Releasing Me

by Jewel E. Ann

A few hours later, Quinn was in his office sending out emails to arrange for his extended Thanksgiving break.

  “Hey, babe, can I get you anything?” I asked, peeking my head into his office.

  “No, I’m fine!” he snapped. “I’m mean … just give me a minute.” His voice sounded strangled with agitation.

  I walked further into the room and everything about him seemed off. He kept clenching his fists over the keyboard of his computer, and when he released them his hands were shaky. His forehead looked moist as if he was hot and his overall demeanor seemed anxious.

  And so it begins.

  Leaving without saying anything, I went to the kitchen and squeezed him a mix of fresh fruit and vegetable juices high in vitamin C. Then I went upstairs and got him some B-complex and zinc from my bag and a couple of cayenne capsules. When I returned to his office he was leaning back in his chair rubbing his temples.

  “Here, drink this and take these,” I said, setting the vitamins and juice down on his desk.

  He sat up and looked at them with squinted eyes. “Why?”

  I walked around behind him and massaged his head. “You look like you’re … coming down with something. Just thought it might be best to load up on some vitamins, that’s all.” That wasn’t really all. He was starting to have classic alcohol withdrawal symptoms, but I refused to get anywhere near that topic. And offering him a beer to taper off slowly the old-fashioned way was not an option either since he was in denial that he had a problem.

  “Thanks,” he said as he popped the pills in his mouth and drank the juice. “What were the vitamins?”

  “B-complex and zinc to boost your immune system and cayenne to fight off infection.” And decrease your withdrawal symptoms and cravings.

  He spun around in his chair and pulled me on his lap so I straddled him. “What would I do without you?”

  I smiled as his nervous leg was vibrating my whole body. You would be drowning yourself in alcohol to relieve your symptoms.

  *

  Not surprisingly, Quinn didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner. He drank more fresh juice and willingly swallowed whatever pills I put in front of him, which were quite a few. It was a rough night for the both of us as sleep evaded him at every turn. If he wasn’t shaking with tremors, he was running to the bathroom—luckily not to vomit—just to relieve his bladder of all the juice and water I’d been shoving down him. The herbs that I’d given him were also at work, detoxing his liver and cleansing his kidneys. By 4:00 a.m. he was sound asleep thanks to a nice herbal concoction I’d given him an hour earlier. Equally exhausted, I curled up beside him and captured my own needed sleep.

  I woke a little before ten Sunday morning. Quinn was still out and I didn’t wake him. His body needed the rest to repair damage that had been done over months of abuse. He also needed sleep to reduce his anxiety and help prevent depression. After easing out of bed, I went downstairs and called Mac to let her know we were going to stay in New York a couple more days before flying to Chicago. It required more time to get Quinn in better shape. I cleaned up the juicing mess in the kitchen after I got off the phone with her. Just as I was finishing, I heard the water running upstairs. As soon as I finished wiping off the counter, I grabbed a glass of water and carried it upstairs. Quinn was sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel around his waist and water from his freshly showered head dripping down his torso. Hunched over, he had his elbows on his knees and he was looking at his hands; they were shaking. He fisted them several times then ran them through his hair as he sighed. A moment later he looked up at me and jerked his head back with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see me standing there watching him.

  Lowering his chin to his chest, he released a long slow sigh. My heart clenched in pain. “It’s not the flu, is it?” he asked in a thick voice.

  I shook my head and set the glass of water on the end table. Standing in front of him, he pulled me between his legs and wrapped his arms around my waist so tight, I could barely breathe.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Quinn

  How the fuck did I end up like my father? I was a self-made millionaire with razor sharp instincts. I’d traveled the world in search of extreme adventures. I had worked my ass off to keep my body in top physical condition. I was envied by men and sought after by women. I was educated, disciplined, and focused. Yet, here I was, a complete fuckup clinging like a child to Addy. Fucking Addy. I loved her and hated her. She worshipped me like a sex god one minute and could turn around and completely emasculate me the next.

  She had some nerve showing up at my door and making my life a living hell. I was perfectly content numbing my emotions with booze and then fucking the first girl who made my dick twitch. At least until she showed up. She was like a virus that consumed my whole being. Night after night I slept in the most uncomfortable goddamn chair while the woman I was supposed to be fucking slept in my bed because the girl I wanted to fuck was in the next room. Never in my life had I met someone as relentless as her. She never gave up on me and the scary part was she knew me better than I knew myself.

  Even after physically removing her from my condo, she managed to push all my buttons by inviting fucking Jake for a visit. I had no right to be jealous, but the thought of her under some other guy—making the noises of pleasure that belonged to me—made my fucking blood boil. Backing down was not an option. Nothing he did to me even came close to causing as much pain as her admission that she’d been with him. The hardest part to swallow was that she never would have been with him if I hadn’t blamed her for everything, if I wouldn’t have brought home some random girl in my drunken state and made her leave me. She was broken when I met her, and I should have been her rock of support, but instead I was the rock that continued to crush her over and over again. I tried to let her go. She deserved someone better than me. But I needed her too much. She was giving and nurturing. Above all, she loved me … she truly, no-holds-barred, one hundred percent loved me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Addy

  My broken man. My conscious, broken man. Quinn was no longer in denial, and while it broke my heart to see him in pain, it was necessary. I kissed his head and held him to me until he released me. It was what I always did; I held on until he released me.

  “I’m my father,” he whispered into my chest.

  I cupped his face with my hands. “Look at me,” I demanded. His glazed, defeated eyes found mine. “If you love me and fight to get better, then you are not your father. Do you hear me?”

  He searched my eyes and I wondered what he saw. “I love you,” was his answer.

  I hadn’t heard those three words from him in over five months. My tears fell.

  “Oh, baby, no, what’s wrong?” He pulled me down to sit on his lap.

  I shook my head and wiped my face. “Nothing, it’s just … nothing.”

  “Hey, you’re crying. It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

  “You haven’t said those words to me in so long, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed to hear them, until now.”

  “Addy, I know this may be hard to believe, but there hasn’t been a single day, a single hour, a single minute, or a single second in the past year and a half that I haven’t loved you.” He kissed me fervently, melting away my insecurities.

  As he released my lips, I smiled. “Even when I left New York?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even when you came to Milwaukee and Jake handed you a beating?”

  “I’d hardly call a sucker punch to a drunk man a ‘beating,’ but yes.”

  “Even when you were spitting venom at me on the way to your mother’s burial?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even when you kicked me and all my stuff to the curb?”

  “Technically it was the hall, but yes, especially then.”

  “Especially then?”

  “Yes. You are such a sexy fucking tease when you get all stubborn and bullheaded. I was so close to handcuffing you to my bed and
introducing you to BDSM 101 for all the cock blocking you were doing to me. But I love you, so I put some distance between us to protect you.”

  “Wow! I don’t even know where to begin. You think I was the one being stubborn and bullheaded? And BDSM 101 for cock blocking? You brought home every girl on the street and locked me out of this very bedroom, night after night, and yet you felt cock blocked?”

  “Addy—”

  “Who says that?”

  “Addy—”

  “And I am not a tease …”

  “Addy—”

  “And we’ve had this BDSM discussion before, I will not be—”

  “Addy!”

  “What?” I finally snapped out of my tangent.

  “I. Love. You. Always.”

  *

  The following two days were spent working through Quinn’s withdrawal and detox symptoms. We were able to be more aggressive since there was no longer a need to pretend we were treating the flu. Herbalist Addy took over. Juice cleanse, herbal tinctures, coffee enemas, detox teas, sauna, massages, and acupuncture treatments kept Quinn not only on his way to a speedy recovery, but it also kept him busy and less irritable. I had something for everything. Herbs to lessen the cravings and reduce the withdrawal symptoms. Herbs to repair the damage to his liver, colon, esophagus, stomach, and intestines. Other tinctures were used to correct biochemical and neurological imbalances.

  He was the perfect patient. The natural cleanse kept his libido intact, which is not the case with all recovering alcoholics. However, it was yet another activity to pass time and reward his hard-working nurse. We were far from recovery, but by the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, we were both looking forward to our trip to Chicago and a change of scenery. As we packed for the trip, I came across an envelope with Quinn’s name on it. I immediately recognized it as the letter Elena left for him, and the seal hadn’t been broken.

  “You haven’t opened this yet?” I asked as he set out his clothes on the bed.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighed. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t want to read her reasons or excuses for doing what she did. And, as you know, I was drunk and pissed at her and …” he paused.

  “Me,” I whispered. “You were pissed at me.”

  He turned and looked at me with a sad smile. “Addy, I’m sorry. I was in a bad place at the time and—”

  My wince mirrored his. “It’s fine. I understand. For what it’s worth, she left me a letter too that I have yet to read.”

  “My mother left you a letter? Why would she do that? You were with her when she died.” He looked at me with narrowed eyes, head tilted.

  I zipped up my bag and sat on the edge of the bed next to his pile of shirts. “That’s part of the reason I haven’t read it yet. I think it’s meant for me to read in a time of desperation. I imagine the page is filled with words of wisdom that will pull me back into the light from the depths of Hell.” I laughed. “Or maybe it’s just a list of things I was supposed to do before leaving the beach house … like take out the garbage, empty the refrigerator, and clean the toilet. If that’s the case, then oops.”

  Quinn threaded his hangers through the opening in his garment bag. He traveled business-style—everything permanent-pressed, starched, and neatly on a hanger. I traveled like a teenage girl packing for a slumber party—everything wadded and shoved into a bag. Talk about yin and yang.

  “If you were saving it for a desperate time in your life, then I can’t believe you haven’t read it yet. Surely over the past few weeks you’ve felt close to hitting rock bottom.”

  “Olivia accompanying you into your condo came close, but not quite.” I smirked.

  “Olivia? Are you serious? Not throwing you out, or my illusions of indiscretion, or the fight between me and Jake, or my substance abuse?”

  “No, just Olivia. She’s so vexatious. I’m the worst version of myself around her. She’s an antagonist to my ego.”

  He plopped down beside me and pushed me back so he hovered over me. “You have no reason to be jealous.”

  “Jealous? You think I’m jealous?” I scoffed. “She may have finagled you a backstage pass to a few uppity fashion shows, but I’m the one who gave you step-by-step instructions on using an enema bag for your coffee enemas.”

  He fought to keep a serious face. “You’re right. I don’t recall the backstage security offering helpful tips such as properly lubricating the nozzle to prevent rectal tearing while entering the anal sphincter.”

  Fighting my own goofy smile, I returned with my best matter-of-fact reply. “Indispensable knowledge.”

  *

  Journal Day 95

  Grateful for sober Quinn meeting the rest of my “family.”

  We arrived at Mac and Evan’s by dinner Wednesday night. They welcomed Quinn with warm affection, as if our relationship hadn’t just recovered from the most unpropitious circumstances. After dinner we relaxed in the living room by the fireplace. Dressed for comfort in a long sweater, leggings, and thick wool socks, I curled up on the sofa next to Quinn while Mac sat on Evan’s lap in an oversized chair. The wind gusted, producing an occasional screeching whistle around a few of the windows. We listened to a classical mix of piano music flowing through the surround sound. Mesmerized by the brilliant orange and red glow of the embers that illuminated the room, I yawned in exhaustion from a full tummy and a long day.

  “Bed, babe,” I whispered as I tilted my head back and kissed the corner of Quinn’s mouth.

  “Mmm,” he hummed.

  “You two skipping out on us?” Mac questioned.

  “I think so. We were up pretty early this morning and it’s eleven o’clock New York time,” I answered, fighting back another yawn as Quinn stood and offered his hand to pull me up.

  “We’ll see you in the morning,” Evan said with a smile.

  “Goodnight,” Quinn replied.

  Mac scooted off Evan’s lap and embraced me. “I’m so happy you’re here, both of you,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Me too,” I returned with a sincere smile.

  I grabbed two tall glasses of water and followed Quinn to the guest room. He proceeded through his new nightly ritual of taking herbal pills and tinctures.

  “These funky herbs are probably going to become my new addiction, trading one thing for another. I doubt I’d make it through customs with these.”

  I finished rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth. “They’re non-addictive, non-funky herbs, not illicit drugs like marijuana. You’d make it through customs.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

  “I bet you were the nerdy girl in school who never wore makeup, brought natural peanut butter on cardboard-grain bread for lunch, and corrected your teachers by raising your hand and starting every phrase with ‘actually.’” He laughed as he stripped down to his boxer briefs.

  Slipping on a pink tank top I corrected him. “Actually, I was quite the slut in school. I wore a gaudy amount of makeup, miniskirts, and I went braless until college. And after the football games I gave head to the hottest beefcakes on the team.”

  I heard Quinn choking in the bathroom while he brushed his teeth. He walked around the corner wiping his mouth with a towel. “Beefcakes?” He raised his brows and smiled in complete amusement.

  I pulled the covers up to my neck and rolled so my back was to him. “Yes, beefcakes.”

  He shut off the light and crawled under the covers facing me. I struggled to keep a straight face with his shrewd smirk just inches from me.

  “Whatever you say, baby, but if you expect me to believe you, I’m going to need a demonstration of exactly what you did to the beefcakes.” He palmed my butt and pulled me closer until his firm cock beneath his briefs pressed against me.

  Checkmate, Quinn.

  *

  “Rise and shine, beautiful,” the sexiest voice in the world whispered in my ear.

  “Mmm, sounds like the hot beefcake from last night,” I purred as I stre
tched my whole body awake.

  “Everything about last night was hot, except you throwing around that word.” He leaned over and kissed me.

  Peeling open my eyes, I noticed he was showered and dressed. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Long enough to go for a run, shower, and order breakfast.”

  “Where did you order breakfast from on Thanksgiving?”

  “Mac. She said the kitchen didn’t officially open until nine, so I preordered smoothies for us.”

  “What time is it?” I asked as I tried to see over the pillows to the clock.

  “Eight-thirty, why?”

  I let my tongue wet my lower lip. “That gives me thirty minutes to show you just how thankful I am for you this morning.”

  His mouth was on mine in a flash. I tugged at his shirt until he broke our kiss. Crossing his arms, he pulled it off in one quick motion. “Thirty minutes? I can work with that.”

  Wasting no time, he discarded his pants as I shimmied out of my panties and peeled off my nightshirt. As he crawled over me, I pushed his chest until he flopped on his back beside me. I straddled his waist on my knees as he fisted his hard cock and rubbed it back and forth between my folds. The rest of my body started to feel warm and tingly as heat swelled around my sex. The teasing became unbearable, so I wrapped my hand over his to steady it as I prepared to sink onto him. I was desperate to feel the fullness of him buried in me.

  “Addy? Are you out of the shower—” Mac’s voice sounded as the door opened. “Oh holy hell, I’m—”

  “Mac!” I squealed as I jumped off Quinn and frantically tried to pull the covers over our naked bodies.

  She stood in the doorway holding a tall glass in each hand. “Pumpkin spiced smoothies,” she said with a wrinkled face and partial grin.

  My whole body was flushed and blazing with embarrassment. “Mac!” I gritted through my teeth with bugged out eyes while my hands still fought with the sheets to cover us up.

  She wouldn’t stop staring at us. It was like we were animals at a zoo and she was observing our behavior with a casual passiveness and an appreciative grin on her face.