Salvage Him (Highland Park Chronicles Book 1)

by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

  "Not sure yet. I have so many things up in the air right now. I need to take a moment and prioritize." He sipped his wine, peering at me over the rim.

  I took another sip.

  "How long are you staying in New York?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "Long enough to get some things taken care of."

  "What things —?”

  "I want a divorce." I blurted it out before he could finish his sentence.

  I bit my lip and hid behind the bulbous wine glass. I downed the rest of it, set it on the table, and placed my hands on my lap.

  He had not said a word.

  I glimpsed in his direction.

  He adjusted the plate in front of him.

  "Say something," I pleaded.

  He cleared his throat and blinked.

  I didn't think he would get emotional about it. A lump formed in my chest.

  "I don't know what to say." He downed the rest of his wine and leaned forward. "How long have you felt this way?"

  "Not long." I averted my eyes.

  "Brooke."

  I owed him the truth, at least part of it.

  "Since we moved to Dallas."

  He sat back.

  “You've been on the road so much. I’ve had a lot of time on my own to realize.” I took a deep breath. "I know what I want my life to look like. Being in Dallas made me realize I wanted it even more."

  "It's something I can't give you?” He stared down at his lap.

  "No."

  "Why?" He stood up. "I mean, how do you know if you haven't even shared it with me."

  "You remember the night you asked me to marry you?" He narrowed his eyes but nodded.

  "You said you would show me the world. I would never want for anything. You would give me my heart’s desire and do everything in your power to make me feel safe." I had memorized his speech.

  "Yeah, I remember." He didn't hide the annoyance in his voice.

  "All of that was amazing, and it was what I wanted, but it wasn't what I needed.” I reached for his arm.

  "You never tell me what you need.” He pulled away.

  "You never ask," I whispered. I looked down at the table.

  Paul stood up and walked away.

  Sadness consumed me and covered my heart. The sudden end of something, the loss. It was a crazy feeling because I knew in my heart that ending it was the right thing, but it was an end to something I had relied on for so long.

  Four years was a long time.

  I pushed away from the table and followed him into the living room.

  "I'm so sorry," I said.

  "For what?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I mean. I tried. You tried. I guess it's over."

  I wiped the tears from my face and stood in front of him.

  "Why are you crying?" His tone was accusatory. "You asked for this."

  "It still makes me sad. I don't want to hurt you." I bit my lip.

  "Well, you know me. I always bounce back." He collapsed on the couch.

  My throat hitched when he reached out to take my hand.

  I sat down next to him.

  He put his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. The couch faced the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the view of Central Park spread out in front of us. I rested my head on his chest.

  "Is this what you really want?" he asked as he tapped his hand on the couch cushions.

  I nodded. His shirt was damp from where my tears fell.

  "Is there someone else?" he asked.

  I blinked, happy he couldn't see my face.

  "It has nothing to do with someone or something else." I snuggled up close to him. "It's just a feeling. You don't need me, Paul, and I don't need you. You should be with someone who needs you. It brings out the best in you."

  "I do love you," he said.

  "I know," I said.

  "I want you to be happy. I don't want to stand in your way." He squeezed my waist.

  I held him back.

  "You deserve to be happy, Brooklyn," he said and kissed the top of my head.

  It was the first time in a long time he'd called me by my name.

  "Thank you." I sighed as an enormous weight lifted off my body. I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  When I woke up a few hours later, I was alone.

  Paul's bags were gone.

  I found my phone and read the text.

  Paul: Stay in town for a few days. I'll have David draw up separation papers and work on the divorce documents. I'll still take care of you financially. I want you to finish the house. We'll figure out what to do with it later. We will talk soon. <3

  Fourteen

  Brooklyn

  I stayed in New York for a month. It wasn't necessary, but I didn't trust myself to go back to Dallas and not want to see Harrison. I thought about him all the time. I dreamed about him. I couldn't go back to him until I could show him I was his and he was mine.

  The first week, he called and texted me a couple of times a day.

  I didn’t respond.

  The second week, communication stopped.

  I wanted him to reach out, stay connected, but I understood why he didn't. I hated that he thought he did something wrong. The time we shared, inside and outside of the club, confirmed in my mind and my heart. I wanted more in life and in my relationship than my husband could give.

  I didn't tell Abbie I was in town until after Paul had left. I met her at a restaurant in Soho. We sat outside and watched the people on the street for a long time before I told her.

  "I have some news."

  "Well, Ms. Brooklyn. What is your news?" she asked.

  "Paul and I are officially separated and getting a divorce." My voice sounded weird. I announced it like I had won a free trip to Bermuda or something.

  Abbie froze but thankfully blinked a few times.

  I sighed.

  If she hadn't, I would have thought she had gone catatonic.

  I let it sink in, and continued to enjoy my pasta.

  "When? How?"

  "That's why I'm in New York. He was coming into town between overseas trips. I asked, and he said okay. We signed the separation papers yesterday."

  "What are you going to do?" She reached out for my hand.

  I took hers.

  Tears filled her eyes. She needed comforting. "What about your job, the money, that beautiful house?"

  "Nothing's happening right now." I squeezed her hand and released it. "He's still taking care of me financially, and I'm finishing the house."

  "When are you moving back?" she asked.

  I sat my fork down and looked down the street. "I'm not moving back, Abbs."

  Her shoulders slumped, and she put her head down. She shook from crying for real.

  Maybe this wasn't the right time to tell her.

  I hugged her to me.

  "Why?" she asked between crying hiccups.

  "Abbie, look at me."

  She wiped her face and stared into my eyes.

  "How do I look?" I asked.

  She reached out and turned my face to the left and then the right.

  "You look happy." She smiled. Then cried all over again.

  I held her to me, trying to keep her quiet.

  The people around us looked worried.

  A bottle and a half of champagne later, I got Abbie calmed down.

  "Are you sad?" she asked.

  "I am. But it was the right thing to do. We didn't belong together anymore." I settled back in my seat.

  "How did Paul take it?" She watched me carefully.

  "He's been incredibly supportive. I think he's actually relieved." I looked away.

  "Prick."

  "Come on, Abbie." I grabbed her hand. "He could have been a prick. He could have been a real ass. It was a blow to his ego."

  "An unexplained ego." Abbie rolled her eyes.

  I laughed and shook my head.

  "He said I could keep the apartment in Dallas until the house is done, and he bought the house for me, s
o he said I could do whatever I wanted with it."

  "What are you going to do with it? You can't live in that huge place all alone."

  "Maybe I'll do what you suggested. Create a BDSM Resort in Highland Park."

  Abbie gasped.

  "What? I'm just kidding."

  "No. Harrison."

  I looked around as if he might hear.

  She placed her hands over her mouth. "What about Harrison? What did he say?"

  "I haven't told him," I said.

  "What? Why not?" she asked.

  "I don't know. I'm scared. I didn't do this for him, but . . ." I studied the ground.

  "But you want him."

  "I want him." The joy and pain in my heart made it hard to breathe. "I want him to be my Dom."

  "You slutty little sub, you," Abbie said with glee. "You have to tell him."

  "I've been trying to figure out how." I shook my head. "After what happened at the club, I'm not sure he even wants to see me again."

  "Wait." Abbie held her hands up. "What happened at the club? You’re holding out on me."

  "Oh, God. I'm not, but it's weird and embarrassing." I motioned for the waitress. She didn't see me.

  "I like weird and embarrassing." Abbie wiggled her eyebrows.

  I shook my head. "You are twisted."

  "That's why you love me. Now, spill."

  I told her about the scene in the club.

  My body tingled as I told her, and it hurt when I thought about the crash after. I loved the way Malcolm had cared for me after we played; it was my favorite part. And after the scene with Harrison, I understood why it was necessary, both for the Dom and the sub.

  I needed all the aftercare he could give me.

  He owed me.

  Punishment would come first.

  I owed him.

  I looked forward to it.

  "Hello," Abbie yelled.

  I blinked and looked around. The restaurant patrons were annoyed at our outbursts. I smiled a sorry to the table next to us and waved at the waitress again.

  "Let's get out of here." I motioned for her to bring the check.

  "What were you thinking about just then?" Abbie fished around in her bag. "You had that starry-eyed look on your face."

  "It's nothing." I shook my head.

  "Was it Harrison? Big, tall, handsome Harrison."

  I rolled my eyes.

  The waitress brought the check. I laid down two hundred dollars on the one hundred and fifty dollar check and pulled Abbie out of the restaurant. We walked up Broadway toward The Village.

  We remained silent, listening to the city. People from New York moved away and had to get used to the quiet. In the past four years, my head was full of noise. The quiet came the moment I met Harrison.

  We ended up on a familiar block.

  "I know where you are going," Abbie said and giggled. "Well, you certainly are embracing the lifestyle again, quickly."

  "I just want to look." I nudged her.

  We stopped in front of a BDSM shop in The Village we had frequented back in the day.

  "I have a feeling Harrison will be a full-service Dom," Abbie said.

  I stopped to look at her.

  "He would provide you with what he wanted." She grinned.

  "I said I was just looking." I blushed and continued in.

  I pushed the door open, and a bell signaled our entry. My gaze scanned the tiny shop. It held every fetish, bondage, and pleasure tool you could imagine; display shelves lined each wall.

  "You know, I could whip you back into shape in no time," Abbie said with a cackle. She picked up a black leather flogger hanging from a hook and swung it in my direction.

  "No, thank you." I grabbed the tails of the flogger and bit my lip as it tickled my hand.

  "Well, hello Mistress Abbie." A pretty blonde in a black latex dress and heels came out from behind a curtain and sauntered down the main aisle of the shop. She stopped halfway, bowed, and lowered her gaze to the floor.

  "Josey." Abbie strutted over to her, leaned in, and kissed the blond girl on the cheek. She ran her hand down her latex covered hip and then smacked her. The sound made both Josey and me jump.

  When it came to subs, Abbie didn't discriminate—men, women, old, young, skinny, and full figured. It didn't matter to her.

  "Josey, this is my best friend in the whole wide world, Brooklyn," Abbie said.

  Josey peered up at me.

  I nodded.

  Abbie pushed Josey in my direction.

  "Nice to meet you." I reached my hand out.

  Josey looked at Abbie who nodded.

  She took it and brought the back of my hand up to her lips and kissed it.

  Abbie hugged her from behind and kissed Josey on the back of the neck.

  I retrieved my hand before Abbie turned this into some ménage à trois lesbian scene.

  I left them alone and wandered around the shop. I touched the soft leather cuffs. I ran my fingers over the rigid collars. Dildoes, butt plugs, and nipple clamps were everywhere. My mind was on sex toy overload.

  "Abbie tells me you live in Dallas." Josey walked over.

  I studied her. She had the creamiest white skin and pouty pink lips. We were the same height. I couldn’t pull off the dress the way she did. It hugged her curvy body.

  "Yeah, I've lived there for about nine months now." I nodded.

  "Well, I'm from a little town not far from there. Red Oak?"

  "I remember Red Oak. I drove through it on my way to a wholesale furniture warehouse in Hillsboro." I nodded.

  "My little Brooklyn here is the hottest interior designer in Highland Park." Abbie joined us, carrying a package of three graduated butt plugs.

  The girl didn't hide her surprise ... at my residence, not the butt plugs.

  "You live in Highland Park?" Josey asked.

  "Yeah?"

  Her demeanor changed. She bowed her head and retreated back behind the counter.

  "What wrong?" I asked.

  "Oh, nothing. Highland Park is not really known for its tolerance if you know what I mean." She picked at her fingernail.

  "Well," Abbie chimed in, "if anyone can shake up that conservative little town, my Brooklyn can."

  "Were you in the community when you lived back home?" I asked.

  "No. Oh God, no. Why do you think I moved to New York?" She giggled and covered her mouth. Her eyes cast down. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Sure." I touched her arm.

  She looked up.

  "Is your Dom into Daddy play or is it a Master/slave thing?" she asked.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  "I don't mean to be nosy, but I heard it’s pretty prevalent in Dallas BDSM." She tapped on the glass counter.

  "No." I shook my head. "I haven't seen much of that, but I'm pretty new in the community down there." I clutched my neck. The room felt stuffy. "Why do you ask?"

  "Well, conservative town. Their idea of kinky sex is fucking someone their opposite. Old guys with young girls, playing out their Daddy fantasies or white guys with . . ." She caressed my arm. "With beautiful African American women playing out some Master/slave thing." Her Texas accent came out on the word thing. "It's not the most diverse part of the world. Keep in mind, that this was ten years ago. I'm sure it's changed a lot."

  "Well, if you ever come back to visit, you might be surprised," I said.

  She nodded and bowed her head.

  We walked around the shop for a while. I understood the Daddy play, but the Master/slave idea had never crossed my mind. The two times I went to Crush, I was the only African-America woman in the place. I pushed the thought out of my head.

  I picked up a blue leather collar. It reminded me of Harrison's eyes, and I was tempted to buy it.

  Abbie purchased the butt plugs and a vibrator with some lube, a weekly purchase for her. Every time the bell on the front door rang, a confused panic course through me. In New York, you didn't worry about social norms. We didn't stray too far
away from our community, and when we did, we didn't stand out. Strange people were all over New York. It was normal. I never felt ashamed of myself or my friends.

  In Dallas, the community was a carefully constructed secret. It would be a new dynamic to navigate. Like returning to being a submissive wasn't complicated enough.

  Abbie knew everyone, and she introduced me like I was her long-lost cousin returning to the fold.

  Outside the store, I stopped and hugged Abbie.

  "What was that for?" she asked.

  "For being the perfect you." I hugged her again.

  She smiled and hugged me back.

  We walked hand and hand through The Village. I loved New York.

  I enjoyed visiting my hometown, but my heart was in Texas.

  Fifteen

  Harrison

  Brooklyn had been gone for a couple of weeks now. I thought about her daily and not because I was in her house. The place didn't quite look like her or feel like her, but it had elements of the real her in it. Not much different from Brooklyn herself.

  The first week, I called and texted once a day. She didn’t answer. It gutted me, but gave a clear message.

  She wasn’t ready to deal with me.

  I didn’t give up; I moved on.

  I thought I would get the chance to meet the real her; I caught glimpses of it when she was here, but now, I wasn't so sure. It hurt to think I would never see that side of her again. I fucking hated it, but I needed to move on.

  "Hey." Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't hear Seth approach.

  I stopped working the bookshelves in the guest room and turned, and stared but didn't speak.

  "I'm sorry." He lowered his head.

  As much as I wanted to punch him in the face, I couldn't. He was inappropriate, annoying, and infuriating, but he was my friend.

  I threw him a bone.

  "Don't worry about it." I hit him on the shoulder and turned back to my work.

  "Oh, Harrison." He wrapped me in a bear hug from behind. "Please forgive me. Please. Please."

  I scrambled to push him off, but the little shit was strong.

  "Okay. You're forgiven; now, let me go."

  He gave me one last squeeze.

  I turned, placed a hand on his chest, and pushed him back.

  "Stay," I said as if commanding a dog.

  He placed his hands in his pockets and grinned.