Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  He grabbed the phone out of my hand, and I listened to the one-sided conversation.

  “No, I’m not cutting again,” Sloan said quietly.

  I observed my boy rolling his eyes and sticking out his tongue at the phone. It was kind of funny until I heard his next sentence.

  “He’s not hurting me, Dad. I was in a bar fight last night, and I scraped my shoulder on some bricks. Cole is delusional.”

  Sloan paused and then said, “There’s no need to have an intervention. I am fine. Cole is the one who’s lost his mind.”

  I moved closer and put my arm around Sloan, sticking my ear up to the phone so I could hear Joe’s ongoing tirade.

  “Cole seems to think you’re cutting yourself again.”

  “Cole wants to keep Trent and me apart so he can weasel his way back into my life. Do you have any idea what he’s proposed, Dad?”

  “Tell me,” Joe said.

  I signaled Sloan to put the phone on speaker so I wouldn’t miss a thing. He pressed a button, and Joe’s voice came through loud and clear.

  “Cole wants to stay married, but he also wants the benefit of having me on the side as a lover.”

  “That rotten piece of shit.”

  “I knew he wouldn’t tell you the whole story.”

  “How could he? He should be ashamed, and his wife shouldn’t have to put up with his crap.”

  “Newsflash, Dad. It was her idea.”

  “What? How could any self-respecting woman agree to that kind of an arrangement?”

  “Supposedly, it’s okay to have a little something on the side in Japan.”

  “Have they looked out the window lately? This is the US of A, and over here it’s not okay to have a lover on the side!”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “He got all wigged out when you turned him down?”

  “Yup.”

  “So he came up with this story about you cutting again?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, fuck him. As long as you and Trent are okay, then I’m going with your story.”

  “That’s big of you, Joe,” I interjected, unable to keep my mouth shut for one more minute. “You have the fucking nerve to call here and presume Cole is telling the truth without even asking us first?”

  “I called to get your side of things, didn’t I?”

  “You’d made a judgment without any proof.”

  “Chill out, Trent. I’m just watching out for my kid.”

  “Your kid is almost thirty years old and really doesn’t need your protection any longer. Not when he has me!”

  “So what are you―his husband?”

  “As soon as he says yes to my proposal, I will be. Now that we can get married in this state, you can bet your ass we will.”

  “Whoa,” Sloan exclaimed, looking at me with eyes that looked like big gray marbles.

  I winked at Sloan and continued. “It was nice talking to you, Joe. We’ll catch up another time.”

  I disconnected and faced Sloan. He appeared shell-shocked by my statement. “Were you serious?”

  “Damn right, I was!”

  “You don’t mean a collaring, do you? We’re talking bona fide wedding with rings and tuxedos and a marriage license?”

  “I thought we’d go for a more casual look, but if you want to play dress up we can.”

  “This is so sudden,” Sloan said, grinning. He threw himself at me and latched on like a limpet. “We’re engaged?”

  “Yes.”

  “ZOMG.”

  “No text-speak please.”

  “What an understated proposal.”

  “You were expecting a big party?”

  “No, but a romantic dinner would be nice.”

  “You haven’t said yes.”

  “Of course I’ll marry you.”

  “Are you sure I’m what you want?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Let’s do it in early summer.”

  “That’s four months from now.”

  “Is that too soon or not soon enough?”

  “It doesn’t give us much time to prepare.”

  “Don’t turn this into a spectacle, Sloan.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither, so don’t take all the fun out of it.”

  “Are you going to go bridezilla on me?”

  “Not unless you burst my bubble of happiness.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  We melted into each other and had an appropriate engagement kiss. After we parted, Sloan asked if we could go back to The Tavern. “I want you to meet Bryce.”

  “I’ve already met him, remember?”

  “I want to hear more about this Cara thingy.”

  “What thingy?”

  “About us being soul friends.”

  “I know we’ve got a connection.”

  “It sounded way cooler when he explained it.”

  Loud banging interrupted my train of thought, and I cussed my way to the front door. I was surprised to see Max. “We never got the memo.”

  “What are you talking about?” Max huffed. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

  “Why are you here, and more importantly, how dare you give Cole and Noriko my address.”

  “How dare I? I’ll tell you how dare I,” Max growled, muscling through. “Cole said it was a fucking emergency because he’d been trying to reach Sloan all evening. I haven’t seen either one of you since you took off yesterday afternoon. How was I supposed to know that everything was kosher?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t.”

  “Precisely, so don’t be huffing and puffing.”

  “My house, my right.”

  “Where is Sloan anyway?”

  “He must be changing.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “He’ll be right out.”

  “This can’t wait.”

  “Max, hold on,” I said, getting irritated again. I was talking to an empty space because he’d walked into the bedroom without even knocking. I followed close on his heels and saw him get right in Sloan’s face.

  “What’re you doing here?” Sloan asked, clearly confused by his appearance.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  “Why?” Sloan asked, instantly on the defense.

  “Your dad called and said―”

  “Let go of me,” Sloan protested, struggling with Max, who was pulling at his shirt.

  “If you don’t let go of him right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

  “Trent, if you have nothing to hide, then this shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I stepped in front of Sloan to protect him from Max’s grabby hands. “Who appointed you bodyguard, and how dare you insinuate there’s even a problem.”

  “Look, Joe asked me to come over and see for myself to make sure he wasn’t being abused.”

  “Abused?” I snarled in his face. “You think I would fucking abuse him?”

  “Max, you’ve lost your mind,” Sloan interjected, sliding in between us before things got really ugly. “Noriko saw a few scratches on my shoulder and turned this into a witch hunt, with Cole’s permission, no doubt.”

  “Given your history, it wasn’t unexpected.”

  “My ancient history you mean?”

  “Once a cutter….”

  Sloan rolled his eyes. “Trent and I had a scene last night, not that it’s any of your business, but you know damn well that edge play has nothing to do with reality. Is this what you wanted to see?” Sloan asked, tearing his shirt off in a dramatic gesture.

  Max looked at the gashes on Sloan’s shoulder and glanced at me. “How long have you been doing knife play?”

  I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was starting to realize his mistake. However, it did nothing to squash my anger. “You don’t deserve an explanation, but I’m giving you one anyway. Sloan and I are in a serious relationship, and we’re both consenting adults
. I know what I’m doing, and trust me, Max, he’s not being abused.”

  Max had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  “You should be, you meddling yenta,” Sloan muttered.

  “Really, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Call my dad and tell him everything’s fine.”

  “That goes without saying. Are you guys ever going to speak to me again?”

  “You still sign our paychecks, so yeah,” Sloan quipped, “we have no choice but to play nice.”

  “You little shit.”

  “Honestly, Max. After what you and I went through, don’t you think I would have screamed the house down if Trent were hurting me?”

  “You are rather vocal.”

  “Seriously, dude. You need to latch on to another cause, like saving the whales or the fucking environment. Just leave my sorry ass off your radar for a change.”

  Max nodded and walked out of the apartment.

  Chapter 21

  “WELL, IF it isn’t my famous young friend and himself.”

  “Famous?”

  “I googled you.”

  “I’m just a lucky guy.”

  “You don’t know your own worth, lad.”

  “Thank you,” Trent said, nodding, “that’s what I tell him every day.”

  “You remember Trent, don’t you, Bryce?” I said, sliding onto one of the barstools. Trent took up the spot beside mine.

  “Aye,” he said, while wiping up the counter in front of us with a damp rag. “What can I be getting you gents?”

  “We’ll have two pints.”

  “Have you recovered from yesterday’s pole-axin’, then?”

  “Barely, so go easy on me, will you?”

  “Would you rather have a cuppa?”

  “Hell, no. Just don’t pour in a steady stream.”

  Bryce burst into contagious laughter. “I’ll be gentle tonight.”

  The bar was crowded with a nice mix of couples and singles who were probably regulars. Everyone knew Bryce and called him by his first name, comfortable in this neighborly setting akin to that of the old sitcom Cheers. After taking a sip of the Guinness, served in a tulip-shaped glass, I wiped the foam off my lips and asked Bryce to tell us about Anam Cara.

  “It’s nothin’ new.”

  “We’ve never heard the term before.”

  “We Irish believe that when someone shares your innermost feelings and can accept you with all your faults, you’ve found your Anam Cara, your soul friend. The connection is a rare and special gift, but first you have to recognize your own worth.”

  “Can you have more than one Anam Cara?”

  “I don’t know, Sloan. Finding one is hard enough, let alone two.”

  “And the sharing of thoughts and fears is mutual?”

  “Aye….”

  “Is it an instant recognition?”

  “Ah, not everyone is brave enough to recognize it.”

  “Brave?”

  “When you love another, you take a risk. Opening the door to your heart can be a scary thing because you give a stranger permission to get past the barriers you’ve erected.”

  “And it doesn’t always pan out.”

  “That’s why your Anam Cara is so special. You let someone in and hope they like what they see. Once you find the right person, you’ve won the sweepstake of life.”

  “What’s a philosopher doing tending bar?” Trent asked. “Shouldn’t you be sitting in a dark office with a couch and charging us by the hour?”

  “I’m no brainiac, Trent. Everyone knows about the Anam Cara.”

  “Maybe in Ireland.”

  “Not so, mate. There’s many a book written on the subject. One of them is by a bloke called John O’Donohue. You can read up on the whole concept.”

  “We’ll do that.”

  “Are you stayin’ for supper, then?”

  “What do you have?”

  “Here’s a menu,” Bryce said, pushing it across the counter toward us before moving away to tend to another customer.

  “You want to stay?” I never presumed anything with Trent.

  “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

  After scanning the menu quickly, we both decided on cheeseburgers topped with bacon and a side order of onion rings. The fries came with the meal. We found a small table closer to the fireplace and grabbed it while we could.

  “This is a nice place,” Trent commented.

  “That’s why I ended up spending the afternoon here yesterday. It was like being at home.”

  “It does have that atmosphere.”

  We practically inhaled our food, enjoying the satisfying meal with hardly any conversation. When we were done and the waiter had cleared the table and placed two fresh glasses of beer in front of us, Trent asked, “Have you ever felt you were born into the wrong family?”

  “I’m sure I would have done much better in Cher’s household.”

  Trent’s laughter was always reassuring. Knowing I tickled his funny bone was a source of pleasure for me and a welcome relief, because Cole and I were never on the same page in the humor department.

  “Seriously, babe. Sometimes I think I’m a changeling.”

  “Why?”

  “I hated everything about farming. I’d lie in bed at night and wonder if I’d been accidentally switched at birth and given to the wrong parents, but when I found out my mom delivered me at home, my theory fizzled out.”

  “Were you that different from them? You must have something in common.”

  “I have my mother’s blue eyes and my father’s physique, but I dreamed of escaping their simple life for as long as I can remember. It helped that we had a well-stocked library in town, and I became a familiar figure around the aisles. I’d left Illinois long before I actually boarded the bus. My vehicle was literature.”

  “Were they very disappointed when you told them you didn’t want to be a farmer?”

  “I’m sure you got the same reaction from your dad when you told him you didn’t like baseball.”

  “The difference is I would have done it if I were any good. I was desperate for his attention and would have sucked up a career in sports, but my body wasn’t made for that.”

  “Thank Christ or I would have never met you.”

  “Somehow, I have a feeling we would have managed to cross paths regardless.”

  “It took you a while to warm up to me.”

  “You scared me.”

  “Why? I thought I was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Your ability to see right through me was very intimidating.”

  “Believe me, it was purely instinctual. I didn’t lie in bed analyzing your every move. Aside from the physical attraction, I was drawn to you mentally. Everything about us felt right, so I’m glad you overcame the fear and decided to give us a chance.”

  “So am I. Despite the occasional bump in the road, I’ve never been happier.”

  “It’s the soul mate thing Bryce is talking about.”

  “I can only speak for myself, but I’m more comfortable and honest with you than I ever was with Cole. There were certain things I kept from him because I knew he’d disapprove. If that’s what having a soul mate is about, then yes, you must be my Anam Cara.”

  “And you’re mine, Sloan. I’ve never experienced this level of contentment, nor have I ever thought to make it legal.”

  “You know you can always take back the offer if you’re having second thoughts. I won’t hold it against you if it was a knee-jerk reaction to my dad’s accusation.”

  “Your father needs to stop treating you like a child, but he had nothing to do with my proposal. I’ve never been coerced into a decision, especially something this significant.”

  “I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. I’m not your typical sub, and you know it.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, babe. It’s the atypical part of you that keeps me interested. You’re a mental and physical challenge.”<
br />
  “What happens when I’m no longer a challenge?”

  “We’ll both be dead.”

  I grinned. “That bad, huh?”

  “You’re a handful, babe, but I love you, so that makes it worthwhile.”

  “Take me home, Master.”

  “Yes.” The heat radiated between us as the fire I’d lit with my words reflected in his stormy blue eyes.

  We left a huge tip and walked out the door without saying goodbye to Bryce. He was nowhere in sight, and I didn’t want to waste another second looking for him. I knew we’d be back, anyhow. I had a feeling this bar was going to become a new addition to our lives, and Bryce might even turn into a good friend. He’d certainly proven his worth so far. Trent and I wouldn’t be together tonight if he hadn’t called him yesterday.

  Trent whistled down a cab despite the short distance to his place. It was cold, and neither one of us felt like dealing with snowy sidewalks and frozen faces. Not to mention the more pressing concern in and around the groin area. We held hands in the cab and restrained ourselves until we unlocked the apartment door. After that, it was a contest to see who could get naked faster.

  Trent peeled off my clothes, arousing me with butterfly kisses that grazed my ears and my neck. I closed my eyes and stopped thinking about Dominants and submissives and simply enjoyed Trent, my lover. He was gentler tonight, and I relished his tender touch, interspersed by loving words meant to reassure me and leave no doubt that he was as invested in me as I in him. After slicking us both with the lube he’d tucked under the pillow, he thrust into me bare, leaving off the dreaded latex glove and with it the mindset of doubt that had stained our lives for the past few weeks. It didn’t take long before we were cresting in a spectacular joining of fluids, calling each other’s name, and reaffirming our love.

  I was floating on a post-orgasmic high, cradled in Trent’s arms, and half-asleep when I heard him whisper. “In the interest of full disclosure, and to show my appreciation for your honesty and willingness to commit, do you want to know why I’m so resistant to anal sex?”

  My eyes flew open, and my brain kicked back on. “Is it because I’m too big?”

  “Your size is daunting, no doubt there, but that’s not the real reason. It’s because I’m damaged.”

  “What?” I turned around so I could look into his eyes. “Were you raped?”

  “No.”