Fragile: Book One in The Everett Gaming Series

by Sera, Drew

  “Okay, baby. How about we leave the bathroom light on and the light in the sitting room. Will that be better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Anthony took care of the light in the sitting room while I got the bathroom light. He and I went to the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar. We were exhausted.

  “Are you alert enough to drive home? If not, you can crash here.”

  “I’m good. I’ll make it. Call me if anything comes up, Col. I’ll be here no matter the time.”

  I walked him out and then headed back to the great room to call Matt. He was going to call around 9:00 p.m. but I didn’t want the ringing phone to wake her up, so I called him.

  “How’s our patient?”

  “She’s okay. She ate crackers and a grilled cheese sandwich. The antibiotic just about caused her to shut down though.”

  “She associates terrible things with pills. She will get there, Col. Be patient with her.”

  “I will be. Hey, can I borrow Gina tomorrow? I need help getting Sydney some clothes and other necessities.”

  Matt laughed. I wasn’t in the mood for games and sighed. Thankfully I didn’t have to ask though.

  “Anthony beat you to it a while ago. He sent me a text saying he was going to pick some stuff up for Sydney and might need Gina’s help.”

  Now I laughed. “Really? He’s been really good around her, Matt.”

  “I know, I watched him at the hospital. I think your fragile kitten is pulling the gentle side out of our tough guy. Hey, get some rest and I’ll be over late morning. Call me if you need anything.”

  Anthony was a very serious Dom and didn’t tolerate any shit. He’s also never had any sort of relationship that has lasted longer than the scene or past him blowing his load. I’m not saying that he was selfish, he just hadn’t found the right person to open up to. He was very attentive with the subs he and I played with and took very good care of them during and after the scenes. He paid close attention to their needs and he knew their limits. Anthony was tough and intense. He also wasn’t a shopper by any means. He dressed in the nicest clothes and was always fashionable but that was because he had a personal shopper. What intrigues me though is that he feels compelled to go shopping for our fragile kitten.

  Before I went to bed, I stopped and checked on Sydney. She was sleeping soundly in a curled up, semi face down position and was holding the blanket close. I snapped a picture and sent it to Anthony so he would be able to see that she was able to sleep.

  Around midnight, I came downstairs to check on her. As I neared her room, I could hear sounds of her being sick in the bathroom. I entered the room and saw her bed was empty and headed towards the attached bathroom. She was leaning over the toilet with what looked like dry heaves. When she saw me standing in the doorway, she held her hand up thinking that would prevent me from entering the bathroom.

  “Colin, you don’t want to come in here. I’m sick.”

  I raised my eyebrow at her attempt to keep me out but entered and knelt down beside her. Her stomach had been calm since I arrived, so I sat down leaning against the tub and pulled her to sit next to me.

  “You being sick won’t stop me from being here for you.”

  After a few moments she gave in and leaned against me. We sat like that for a long time and I changed her bandages while we were in the bathroom and then I tucked her back in bed.

  “Baby, I’m going to sleep on the couch in the sitting room. That way I can be right here if you get sick or need anything.”

  She was too tired and weak to argue and had fallen back to sleep quickly. I settled in on the couch and thought about what could have happened if Sydney hadn’t sent me that text Sunday evening.

  Chapter 26

  Tuesday, October 22nd

  Anthony

  I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours and finally gave up on sleep for the night. I looked at the clock. 2:47 a.m. Fuck. I got out of bed, pulled on some boxer briefs and trudged to the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and sat at the breakfast bar while it brewed. I took my phone off the charger and saw a text with a picture from Colin a few hours ago. It was a picture of Sydney sleeping soundly. I hope they both were getting rest. Colin would be good for her and there wasn’t a better place for her than with him in his home.

  The image of her bound on the floor chained to a heater took over my mind. Her body shook in my arms in the back seat of Colin’s car as she fought to come around. And the blood. When I saw it trickle out of her mouth, I was really worried. From what Matt says, it doesn’t sound like there is any damage to any organs.

  The burns on the back of her neck bothered me the most and made my abdomen ache. That asshole burned her. Bound her in metal and chained her to a heater. Fucking disgusting. I thought back to the cigarette burns on the back of her neck. I knew from experience that those fuckers hurt. I let my mind drift back to when I was a kid and my step-dad would put his cigarette’s out around my belly button. Fucking hurt. Instinctively, I found myself holding my thumb over my belly button. I shook off those thoughts and memories. I refused to allow any more of my time consumed by him and my mom.

  Armed with coffee, I began making a list of things that I wanted to pick up for Sydney. She needs clothes and bathroom things. I don’t want her having to go back to that fucked up apartment for anything. Matt said I could take Gina with me to help make the trip quicker and easier. I wasn’t big on shopping. I had a personal shopper who took care of that kind of stuff for me but I wanted to handle this for Sydney myself. By 4:15 a.m. I had had three cups of coffee and a messy list of things for our fragile kitten. I went back to lie down and watch Sports Center. Next thing I knew, my alarm was going off at 8:30 a.m. telling me to get my ass in gear. I dressed comfortably in jeans and a blue sweater. I was shopping, not going to work. While I waited for my car in valet I sent a few texts. I hoped Sydney was doing ok.

  AG: Matt, I’m on my way.

  AG: Morning, Col. How’s the fragile kitten?

  I can’t get some of the images of her wounds out of my head. Colin has his hands full though and I need to step it up and help. I drove to Matt’s to pick up Gina in a trance. While I was able to concentrate on the road subconsciously, my mind was elsewhere. It was very tempting for me to stop at Colin’s to check on her. But I knew if I did that, I probably wouldn’t leave right away and then it’d be longer before she had some things. Matt let me in without my having to knock.

  “Gina’s almost ready. Want some coffee?” He asked as I sat down at his kitchen table.

  “No thanks. I’ve already had some.”

  “So, where are you guys going?” He peered over his coffee mug while he sipped.

  “I don’t really know. Wherever Gina says we can get the stuff I want to get. I don’t know a lot of girlie things.” Matt threw his head back and laughed. Fuck this. I was tired and crashing off coffee and was agitated now.

  “I think you know plenty girlie things. You’re the most sought after Dom at Irons. All the Irons girls and boys want to play with you.”

  “Fuck off. Colin’s got his hands full and I want to help. So I’m helping and your riding me.” Why was he busting my balls for trying to help? “It was bad there, Matt. We don’t want her going back to that apartment.”

  I walked towards his window overlooking the golf course. Why does it take women so long to get ready? I could tell Matt was sorry because he approached me with a softer tone.

  “I know you’re trying to help and I think it’s great. You’ve never shown this kind of interest in a woman. I’ve known you for a long time and don’t hit me for saying this, but I think you’re good for Sydney. She obviously trusts you and feels safe around you. And anyone who can cause Anthony Graves to go shopping must be having an impact on him.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for one of his father/son speeches. I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and index finger and when I turned, Gina was standing behind Matt. I was aware that she probably heard me getting jer
ky with Matt. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or make Matt worry, so I pulled my tattered list from my pocket and handed it to Matt. I’d go shopping alone. It’d be better that way anyhow.

  “Can you have Gina write down what stores I need to go to and what sizes to get. I don’t want anything too big. Please.”

  When Matt took the list, I turned back to look out the window.

  “Anth, I didn’t mean to piss you off. I think it’s great you want to help. And I think that for once, you might be thinking with what’s in your chest rather than pants.”

  Was that meant to make me feel better? I turned and glared at him. Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed it off. But this was our fragile kitten and I was damn fucking tired. Gina handed Matt back the paper and then to me. I tried paying attention to what Gina was saying to go along with her handwriting. Fuck me. The handwriting was loopy, bubbly girl handwriting. I’d never be able to figure this shit out.

  Gina thought Sydney was a size two or four, but then it mattered if the jeans were a low rise or regular rise. Then she tried explaining fits: skinny leg, straight leg, boot cut and it went on and on. No wonder it takes them so long to get ready. There were so many things to factor into the decision making process.

  “You can get all the stuff on your list at the mall on the Strip that you go to,” Gina said.

  “Thanks for the info, Gina.” I turned to leave and as I expected Matt was right beside me apologizing again for our altercation. It was fine, I kept telling him. I just didn’t have time or the energy for it.

  “Are you going over to check on her?” I asked him as he followed me to my car.

  “Yes, I was going over after you left. So I’ll be there soon to check on her. Anth, I’m sorry man. I want to make it right with you. I didn’t mean to be a dick. I know you and Colin are both tired and stressed and I didn’t make it any easier this morning.”

  “It’s fine. Just go take care of Sydney. Please.”

  I dropped down into my car and looked at the list again. Unsure of my exact destination and wondering how I’d pull off this list, I glanced at my glove box. I had tossed the keys to Sydney’s apartment that Colin gave me the other night at the hospital in the glove box. And I was about to use them.

  I drove over to her apartment and my plan was a quick in and out. Five minutes, maybe ten tops. My goal was just to get some clothing sizes and a quick glance over of her bathroom items.

  I parked in front of the run down apartments and walked with purpose to her door. As I fished her keys from my pocket, I looked down at the welcome mat. The yellow cartoon sun had droplets of blood on it. Images from Sunday night found their way into my head. I shook them off and went inside.

  Fuck! The stench of a blood and vomit cocktail nearly knocked me over. I found myself standing in front of the mess Sydney had been surrounded by on Sunday night. Scattered near the fluid mess were condom wrappers and even used condoms. Fuck me. The space heater was a few feet away from the mess where Colin had thrown it. I vowed that Sydney wasn’t coming back here.

  I held my breath, jumped over the mess and started opening cupboards looking for cleaning stuff. I found some stuff with bleach and grabbed the roll of paper towels. I began cleaning up pieces of Sydney and tossed all the soiled paper towels in a plastic grocery bag. I passed the dumpster on the way to the stairs and would throw the bag in there on my way out. She had some room spray that I generously sprayed around. There, it smelled like a mix of bleach and lavender.

  I washed my hands and headed over to her closet to do what I came here to do. I kept looking for another closet but it was just a tiny coat closet. I opened it and began shifting through some sweaters and shirts. Most were brands I hadn’t heard of and the material felt scratchy and cheap. A lot of her shirts were a medium and her jeans were a four. Although, most of her clothes seemed too big for her. When I looked at the pant sizes, I noticed that each pair had a small piece of cloth held inside the waist by a binder clip or paper clip. Holy fucking shit. The cloth was in the location where her sides would rub. I flicked my eyes over to the spot on the floor where we had found her. I had to fucking get out of here and hurry it up. I couldn’t stand being in here.

  As I moved hangers along the clothes rod, I noticed the hangers were bent outward on the hook portion to accommodate for the large clothes rod. It was odd and caught my attention. The rod was a modification. There’s no way this was the standard rod. The wooden rod was about four inches in diameter and it sat in heavy-duty metal cups. Really strange. I moved clothes until I came upon what I thought was a purse strap or bag of some sort. But I found that it was neither. It was a leather strap that was wrapped around the clothes rod and was dangling about half way down. It had holes in it, looking like a belt. But I knew that I wasn’t looking at a belt. The heavy strap was bolted or screwed into the back of the wooden rod. I glanced at the opposite end of the closet and found another identical strap. The bottom of the straps were curled. Perfect for two tiny wrists. Instincts caused my stomach to flip and I put my hand over it to settle it. As I looked closer, I realized this clothes bar was up much higher than normal ones. I crouched down to pick up a few of her shoes to look for the size. Size eight. Just as I dropped the shoes, I saw footmarks on the back wall of the closet. While crouching on the floor, it was easy to see what went on in this closet. The sick fuck would bind her hands over head. And those were her footprints on the wall.

  As I made my way to her dresser, I could see her bowl of M&M’s was broken and candy was scattered on the floor next to more used condoms. What the fuck happened that night? I was sick with thoughts that this happened after I dropped her off. That’s what she was worried about on the way home. She knew what was coming. She should have told me or I should have pressed for the info. No way would I have left her here.

  I took another look at the coffee table and the iron rings. This was another modified piece of furniture. She was probably tied to this table too.

  I found her underwear drawer and checked the bras for sizing. Usually I’m a very good judge of bra sizes once I see a woman naked. However, when she was lying bleeding in my arms Sunday night I hadn’t sized her chest up. 34B. Panties were a medium.

  I headed to her bathroom to quickly look at brands. I was surprised to find that nothing was a name brand. Everything was generic or store brand. Probably to save money. There was one luxury item though. It was a bottle of vanilla shower gel from one of those bath and beauty types of stores. I smiled. She scrimped on everything else, with the exception of the vanilla stuff. I took a picture of the bottle with my phone and would find that store.

  I locked up and headed to the mall on the Strip that most of my stuff comes from. My first stop was the lingerie store. She needed bras, panties and soft pajamas. When I walked into the store the women who worked there sized me up. I’d use my charm to get quick, useful assistance.

  “Welcome, may I assist you with your shopping today? Who is the lucky lady you’re shopping for?” The red head asked me as two other sales associates closed in on me. The red head seemed to be a manager or something similar, so I gravitated towards letting her help me.

  “I’m shopping for a cutie. I have very specific items in mind and I’ll admit that I’m lost in this store.”

  “I’ll be happy to assist.”

  “Pajamas. I need at least four pairs or sets and they have to be the softest you have.”

  “Okay, do you want sleep shirts, nighties, nightgowns, shortie sets, flannel, knits, silk or satins or cotton bottoms and tops?”

  What the fuck? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I stared open mouthed at her. She sensed my inexperienced level of shopping for women. I’ve never done it. She smiled and grabbed a shopping bag and led me to the pajama section. It was crazy. I began walking around in a daze feeling the materials.

  “Pant sets. Soft. The waistband can’t be too tight. She’s a medium or a four. I think. But some of her clothes seem big. So, maybe
a small.”

  Miss Red picked up on how serious I was about the elastic waist and how soft it needed to be. She helped me find the softest they had and I picked out various colors.

  “I don’t know if you’re interested, but we have slippers on the wall right over there.”

  “Yes, definitely.” I thought about the cuts on the bottoms of her feet. How the fuck did she even walk without being in pain? “Her shoes are a size eight. So whatever that translates to in slipper size.”

  I picked out two pair and Miss Red took the items to the counter.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Bras and panties. Lots of them. She’s a 34B but it has to be…”

  “Soft. I understand. This table over here is our softest line. They’re made of tee shirt material and are invisible under clothes. Do you know what colors you’d like?”

  I stared at the table. I told Miss Red to get the usual beige and black ones and some blues. As she was gathering the bras and finding sizes, the yellow ones caught my eye and made me think of her welcome mat. I pointed to the yellow and she grabbed two of those.

  We moved onto the panty tables where I thought my head was going to snap off. The amount of options and variety was overwhelming. Men have briefs, boxers, trunks or boxer briefs. Simple and easy. What was laid out in front of me was beyond difficult. It was setting a man up for failure. Miss Red could tell I was losing my patience. It wasn’t her fault. This was just more difficult than I thought it’d be. Luckily she swooped in to help.

  “This table is also our softest line of panties. The bikinis are a good, general middle of the road. Then there are the hip huggers. They’re very trendy right now and a lot of young women love them. We also have thongs and some that are even more revealing and these are the boy shorts.”