Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “And in a perfect world, there would be no hunger, sickness, or bigotry. Get real, Cole. You risked it all because you wanted a family. That’s love in my books. And more importantly, you can’t start off by lying to your own kids. That would be fucking stupid.”

  “Filters, Sloan.”

  “Just saying. One lie turns into another and eventually suffocates you. You will tell them you’re gay, right? They’ll understand how they were created once they’re aware of your orientation.”

  “Eventually.”

  “I’ll tell them if you don’t. As their godfather, it’s my duty to see that they grow up to be mentally stable. How do you think they’ll react if you wait until they’re adolescents? It’s ridiculous, and furthermore, do you expect to be celibate until they go to college? How will you explain it if they ever walk in on you and your guy?”

  “I won’t bring anyone home. Ever.”

  “Now you’re being unrealistic.”

  He pushed away from me and picked up Freddie’s leash. “Let’s go, boy.”

  “You can’t ignore this forever, Cole. I plan on having this conversation with you again.”

  “No doubt,” he murmured.

  I didn’t try to stop him from leaving my room. Instead, I watched Cole get ready for bed. There was no reason for me to keep vigil over him; no one would be able to hurt him now that we were behind locked doors, but my default had always been to keep him safe, and I refused to turn away until he was tucked in bed.

  He released Freddie from his harness before he began to undress. I should have averted my eyes when he began to strip, but there was something about Cole’s physique that had always been my undoing, and tonight was no different. It had been a long time since I’d seen him naked, and it was a good thing he couldn’t see me to gauge my reaction. Cole’s face might have shown some signs of aging, but his body was exactly as I remembered, only better. He’d been working out more, so his back was broader, his waist narrower, and his leg muscles more clearly defined. He turned to pull back the sheet, and I caught a brief glimpse of the vivid scar that bisected his stomach, a permanent reminder of a weak moment that had almost cost him his life. My skin prickled as I remembered the horror and guilt running through me when I’d first heard what he’d tried to do. I shook that memory away and shut the door between our rooms. I’d seen more than I wanted to, and it would be a miracle if I got any sleep at all.

  Chapter 11

  THE NEXT morning, Cole insisted on working out before breakfast. He appeared calm and amazingly focused on keeping his routine as normal as possible. I jumped on the suggestion, hoping that exercise would steady my frazzled nerves. They were jangling, and I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it had to do with Cole himself and being back in his life 24/7, or was it the potential danger awaiting us that had led to a sleepless night and long moments of introspection? Granted, the booze had wound me up instead of relaxing me. My dreams were messing with reality, and it was hard to separate the two. I kept reaching for Trent, and the shock of finding an empty space kept jerking me awake like dreaming about falling off a cliff and gasping for breath as I plummeted to my death. It was disconcerting as hell, especially when I picked up my phone and saw nothing in my inbox. I wish I knew what Trent was doing. Did he miss me? Was there even time to dwell on love when he was dodging bullets?

  I’d gotten into the habit of jogging with Trent every other morning, so accompanying Cole to the hotel gym wasn’t such an ordeal. I’d thrown a couple of aspirins down my throat to ward away the beating drums in my brain. I hit the treadmill while Cole did laps in the heated pool. Everything was going fine until he asked me to spot him on the free weights. He was lying on his back with his legs spread apart on either side of the bench as I stood sentinel above his head. It was impossible to keep my eyes away from his crotch, since his damp nylon swim trunks were plastered to his junk. Memories of our sex life slammed into me, and I could feel a stirring in my groin that was unwanted and wholly unexpected. I must have made some involuntary noise, because he paused midlift and asked if there was a problem.

  “No,” I replied coolly, doing my best to mask my voice. This sudden dip into forbidden territory was more terrifying than anything else that had happened since we’d left New York. Trent and I were monogamous, happy, and on the brink of marriage. How could I even contemplate sex with a man who’d ripped my heart to shreds? Fortunately, Cole couldn’t see my face or the bulge at my groin as I struggled to get myself under control. I blamed my slip on pure physical need; my body was used to daily sex. Trent and I had a morning routine that always ended with spectacular orgasms. That was it. Plain and simple, and even as I thought it, Oscar Wilde’s quote came to mind. It was stenciled on the wallpaper in the men’s room at Max’s club. The truth is rarely pure and never simple. The beige wall was covered in quotes written in red script, impossible to avoid when one was engaged in the serious business of taking a dump. I often wondered what it would have been like to befriend a man who could spout wisdom so effortlessly.

  When Cole was done lifting, I went back to the treadmill to sweat out my demons. Once I found my running rhythm, I lost the boner and could concentrate on my breathing. It felt good to knock out the kinks from my travel-weary muscles. We were at the gym for over an hour, and when we finished up, we decided to shower in our individual rooms rather than using the spa, which was just as well. I didn’t need more reminders of what I was missing.

  Breakfast turned into a mini battle when Cole insisted I have more than coffee and the almond croissant I’d grabbed as an afterthought. In a sense, it was a relief to feel old animosities rising rather than deluding myself into thinking Cole had turned into a kinder, mellower individual. He was the same sanctimonious prick I’d known for years, and all thoughts of sex flew out of my head as he berated me like I was one of his children.

  “At least have some eggs for the protein.”

  “Give it a rest, Cole. You know how much I hate breakfast.”

  “It’s the most important meal of the day,” he scolded.

  I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the disapproval in his tone. For years, I’d endured his tendency to butt in to my every move, but those days were behind us, and I no longer had to put up with his well-intentioned, but condescending advice over my lack of enthusiasm for breakfast. The croissant itself was a concession, since I knew I’d never get away with just the cup of joe. I reached for a packet of cream cheese, ripped it apart, and slathered some onto the buttery roll.

  “Are you happy now?” I snapped. “I’ve smeared a tablespoon of cream cheese onto my croissant. There’s your protein.”

  “The amount of protein in that is negligible.”

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  He replied with an exasperated sigh. “It’s a wonder you’re not skin and bones. Doesn’t Trent care what you do and don’t eat?”

  “Trent doesn’t treat me like a child, Cole, a concept you can’t seem to master. He makes recommendations, and I can take them or leave them.”

  “Doesn’t he get pissed if you ignore him?”

  “I don’t ignore him all the time.”

  “He must have the patience of Job.”

  “Whatever. Shall we table this and try to get through the day with minimal bickering? I’ve forgotten how much fun I have under your watchful eye, blind jokes aside.”

  “Honestly, you must bring out the worst in me; I’m not this critical with my other….”

  I snorted. “There is no ‘other,’ because you are a judgmental piece of work, and I’m the only person who can put up with your shit.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  He used his chopsticks like a sword, attacking his Japanese-style breakfast of tuna and rice with a savagery that left little doubt in my mind that I’d struck a nerve. Bryce must have complained about something similar, and I felt sick to my stomach. Why’d I have to be so thoughtless? Was I getting back at Cole because anger was easier to deal with than all the
opposing feelings?

  I reached across the table and held his free hand. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. My remark was unnecessary. I have no right to stick my nose into your love life.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Cole said in between mouthfuls. “I know I can be difficult, and yes, Bryce had a thing or two to say about it, but that’s not why we broke up.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I think you and Bryce are a good match.”

  “You discuss a problem if you want to find a solution. I don’t. Bryce is a great guy, and we remain good friends, but he’s not what I want.”

  I didn’t dare ask the follow-up question because I didn’t want to hear the answer. Ignorance is bliss, and in this case it was the safer option. “What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked instead.

  Cole looked disappointed that I didn’t continue with the topic of his love life, but replied, “We have to go to the bank and get that out of the way. Then I thought we could have lunch somewhere in the Ginza district.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A Japanese version of Fifth Avenue.”

  “On another day I would say it’s a great idea, but I’m not interested in window-shopping. I’d like to talk to the PI who responded to my e-mail from last night. I set up a conference call for two in the afternoon. We should be done by then, right?”

  “I would hope so.”

  “Then it’s settled,” I said, pushing back from the table. “Shall we go upstairs and brush our teeth before we go?”

  “Sounds good,” Cole said. He gripped Freddie’s harness with one hand and held on to my arm with the other. “Lead the way,” he said quietly.

  Once again, the ease of familiarity kicked in as we headed toward the elevators. We knew each other’s habits so well, I don’t know why I’d bothered to ask the question. Cole always brushed his teeth after breakfast, as did I. It was a part of our daily grooming and something I knew he’d have to do before going to the bank. It was funny how quickly I’d shifted from Trent mode back to Cole. It was like unearthing a box of old clothes and finding out they still fit and, even more surprising, fit comfortably.

  We rode to the bank in a limo provided by the hotel, a lovely perk considering the heat and the staggering amount of traffic. Sweltering in a cab would have been awful. There was no denying I’d gotten spoiled since I first knocked on Cole’s door way back when I was a hot mess from Sacramento.

  I had taken a cab from LaGuardia to his apartment the night I first arrived in the Big Apple, and I’d been nervous as hell. The weed I’d smuggled on board the plane had made a swift appearance, and the cabbie and I shared the joint all the way to the West Village, where Cole resided. It was late, and I was literally struck dumb when the door opened and I saw the hottest guy I’d seen in a long time. Cole was the perfect combination of two races. His skin was tea colored, the straight black hair hanging down around his face was courtesy of his Japanese father, and the striking blue eyes glaring at me were hand-me-downs from Eileen, his American-Irish mom. I didn’t know it at the time, but he could barely see, and he didn’t know I was a cutter and hooked on weed. Our fathers, who had played together for the San Francisco Giants, had made the arrangements for us to become roommates, hoping it would be a win-win for both of us. What they hadn’t counted on was the profound effect we’d have on each other. My knees had turned to jelly when Cole barked at me for being so late, even as my body tingled in response to a physical attraction that had overwhelmed me.

  He was in the closet in those days while also battling his looming blindness, and he had a fiancée who had a tendency to mollycoddle him, not at all what he needed. My brand of tough love was much better for him, although he’d crossed over to the dark side kicking and screaming. Once he had admitted he was gay, things fell right into place. We nursed each other toward mental health, and our partnership had been good for a long time.

  Most of my friends couldn’t understand what I saw in him. Disability aside, Cole had an ingrained haughtiness that was off-putting until you got to know him better. He was highly intelligent and had a low tolerance for stupidity. Painfully insecure about his blindness, he used acidic remarks as his shield and made it his life’s goal to be as self-sufficient as possible so people wouldn’t pity him. It worked so well that people stayed away, afraid they’d piss him off by saying the wrong thing or offering help when it wasn’t required. Cole was difficult and demanding most of the time, but he’d been tender and considerate when I needed it. I’d never questioned my feelings for him until he brought Noriko into our lives, and the emotional avalanche that followed had almost destroyed me.

  And yet, here I sat at peace with the man who’d cut out my heart. Was I doomed to love Cole until I died, even while I was in love with Trent? It was a question that had no answer, but reminiscing spurred me to slide my hand across the leather seat and reach for Cole’s. He looked surprised when I touched him, but didn’t pull away. We didn’t say anything, but continued to hold hands until we reached our destination.

  Just before we exited, he reassured me, “Everything will be okay, Sloan. You’ll see.”

  I didn’t know if he was talking about the ransom money, the twins, or our current truce, but whatever the case, I followed in silence, wondering how on earth I’d found myself in this unexpected place. Everything in my life had been so clear two weeks ago, and now it was upended in the worst possible way.

  The people at the bank were kowtowing in typical Japanese graciousness to accommodate Cole. I’d never kept track of his finances; numbers and money really weren’t my thing. His family had boatloads of dough, and since his father passed and Cole was the only male heir, he was, in essence, a millionaire. There was no problem whatsoever putting the ransom together, and they assured Cole that he’d have everything within the next hour. It would be delivered to the hotel by special courier so we wouldn’t have to wait. No one seemed in the least bit perturbed that he’d asked for so much money in small bills. Bankers were the strangest people.

  When we got back to the hotel, we had a light lunch, and then Cole left me alone to deal with my private investigator. Mitsu Adachi was surprised to hear from me after so long, and he was even more curious when I told him I would be in Kyoto the next day and arranged a meeting.

  “Does this have anything to do with our last correspondence?” he asked politely.

  “As a matter of fact, it does.”

  “I thought the issue had been resolved?”

  “It’s coming back to haunt us.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’ll explain everything when we meet in person.”

  “What time do you think you’ll arrive in Kyoto?”

  “If all goes well, we should be at the Hyatt by noon tomorrow. Why don’t you come to the hotel around two?”

  “Very well.”

  Chapter 12

  COLE HAD fallen asleep while I was on the phone with Adachi, so I took the opportunity to send Trent another e-mail. He hadn’t responded to the one I’d sent yesterday, which I found very disturbing. I’d googled the time difference between Tokyo and Kabul, where he was supposed to be stationed, and saw we were only ahead by four and a half hours. It seemed incredible that the time difference wasn’t more significant. Afghanistan was as remote to me as the other side of the moon.

  I needed to hear from my man to pull me back to the world we’d left behind. Trent was my anchor, the one who’d lifted me from the miasma of despair that had enveloped me the moment I’d learned Cole had chosen familial duty over our love. Trent and my relationship was uniquely different from anything I’d ever known before, and the main reason I was able to resist Cole’s attempts at reconciliation. Even the horrific suicide attempt hadn’t derailed me, so why was I so unsettled at this point?

  Being alone with Cole minus the distractions of daily life and Trent’s guiding hand was throwing me off my game. It was too much like old t
imes, and the benefits of feeling needed again were awakening my tendencies to nurture and protect. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that I’d started seeing my ex-lover in a different light. He seemed truly remorseful about our breakup, and despite the occasional sniping between us—a by-product of our years as a unit—I sensed a shift in his level of respect. That he’d followed my advice, allowing me to involve Adachi, was huge. In the past, Cole would have ignored my suggestions.

  And if respect was that important to me, hadn’t Trent shown a lack of respect in the worst way possible? Considering a return to the military career he’d left behind without any regard to how I’d fit into such a life was insulting as well as selfish to the fucking core. Was I doomed to always play second best when I’d given one hundred percent of myself to these men? Perhaps neither one of them deserved me and I should look elsewhere. Right. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t a player, never had been, and the only reason I’d entertained Trent’s advances was because I’d been dumped. And however much Trent rationalized his departure, I was, in essence, being thrown over for a more exciting life. Perhaps I’d been a great distraction in the beginning of our relationship, but we’d settled into a comfortable routine and he no longer felt challenged.

  Was that why he’d pulled that dominant move in the limo on the way to the airport? He’d been shocked by my defiance when he announced his decision to explore reenlistment, and it had resulted in a subtle shift in the D/s dynamic he hadn’t foreseen. Making me blow him on the way to the airport had been more about power than need, and I realized it as soon as I saw the satisfaction on his face when I got down on my knees. Was that the key ingredient? Hadn’t I shown him that, despite my major lack of submissive tendencies, I was willing to play his game? If I amped up my participation in the BDSM scene, would that keep him at home or would it only buy a little more time?