Free and Bound

by Chloe Cox

  Olivia did not know what to say.

  “Simone—”

  “How come you never did that on TV?”

  “I only used to sing with my mother,” she said reflexively.

  “I used to watch you every day after school,” Simone said. “I know that might be weird to say, but I’d almost feel weirder not telling you? I don’t know.”

  She smiled.

  Olivia stared at her. After school? That had been a kid’s variety show; it was her first big gig, the one that started it all, and she was just out of high school when she did it. How old was this woman?

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to sing again,” Simone said. “Whatever the reason was.”

  The reason had been Gavin. He’d made it an order, took the responsibility off her shoulders. She’d been able to go out there and do something she’d dreamed of for years without feeling selfish, or like she was tempting fate with a big old target on her back. Every time Olivia thought about it, she felt warm.

  “Simone, you said you wanted to warn me,” Olivia said gently.

  Simone took a big breath and sighed.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I guess it’s more accurate to say that I wanted to apologize for my behavior and then warn you. I just…”

  Simone looked down, and hunched her shoulders. Suddenly her entire body language changed, and she looked almost ten years younger.

  “I saw how Gavin feels about you last night, and I never should have…I mean, I didn’t mean to mess with anything real, you know? It wasn’t ever about you, or Gavin, really, it’s just so much history, and…God this is hard to talk about.”

  “Simone. What did you need to warn me about?”

  Simone took another deep breath, and seemed to shrink even more. When she looked up, her eyes seemed older.

  “My father’s not going to let this go,” she said. “He can’t. And neither can Gavin.”

  Well, he’d seen this coming. If Gavin wanted to protect Olivia from his past, he was going to have to deal with that past. He grit his teeth, and stepped out onto the porch with a man who looked like he lived the worst day of his life every day.

  “You were here last night,” Gavin said. “All night.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was just a statement that Daniel Delavigne had seen certain things, learned others.

  Daniel looked at him. Every time Daniel did that, he looked like he was outraged all over again.

  “You were the one who got her into this sick…this sickness,” he spat.

  It was almost funny, if you knew the truth.

  Gavin didn’t laugh. He said, “You never knew her at all.”

  Daniel crumpled.

  His shoulders caved in around his chest, and he leaned on one of the arms of the chair that he’d slept in. The hole in Gavin’s heart got bigger, and he instantly regretted saying anything at all. Sometimes the truth only cut deeper.

  Gavin went to put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. Daniel recoiled, his eyes wet with rage when he looked up. All those years of grief crushed into a single hard, sharp point.

  “You did this,” he said. “And now you’re going to do it again.”

  Gavin didn’t move.

  “No,” he said.

  “I heard about you afterwards.” Daniel sneered. “You never settled down. You’re just a dirty sleaze. It was because you never could let them get close, could you? Couldn’t let them see what you really are. Because you knew what would happen if you did.”

  The air rushed out of Gavin’s lungs, and his whole body stiffened. It was like he’d been hit.

  Daniel stood a little taller.

  “But that’s changed now,” he said. “You’re serious with this Olivia woman. You get to live a good life, while my daughter…”

  He blinked once, twice. And Gavin saw that he was going to cry.

  “I’m just saying, don’t fall for him,” Simone said.

  Olivia closed her eyes, and thanked her little brother for teaching her patience.

  “That’s all I’m saying,” Simone said, again.

  “You know, people keep telling me that,” Olivia said. “And I really think I need to hear what more you could say about it, if you wanted to.”

  Simone squinted through her headache, and Olivia sighed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why you think I shouldn’t fall for him,” Olivia said. “But I know the man I’ve gotten to know. I’m not saying I know him perfectly, but whatever he is, he’s at least…that.”

  “Look, these people don’t know what they’re talking about, either,” Simone said. “My father doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Gavin is…I think Gavin is a good man. But that doesn’t mean he’s good at…I don’t know, love.”

  “He’s not good at love?”

  “Or relationships, whatever. Commitment.”

  Olivia studied the other woman while Simone blew on her much-needed coffee and avoided eye contact.

  “Uh-huh. Why now?” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why give me an incredibly vague warning today?”

  Simone cringed, and the bloodshot in her eyes seemed more pronounced. Olivia was actually kind of impressed she’d made it out of bed already. There was no way she wanted to be anywhere other than in a dark room, with lots of water and some aspirin.

  “I saw my father at the party last night,” she said. “And it did not go well. And then, after that, I made some really bad decisions. Now I’m trying to make some good decisions.”

  Olivia remembered what Gavin had said about sobriety and the club.

  “Hoping they’ll cancel out?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Listen,” Olivia said, and leaned forward in the pause, her attention laser-focused on the stupid napkin pieces. Her heart was pounding. “I know there was…an accident, but not…”

  Simone put the cup down. The ceramic click cut Olivia off like a punctuation mark.

  She waited.

  “Well, it’s broken hearts that don’t heal too well,” Simone said. “And sometimes they don’t heal at all. So just watch after yours, that’s all I’m saying.”

  A pause.

  “Did he cheat on you?” Olivia asked.

  Simone choked a bit, put the coffee cup back down.

  “What? No. God, he would never—and no. Gavin and I have never, ever…just, no.”

  “I’m sorry?” Olivia said. “I thought you and Gavin had been…involved.”

  “No,” Simone said, shaking her head at the floor. She shuddered. “I have made many mistakes, but thankfully Gavin kept me from making that one. Ew.”

  Olivia studied the torn up napkin she’d arranged in a neat pile. It was one of those moments when she almost thought she could feel the world spinning underneath her, realigning.

  Bewildered, she said, “I thought…I mean, it’s just obvious that you guys have a history.”

  Simone frowned.

  “It would be more accurate to say that Gavin has a history with my family,” she said.

  She looked at Olivia for a single, pointed beat.

  “My sister,” she said. “Gabby.”

  Olivia sat back.

  “Your sister.”

  “What did you…?”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” Olivia said.

  Simone stared, again.

  “Well, you wouldn’t have gotten much of a chance to meet her,” Simone said. “She’s been dead for ten years.”

  “Of course it’s sick,” Daniel said. “Gabby got hurt. She never would have gone on that trip, but for what you did to her. She never would have…”

  Daniel stopped, with the words caught in his throat. He looked away.

  “But that you got her twisted up in all that and then you broke her heart.”

  Gavin seethed.

  That was the whole point—that was why he’d changed. He hadn’t loved Gabby well enough or right or how she wanted, an
d so she kept trying to up the ante. She’d surprised him with a scene he’d never seen before, and then she hadn’t used her safe word. She’d just kept pushing. He’d had to guess, and then…

  What he wanted to say was that now he knew better. He’d broken it off with Gabby and after that, she’d gone on a bender. Took it too far by half, like she always did. Got drunk and drowned, off a boat in Florida. After that he’d made himself a promise: no strings, no entanglements. No distortions. No reason for a sub to push past anyone’s limits. No one gets hurt.

  Gavin wanted to rage at the world with all his grief, and he’d wanted to do it for ten years. But he looked at the man across from him, still leaning on a chair, and he swallowed it one more time.

  “Both of them now?” Daniel said. He collapsed back into that chair finally, burnt out. “Both of them?”

  “Daniel, it’s not what you think. None of it is. Never was.”

  Daniel waved a tired hand, gave a bitter little laugh.

  “You know who really can’t handle his liquor?” he said. “That Brandon Greer. Gets chatty, too. Told me all sorts of things. Told me about how great Olivia is. Told me she was so great, she was helping you out.”

  Gavin tensed, a wave of prickling awareness crawling up his spine. Olivia again.

  “What do you want, Daniel?”

  “I want you to go to hell. And if I can’t get that, I want you out of New Orleans. Out of the state. The goddamn hemisphere, even. I want you to close this place down, and I want you to leave and never go anywhere near my family again.”

  Gavin walked past the other man, to the end of the porch, and turned back. It was just to give him time to cool down. And to get a look at Daniel.

  He didn’t look good.

  “I’m not closing the club,” Gavin said. He kept his voice calm and soft. “There are people who need it. And I’m not leaving New Orleans.”

  “You think it’s worked?” Daniel said. “You think people think you’ve changed, because you’re settling down with a woman too sweet for you by half? Bullshit. I know what you are, and you’re a liar. And you’ve made that woman into a liar, too.”

  Slowly, Gavin turned around.

  That was the third time he’d mentioned Olivia. Talking around her, in circles.

  “Say it, Daniel. Whatever it is.”

  “I know all about it, you son of a bitch,” he snarled, launching himself out of his chair again, powered by a second wind of righteous anger. “That Crennel creature tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. And then Mr. Brandon Greer told me all about it, like he was proud of her. Are you paying her? Does she know what you are?”

  Those words…

  No.

  Gavin stayed still. Kept control. But it was effort. And with every deep, even breath, he saw Daniel spin further away from sanity.

  “I don’t expect you to understand, Daniel, but after Gabby died, I made a promise.”

  Gavin took another deep breath, and then—stopped.

  He wanted to tell him the truth about the Gabby he knew, the good and the bad, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break this man’s heart all over again.

  All he could say was, “I made a promise.”

  “I don’t give two shits about your promises, son,” Daniel said, and got up out of his chair again, this time with something resembling strength. “I’m past the bounds of decency. I just don’t care anymore. So let me be clear.”

  He brushed his wrinkled suit, straightened his tie, and set his shoulders back.

  “If you stay, I will ruin you. And I will ruin her.”

  The goddamn curtain came down, and the fire in Gavin roared. He was a tightly controlled ball of fury, constrained by his own sense of duty and obligation, fueled by…

  Fear.

  All he could think of was how much Olivia had already given up. And how Daniel’s words still echoed in his head, cutting into him a little more with every ricochet, every goddamn reminder.

  He choked out, “I’m warning you, Daniel.”

  Daniel was shaking.

  “If you stay, I will expose you, and I will go after everyone you care about, just as you have me. Starting with Miss Cress.”

  “I made a promise,” Gavin said.

  But he was talking to himself.

  He’d made a promise not to put anyone else at risk, and not to fall in love with a sub. And he’d broken both of them.

  Daniel Delavigne turned around, and walked down the steps of the front porch, into the sun. He stopped suddenly, and sneered over his shoulder.

  “What’s a promise worth to you, Colson?”

  34

  Olivia drove as fast as she could, taking the corners kind of hard.

  “Whatever, it’s a rental,” she whispered. She’d sprung for another car while she was here, she might as well use it.

  And since she could drive around now without anyone with a camera caring even a little bit, she floored it.

  Olivia had no real idea what she was doing, but there was something pulling her towards Gavin. Simone had dropped a bunch of unintentional truth bombs, asked a bunch of questions. Her head was still swirling with all that information, and all the questions she had—a dead woman? Gavin was attached to the literal past?—were nothing compared to the epiphany she’d just had.

  Her whole life, she’d lived in fear. Convinced that if she didn’t do exactly the right thing at the right time, all the time, her whole world would end. The people she loved would suffer.

  But Gavin had shown her that if you live your life running away from something, you never get to run toward anything.

  And now she was running toward Gavin.

  Ok, maybe it wasn’t nothing. Maybe she was speeding like a crazy person back to Club Volare because some part of her wondered if it wasn’t just Pixar-tearjerker levels of tragic to fall head-over-heels in love with someone who was downright haunted. Because she could feel that dream-like happiness that she felt when she woke up in Gavin’s arms fading away against the hard reality that that man had got some baggage, and she was racing back to grab hold of that happiness before it disappeared forever.

  Of course, in the Pixar movie, Gavin would…overcome, or something. For both their sakes. Somehow it would all be all right.

  Maybe fairytales are real.

  Her phone was ringing as she pulled onto the club’s street, and she smashed at it, one-handed, until it shut up, her eyes never leaving what she could see of Club Volare New Orleans: a gate, that was open, a tall, shielding hedge, a fence.

  And Daniel Delavigne, storming out.

  “That cannot be good,” she said.

  She hit the brakes and slowed into the drive at a crawl. There was something that seemed indecent about rushing up, now. That, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was too late.

  Gavin was sitting on the porch, sprawled out in a chair that was too small for him, his chin in his hand and his eyes fixed on some horizon. It wasn’t like him. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and stood up slowly, unfolding to his full height.

  He looked like he’d aged about ten years.

  Olivia’s heart sank another few notches.

  They looked at each other. Neither of them spoke for a long time. It was Olivia who cracked first.

  “I just saw Simone,” she said. “And—”

  “We can’t continue this,” Gavin said. Softly.

  It cracked like a whip across her heart anyway.

  For a second, her body forgot to breathe. She had to think about it—in, out. In, out.

  Get the facts. Maybe it’s not…

  “We can’t continue what?” she said.

  Gavin looked at her, his dark eyes soft and sad, and then, suddenly, the light was out. Hard. Cold.

  “Olivia,” he said. “We can’t continue this arrangement. I can’t be your Dom.”

  Olivia just shook her head, over and over, like she must have misheard. Like somebody had just stated an obviously incorrect fact, like
she could argue this and win.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  He walked forward, and leaned against the railing, his big back stretching the fabric of his shirt, the muscles under there roiling while his face stayed blank.

  He said, “It’s outside my control.”

  “Is this about Gabby? Simone told me about her sister. I didn’t ask, I didn’t… I don’t know what happened, Gavin, but it was an accident. Even Simone knows it was an accident.”

  He turned around, stood up straight.

  “She surprised me with something, and it went bad,” he said. “We were young, and new to BDSM. There wasn’t anyone to teach it, or…doesn’t matter. She was fine, in the end. No nerve damage. But she never did safe word out.”

  “How is that your—”

  “I ended it,” he said, cutting her off again. “Probably not well, because I was young and stupid. And she spun out, getting drunk and doing everything she could to get back at me, and then she died.”

  Olivia stared at him, not knowing what to say. He turned back around to his railing, putting his big hands on it, nearly wrapping them around it.

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with us,” she said.

  Gavin shook his head.

  Dully, he said, “I made a promise.”

  “To who?” Olivia said. “She’s gone, Gavin.”

  “To myself.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Daniel Delavigne?” she said, feeling a pang of self-righteousness and leaning into it, because it was about a million times better than everything else she was feeling. “I saw him leave here, and if he—”

  She stopped. Daniel Delavigne had lost a daughter. He might not have been a nice person before that, either, but that kind of pain could almost excuse anything.

  Gavin looked back at her, and smiled slightly. “He was just a reminder, Liv.”

  They were silent, for a moment.

  “Gavin,” she said. “Please don’t do this. I just…I just found this. Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Liv,” he said. And he looked down at his hands, gripping the railing so hard it looked like it might snap.

  She blinked.

  No.

  “You don’t get to do this,” she said. “You don’t get to…”