical side. Anything we can add to the available information is helpful.”
“Well, if it keeps anyone else from going through what I’m going through, I’m all for it.”
She heard a rap on the door.
“Come in,” Doug called out.
Niall stepped inside. “Doyle’s not far behind me.” She noticed his accent sounded Americanized compared to what she was used to. “Hello, Mal.”
She mustered a smile for him. “Hey, Ni.”
He arched an eyebrow at her, and her face immediately heated. “I mean, Sir. I’m sorry.”
He laughed and held out a hand to her, also shaking normally with her. “Are you sure you’re comfortable calling me that?”
“I am. Sorry, Sir.” She took a deep breath. “Can I say something before I forget?”
“Of course.”
She looked to Doug. “Out in the lobby, when you called me back, you shook hands with me. Like Niall just did.”
Doug looked understandably confused. “Yes?”
“You shook hands normally with me. Both of you did.” She didn’t expect to burst into tears. “Thank you. Kel treats me like I’m going to break, and that’s made this so much worse.”
Doug leaned in and offered her the box of tissues. She took a couple and blew her nose. “Thank you for treating me…normal,” she said.
Niall’s expression darkened. “Has that been an issue for you?”
She nodded. “At the Halloween party at Seth and Leah’s, before we went he told me no hugs, and he told Leah when we first got there. I told him I was okay, that I wanted to hug people, but he said no.”
“Because…he was worried people would hurt you?” Niall asked. “Or because he was being territorial?”
“He was worried people would hurt me, even though I told him I was okay. I know he was also worried people would comment on my weight.”
Niall crossed his arms over his chest, his Irish accent returning. “And ye didn’t feel ye could really overrule him, did ye?”
She shook her head. “I get it. I get why he’s worried. But it’s not helping me right now. Especially when I can’t even get him to really hug me. Or anything else,” she muttered.
He slowly nodded and looked at Doug. “Can ye please note that to send me a reminder as a topic of discussion with him?”
“Sure.” Doug jotted it down on his paper.
“I mean, please don’t yell at him over it,” she added. “I don’t want him feeling—”
“Bad,” Niall said. “Ye don’t want him feeling bad, he doesn’t want ye to feel bad, either, an’ ye’re both circlin’ the drain.”
She nodded and started crying again.
There was another knock on the door, and both Niall and Doug said, “Come in.”
Doyle appeared, smiling, then frowning when he spotted her tears. “Did you two sadists start without me? Dammit, that’s not fair.” He flashed her a playful smile.
She couldn’t help it—the look on his face made her laugh, which made her snort and laugh some more…and then she started crying again when she realized how long it’d been since she’d been able to laugh like this with her friends.
Or…with anyone.
She and Kel used to laugh all the time.
Doyle joined them, sitting on the far end of the couch while Niall took another chair and Doug passed her more tissues.
“Been a rough eighteen months, hasn’t it?” Doyle gently asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Doug, you went over the rules?” Doyle asked.
“Yep.” And he filled Doyle in about the handshake.
He sighed. “Well, then I guess we need to get started for today.”
She’d thought they’d want to talk to her about her anorexia, but they actually walked her through her relationship with Kel.
Specifically, their BDSM relationship.
It felt weird talking about this, but it’d been a topic most of her other therapists had stayed far away from, focusing more on the vanilla side of their marriage and treating their M/s dynamic like it was nothing more than a sexual preference, like preferring missionary to doggy style, and not actually their main relationship dynamic.
“I remember your collaring,” Doyle said partway through their discussion. “I was visiting friends in Sarasota and was actually here for it. I also remember one of your vows to him was to protect the property, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, her tears renewed. “To protect what’s His to the best of my abilities,” she quietly said.
“Do you feel you’ve done that?” Doyle asked.
She slowly shook her head. “No, Sir.”
“Are you really ready to work with us to try to make that happen?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Are you wanting to do this for you, or for him?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m ready to do it for me.”
Doyle passed the metaphorical baton to Niall.
Niall spoke up. “We’ve decided we’re goin’ to give ye a few mantras we want ye to say every day, mornin’ an’ night, an’ at any time ye feel ye doubt yerself.” He sat forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “Close yer eyes an’ sit back an’ listen to the sound of my voice…”
By the end of their session, Niall had not only hypnotized her, he’d used it to help her memorize the mantras.
I am enough.
I am more than my body.
Kel has always loved me the way I am. He fell in love with me the way I was. I am, and always have been, good enough for my Master.
My friends love me.
The last one, which really made her cry. It’s not my fault. I did nothing wrong.
Meaning losing their baby.
Because despite knowing the truth, knowing th
e doctors told her it just happened, yes, she did still feel it was her fault.
How could she not?
“One more thing,” Doug said. “You will have contact with Kel at least once a day until you’re living together again. Either talking to him on the phone, or seeing him in person, or both, if you wish.”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
The men exchanged a glance. “Are we good, gentlemen?” Doug asked.
“I think so.” Doyle glanced at his watch. “And I have a plane to London to catch, so I need to get moving.” He stood and opened his arms to her. “You can say no to hugs.”
She stood and hugged him, closing her eyes and sighing as he actually hugged her. “Promise me you guys will work with Kel on trying to get him to see I’m stronger than he thinks I am.”
“We will,” Doyle said when he released her. “But I think seeing you healthy and thriving will go a long way to helping him with that.”
Chapter Six
After Mal consulted with the dietician, Doug walked Mal out to his SUV and opened the passenger door for her. “What’s your preferred grocery store?”
“There’s a Publix not far from my house.”
“Sounds good.”
This would be the first time she’d been to a grocery store in over a year, and the first time she’d visited one without Kel since before losing the baby.
She stared at the papers in her hand, the meal plan. It wasn’t an unfamiliar diet regimen, because she’d been through this before.
Still, this time felt…different.
The last time, Kel had brought her home, settled her in, then went to the store for her and bought everything on the list and then some, and then had assumed full responsibility for cooking every meal for her and counting every calorie that went into her mouth.
Going far beyond the therapy plan put forth to involve him in her care and taking charge of every aspect of it.
This time, she was in charge.
Completely.
Doug grabbed a grocery cart and followed her into the store, apparently not in a rush from his leisurely pace.
“I won’t get you in trouble by delaying you going home, will I?” she asked.
He smiled. “No. Sir knows I’ll be late, plus I texted him before we left the office.” His smile faded. “Stop, girl,” he quietly said.
Heat filled her face and she had to bite her lip not to lie and ask what he meant.
She knew what he meant.
And from the level, steady gaze he’d fixed on her, she knew he had her number.
“Sorry, Sir.”
He continued to study her for a moment. “You were worried about inconveniencing me, right?”
She nodded.
“I wouldn’t be here if that was the case. That’s why you’re to call or text us, day or night. Even if it’s in the middle of the night or in the middle of the day. That’s why we have a group text thread, so that we can see if someone’s responded to you, what’s been said, and we can give you the intensive help you need right at that moment while keeping you at home.”
“I really appreciate this,” she said. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do for you guys, but I like babysitting, if you ever need a night out.”
He patted her shoulder. “We might take you up on that, one day. For right now, I’d rather focus on you and making sure you’re on the right path.”
He let her lead the way through the store, not dictating what she should buy, apparently in no hurry as she took her time to study labels and compare options to get everything she needed for the next week.
She also picked up coffee, and then stopped at the dairy case and stared at the flavored creamers. During the worst of her struggles, she would stand there and practically drool over them before forcing herself to move on because she knew how many calories were in every tablespoon of the delicious nectar.
Or if she did use one in her morning coffee, she would spend an hour running to burn off the calories as punishment for drinking it.
Before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed a bottle of French vanilla-flavored creamer and tucked it into the cart.
Doug wore a little smile. “Feel better?”
“What do you mean?”
“Every time we’ve come close to this section, you were looking at it.”
She started to deny that when she really thought about it.
Before everything happened, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Hell, she’d usually kept two or three different flavors in the fridge and rotated through them. Kel loved them, too.
Like so many other things, flavored creamers had gone by the wayside when her descent into her self-made hell began.
And that’s what it felt like—hell.
“How long until I can just do things again without thinking about them, do you think?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have an answer for you there.”
* * * *
When they returned to the house Mal got it unlocked and turned off the alarm while Doug started carrying in her groceries. When she started helping him unload the car, he tried to protest, but she stopped him.
“They’re my groceries, Sir, and it’s my house. I’m not an invalid. I appreciate the help, but please don’t stop me from helping when I can.”
He smiled, nodding. “Duly noted, and congratulations.”
“What do you mean?”
“Standing up for yourself. Master doesn’t mean you’re a doormat for him, even for ‘good’ stuff.”
“Then please teach him that. I feel guilty if I try to stand up to him when he’s trying to help.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“You specifically said you feel ‘guilty.’ Why guilty?”
She froze, thinking about it. “I…I really don’t know.” She stood there for a moment, trying to dig into it. “I’ve never thought about why I feel guilty. Maybe because I’ve put him through so much already?”
He opened the front door for her and closed it behind her despite the bags he was holding. “I’ll make note of it, and it’ll be one of your topics on the phone tomorrow with Doyle.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She set her bags on the counter and started unloading them. “Did I make a mistake asking him to move out?”
“You didn’t ask him to move out, did you? I thought you just asked him to sleep at the apartment.”
“I don’t know if I really clarified that to him, though. I mean, I think I did, but I could be wrong.”
“Then I guess you have your first topic of conversation tonight with him on the phone, don’t you?”
“If he’ll talk to me.”
A dark scowl momentarily furrowed his brow. “If he won’t talk to you, text us immediately. Or call me if none of us respond within five minutes to your text. In fact, new standing rule—if you need us, and you text us and one of us doesn’t respond, you will call me. If you do call me and I don’t pick up, you are to leave a voice message. At first, you are to default to that, even if you aren’t sure if it qualifies as urgent. We can fine-tune that later.”
She started to protest, to qualify it regarding time of day, and realized no, she didn’t have to. It was taken out of her hands. “Yes, Sir.”
Once Doug left she finished putting the groceries away. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but she knew she needed to drink one of her shakes. She’d had to get her body back in the habit of eating. Normally, she ate every two to three hours at the center, but the shakes were an easy way to add calories on a day like today.
The meal plan was designed not just for caloric intake, but to gradually increase the volume she could eat, adding healthy snacks between meals. This meal plan was for two weeks, and the dietician would work with the men and with her to alter it based on her weight. After that, she finished putting away her things.
Being home almost felt…weird.
Good, but strange.
The emotional tug of not having Kel here on
ly added to that. But she knew the men were right and had confirmed a suspicion she’d had for the past couple of months and hadn’t been able to verbalize before.
Kel couldn’t do this for her, and that’s what he’d tried to do. She’d let him do it, too, which hadn’t helped either of them.
She started a load of laundry and had herself another cry when she held one of Kel’s dirty shirts to her face and inhaled.
If I have him come home right now, I’ll give in and let him take care of me, and the cycle starts again. I can’t do that. I’m not strong enough yet.
Once she had everything put away, and finished a couple of other chores, she knew she needed to eat dinner.
She pulled out the meal plan and started making dinner. Chicken breast, but she cooked a couple of extra breasts so she’d have them ready to go for other meals just by reheating them. Some pasta—making extra. A bag of steamed veggies done in the microwave, which again would give her leftovers. A portion of hummus and guacamole with pretzel crackers.
By the time she was ready to eat, she was a little hungry, and she’d already created enough for tomorrow’s lunch.
She took a picture of everything and texted it on the group thread before uploading the picture to her tracking app.
A shower in her own bathroom felt…no shit, amazing. It was actually hot water that she could feel versus the borderline but not quite hot enough safe “hot” water at the facility.
Once she finished she pulled on one of Kel’s T-shirts and nothing else and stood in front of the full-length mirror.
I am enough.
I am more than my body.
Kel has always loved me the way I am. He fell in love with me the way I was. I am, and always have been, good enough for my Master.
My friends love me.
She dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. It’s not my fault. I did nothing wrong.
On that note, she walked out to the living room, pausing at the nursery door on her way. She still couldn’t bring herself to go in there, and it was on the list of things they’d be addressing with her as they worked through this process.
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