There’s nothing submissive about Case. It’s not like with Declan, where he’s eager and willing to take whatever I dish out and begging me for more.
Which I have no hesitation about giving him, either.
I lean back against the counter, the mug cupped in both my hands while trying not to stare her in the eyes.
She studies me for a long and uncomfortably silent moment.
Then I get the head tilt.
I blink and look away first. “What?” I ask. I feel like I’m about to be schooled.
Maybe I deserve it.
Okay, so there’s no maybe about it, but…
I don’t care. Declan’s like a drug, and I need him.
Does it make me a shitty father that even my love for my kids couldn’t pull me back from the brink the way my obsession for Declan has?
I finally feel like I’m alive again.
I no longer feel that crushing weight on me every morning when I awaken, even if I’m alone in bed.
I look forward to every morning now, instead of dreading it when I awaken and realize I’m not dead yet.
Eventually, she draws in a long, audible breath. When she speaks, it’s quiet, her words deliberate. “I don’t know if you’re a sociopath, a psychopath, or functionally psychotic, George. And I don’t know what it says about me that you haven’t scared me off yet. I’m leaning more toward functionally psychotic, because I’ve seen you express empathy. You love your kids. You’re a fantastic dad. You were the world’s best husband to Ellen. You’re a great friend.
“I know that before I triggered all this, you were on an express elevator to self-destruction. I felt it, and felt helpless about how to help you. I’m glad that being with Declan has triggered…something to make you start wanting to live again. Except I’m also worried you’re going to self-destruct at this rate, in different ways now. Or hurt Declan in ways I can’t make better.”
I bristle over that. “He likes what I do to him. He likes being hurt—”
“That’s not the kind of hurt I mean, George,” she snaps. “And you damn well know it!”
The things I do to him silence the demons in my mind.
The scream of the wind through the fuselage.
The screams of our fellow passengers.
My screams.
The horrible, strangled gasp she barely had time to make when it happened.
The way my ears painfully popped and the sound of my breath roaring in the plastic oxygen mask I held pressed to my face as I screamed her name and realized no, she wasn’t alive.
The fear in her remaining green eye, unseeing, staring at me.
The way her hand clamped down on mine, then the last several twitches before it finally went slack.
But I still held on.
I couldn’t let go.
I haven’t been able to let go for two years. Part of me is still strapped into my seat in that airplane.
Still holding on.
I blink, and there’s Casey suddenly standing in front of me, arms crossed and a dark scowl on her face.
“You did it again.”
I swallow back the bitter bile threatening to come up. My hands tighten around the mug. “Did what?” I hoarsely ask. I take a sip of coffee to buy me time.
“Disappeared.”
“Now who’s psychotic?” I manage.
She steps closer, staring up at me. “You disappear,” she quietly says. “I’ve tried to catch it on video to show you, but you come back so quickly I can’t. I don’t know what triggers you. You never used to do it, so I know it’s because of the…of what happened. You’re there, then all of a sudden you freeze, your face goes completely blank before it looks like a cross between terror and agony, and then you’re back. Sometimes it’s only a second, and sometimes it’s two or three.
“You’ve only done it when we’re alone together, that I’ve seen. Or, lately, with Declan there. I haven’t asked him about it yet, if he’s noticed it when you’re alone with him. Like when you had the panic attack in the bathroom. I’m sure you did it then, too, but neither of us were with you when it started.”
I can’t bear the weight of her gaze, so I stare at the mug of coffee in my hands.
“George,” she quietly says, “you have severe PTSD. You’re having flashbacks. I think they’re verging into fugues, or even psychotic breaks, and that you’re at serious risk of harming yourself, or him.”
I don’t respond. What the hell am I supposed to say?
That I’m afraid of myself?
That I’m terrified I’m going to ruin the only thing that allows me to sleep now?
That I might accidentally kill Declan?
She carefully closes the remaining distance between us, like she’s trying to soothe a frightened animal. When she reaches out and touches my hands, I flinch and force myself to stay still.
“See? It’s okay.” She takes the coffee mug from me and sets it on the counter before her grip enfolds my hands, but not tightly.
Not like I had Declan hold my hands.
“Are you afraid of me?” I force myself to ask, my gaze finally swiveling up to look her in the eyes.
“Honestly? Now?” She finally nods. “Sometimes, yeah. Not in good ways, either. The only reason I’m here right now, and I haven’t ordered him to cut contact with you outside of work, is because I’ve known you for nearly twenty-five years. I know who you are, who you were. I know the man before, and after. I knew about everything you and Ellen did together. And I do mean everything. The kinky sex, the BDSM, that she was your slave—all of it.”
That’s news to me. “What?”
“Yeah. I was her bestie. You think she wasn’t going to tell me? I’ll even admit I was jealous as hell and thought what a lucky bitch. Because she had absolute, complete trust in you. But she also admitted she wished you’d do…more, sometimes.”
I struggle to process that, too. “More?”
She slowly nods, like she’s trying to minimize her movements. “More. Not, obviously, to the extent you’re doing with Declan. Then again, he’s a guy and can take a lot more than she could’ve taken.”
I stare at her as I try to make all of this compute in my brain.
Then she changes conversational lanes on me without warning. “George, do you still want to be governor? Really?”
Before my life fell apart, I would have immediately answered yes, that it’s what I longed to be, had geared myself for, had worked so hard for. Especially because Ellen wanted it for me, for us.
Now?
I honestly don’t even know who I am anymore. Fuck, I don’t even know if I’m straight now.
But I nod as I stare into her eyes.
She nods with me. “Okay,” she says so softly I now struggle to listen. “Do you trust me?”
I nod again, because, yes, I do trust her.
I feel the prickle of tears stinging my eyes and force them back.
“I need full honesty from you, then. Are you fucking anyone else? Besides Declan?”
I shake my head.
“Okay.” She reaches up with one hand, pausing when I start to draw back before I stop myself, and then she strokes my cheek.
“I’ll give Declan to you, but we have to have rules, honey. I think he’s helping you. You’re always calmer and steadier after you’ve had him for the night because you can actually get some sleep when you’re with him.”
I nod.
“Okay, then. So, let’s talk rules.”
The control freak in me doesn’t want to give up without a fight. The boy is mine already, even if she doesn’t know that. “What rules?”
“Well, for starters, he’s still mine. I get the final say-so. Neither of you are gay or bi, so I’m not sure why this is working, but apparently, it is.”
“What do you mean by final say-so?” I ignore the part about not being gay or bi, because she’s absolutely right.
I don’t know why this is working, if you can call it “working.” It’s
dysfunctional and ugly and painful in a lot of ways for both of us, but he keeps coming back for more, and I keep letting him.
I’m afraid not to.
I sleep when he’s with me.
I sleep better than I have in two years, and it has nothing to do with the sex.
I mean, not everything to do with the sex. Maybe a little.
“I set the rules,” she says. “I also get access to him whenever I want. A girl has needs, you know. I’ve put a lot of years and training into that boy. I’m pretty damn fond of him.” I look for a hint of her trademark smile and don’t see it.
That…scares me.
“What else?” I ask.
“No, you agree first, then we continue. I set the rules, George. He’s my boy, and I have a responsibility to him. If you can’t accept that, then we need to stop things now. Deal?”
I nod. “But I’m not submitting to you, Case.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
I nod again for her to continue.
She studies me for a moment. “I’m going to do some research. We need to be careful, because in this town, you’re right that everyone is up inside everyone else’s business. If I think you’re going too far off the rails, I’ll make you an appointment to talk to someone, and you will go. Otherwise, I pull Declan, we both submit our resignations, and you’re on your own. And I mean that. Don’t bother going around me on this one. I already made him agree to it.”
Terror fills me, tightening my throat. I nod, maybe too quickly, too sharply, blinking back more tears, because her thumb strokes my cheek where her hand is still pressed to my face.
“I wouldn’t do it without warning.” She’s still using a too-soft voice, making me focus on her. “I’d give you a chance to make it right. But only one chance. No second chances.”
“Okay.”
“If I tell you there’s something you can’t do with him, then it’s off-limits, even if he wants it. Period.”
“Isn’t that taking his choice from him?”
“You’re not in a condition to gauge that. The George I knew before? I’d absolutely trust him to make that call. But not right now.”
“The George you knew before wouldn’t be with a guy, because Ellen would be alive.”
“Fair point.” The hint of a sad smile finally teases her lips. I suck in a little relief as I breathe. It can’t be all horrible if she’s almost smiling, right?
“I know neither of you were religious,” she says. “But I want to believe she’s smiling down on you right now and cheering you on.”
“Why?” I ask, because apparently I am a masochist.
“Because your girl was fucking kinky, George. Before she had you and the kids. And I don’t mean what the two of you did, either.”
I blink. “What?”
“Honey, if she’d had the slightest inclination way back then that you might be willing to experiment, before you had the kids, she would’ve been talking you into visiting a swingers club or something. She really wanted to see you plow a guy while he went down on her. Or be in the middle of the two of you fucking her. Or be under a guy and getting fucked by him while you fucked him. I told you about her Kindle account.”
We’ve once again returned to mental jungle territory, where it feels like I’m lost and can’t see any kind of trail. “Just because someone reads a lot of—”
“Come on, George. This is Ellen we’re talking about. She knew you loved politics, once you got the bug for it. Between the kids, and politics, she knew it wouldn’t happen. Not in this state, anyway. Maybe in Florida or something. She never would’ve risked your career. She was absolutely your good girl. She completely belonged to you.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to this.
Casey releases me. “You really didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t think she was serious. You know, spank-bank fodder. Screwing around in bed and talking.”
Casey snorts. “No, George. She was absolutely serious.”
She steps back and leans against the counter, bracing her hands on it, studying me again for a moment before she speaks. “Sometimes, I’m going to want to be here and be a part of what you do with him for my reasons. But, no offense? I’m not sleeping with or submitting to you.”
That conflicts me for a lot of reasons.
“Want to know why?” she asks.
I shrug.
“Because I’ve known you for so long. I’m afraid to take things too quickly with you. Would I like to sleep with you? Maybe. Eventually. If we can get you through this and to a point where the George I know and love is back for good. I trusted that George completely. I’d sleep with that George in a heartbeat.”
That shocks me. “Why don’t you trust me?”
“Declan let you choke him. Multiple times. You could’ve killed him. And that’s another rule—no more goddamned breath play. I could’ve strangled that boy when he told me that—and yes, I fully appreciate the irony in that statement. I’d like to say he’s got a great sense of self-preservation but it’s obvious he doesn’t anymore. Not when it comes to you.”
I think about the brilliant, beaming smile on Dec’s face as he came, what it did to me, how it lit my own soul, and I nod. “Okay.”
She sighs. “No one but us, either. Declan can be with either of us, and you can be with Declan, and I’ll be with him, but no one else.”
Frankly, I can’t think about anyone else but him. The thought of making myself vulnerable to someone else practically nauseates me with fear.
“Agreed,” I say.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I miss you, George. I know you’ve been through a horrible experience. We all loved her, and I miss her like hell, but I also miss my George. My friend the fun-loving guy. The buddy I used to snuggle up with in college to watch horror movies. You’re the only guy I could trust.”
That…is news to me. “What do you mean I’m the only guy you could trust?”
“I didn’t have it easy growing up. I knew you were faithful to Ellen. You wouldn’t have cheated on her if forced to at gunpoint. I could go out with you two, or to a party, or whatever, and trust you’d keep me safe the way you kept her safe. How many times did you have to carry me in from the car and put me to bed because I was sloppy damn drunk?”
“Too many,” I mutter, trying not to think about Aussie and hoping she won’t make dumb-ass decisions like that. Another reason I want her to have EPU protection.
“Too many,” she echoes. “And you never took advantage of me. Ellen knew I wouldn’t try to snipe you out from under her, either.” She sighs. “I’ve never told you about my childhood because, honestly? I was afraid it’d disgust you and you’d want to give me a wide berth.”
This is news. I mean, I knew she had an abusive childhood, but that’s about all she’d say on the matter. Ellen knew more, but she never expounded on that, and I know it was because Case asked her not to.
Case also never had a steady boyfriend in college. I used to tease Ellen that Case was just picky, and, later, I wasn’t entirely convinced that maybe she wasn’t gay. Not that it mattered to me, because it didn’t, but this is Tennessee and not exactly the most liberal area. Later…
Well, you know what I thought later.
“Do I get to make rules?” I ask.
“Depends on what it is. My first priority is Declan’s well-being.”
“You tell me what happened to you,” I say. “I want to know why you can’t trust people.”
I get the head tilt. “Not right now,” she says. “If we get to a point where I can trust you again, maybe. You have to earn that first. If you earn my trust back, yes, I’ll tell you.”
“How does that happen?”
“I don’t know.” She slowly shakes her head. “Because you don’t even trust yourself right now. Declan trusts you, which is why I can let him keep doing this, but I’m not there yet. I’d like to be. Under different circumstances, I would be willing to se
e what might happen between us.”
I blink. “What?”
Now I get the arched eyebrow. “Yes, I’m attracted to you, George. I always have been. You’re a gorgeous fucking man who’s only gotten better with age. Yes, I’m jealous Declan gets to have fun with you. But after two-plus decades of you being with Ellen, I’m comfortable living with my jealousy. Like I said, you haven’t scared me off. Yet. Doesn’t mean I trust you, though.”
My throat goes dry, forcing me to lick my lips before I can speak. I look around and find my coffee and take a sip. “I’d…I’d like that, too. To see what might…happen. Between us.”
This time she smiles, but it’s full of sadness. “Me, too. Except the problem is you’re batshit crazy, and not in a fun or good way. Maybe Declan can help me reel you back in enough you can stand on your own two feet again. Because I think before you had him in your life, you were getting close to teetering over the edge beyond rescue.”
Something deep inside me aches, that this woman, this tie to my past—this tie to Ellen and arguably my best damn friend—doesn’t trust me. “What do I have to do to regain your trust?”
“I don’t know,” she repeats. “We’ll take it one day at a time, sweetie. I can be your friend, and your employee, and this weird little whatever this is between us right now with Declan holding it together.”
She waves her hand, indicating us. “But before I can give you more than that, I need to know you’re not going to implode. If you break me and Declan, who’s going to help him in the aftermath? And he’s my boy, George. You’re only borrowing him, so don’t forget that. You don’t own him—I do. I know you think I use men like toilet paper, but you also didn’t know Declan and I were even an item until that first night, so shut up.”
Her tone hardens. “You don’t know as much as you think you do about me. Including my love for that boy. I love my boy every bit as much as you loved your girl. Just because I won’t marry him doesn’t mean I don’t love him as much as you loved Ellen.”
I take another sip of my coffee and it strikes me once again that only Ellen and Casey—and now Declan—have ever been able to make coffee the way I like it. I’ll drink it other ways, obviously, but they always make it the perfect strength.
Dirge (Devastation Trilogy 1) Page 26