Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
She’s right. I know she’s right but… “I just never want to let you down. I never want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to be him.”
And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? That fear is always there, the fear that in some way I’ll turn out to be him. That I’ll hurt people I love the way he did. That I’ll put myself over people I love the way he did.
Evan.
His panicked, confused eyes through the hood of his mask flash behind my eyelids. The way I snapped at him echoes through my ears. The way I walked out without explaining to him that I’m not mad plays on repeat in my head. I should have taken a moment to explain. I should have told him it was okay. I should have made sure he knew I wasn’t mad.
But…but there was a part of me that was mad. Mad that Mom knew about our play, that this part of us was out there in the open. Or maybe not mad, but embarrassed. I’ve spent months telling Evan there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that there was nothing wrong with what we do, but the second Mom walked through that door, I’d been flooded with it and I let that flood drown him out. It’s likely the same embarrassment that kept me from talking to Jackson about it the other day too.
“You’re not him. You never will be. You carry too much of a burden. You don’t have to be perfect all the time, and it’s not your job to protect everyone you love.”
“But I want to protect them.” And I failed in that with Evan, and in some ways with my mom too.
“That’s admirable, it is, but it’s not possible all the time. And if you’re spending your time protecting everyone else, who is protecting you?”
My eyes drift closed as I lean forward, forehead against the steering wheel, and that’s when I see it. Evan’s hazel eyes. The kindness in them. The infectious joy of his smile. The addicting sound of his laughter. The passion of his voice when he sings. The way he looks at me like there’s not any fucking thing in this goddamn world I can’t do. The way he talks to me when I need it and senses something’s wrong with me the same as I do with him. The fact that I talk to him in ways I don’t with others and I let him carry some of the weight I usually try to bear on my own.
The way he comes undone when I touch him. And the fulfillment I get out of training him, playing with him, petting and loving him. It gives me something I need, something I never knew I needed. Where’s the embarrassment in that? In fitting with someone, understanding them, and mutually fulfilling roles for one another? Where’s the shame in loving your own way and being happy your own way?
“You do, Ma, you protect me…and Randall does too. And Evan.” His name makes a small earthquake go off inside of me, just saying it, hearing it makes my pulse thump and my chest expand.
“I know you love him and—”
“Yes,” I cut her off. “Yes, it’s something we do together. You asked earlier if it was, and I didn’t answer. Yes. And it’s not about anything weird. It’s not even really about sex, though there’s no shame in kinky sex either. It sets him free in a way he desires, and it gives me a sort of control, a way of caring for someone I love that I need too. Maybe it doesn’t make sense but—”
“It doesn’t have to. Not to me. And I’m not saying it doesn’t but it’s between you and Evan, so it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. Someone else’s life rules don’t apply to another.”
“How’d you get so smart?” I tease her with a grin.
“My son taught me.” She smiles before reaching over to grab my hand. “Whatever I saw today isn’t my business. I was in shock, yes, but it doesn’t change how I see you or how I see Evan. Please make sure he knows that. I’ll text him later myself.”
“You have his phone number?” How did I not know that?
“Yep. You love him, so I love him. He’s part of this family.”
And I do. Christ, I fucking love him so much. “I need to go, Ma. I need to talk to him. Dad’s here. You’ll be okay.”
“I will, mijo. We’ll talk soon.” We give each other a hug. I wait until she’s safe in the house before I grab my phone and call Evan. His voice mail clicks on, so I hang up and try again.
Voice mail.
What must have happened for him to be in pup mode without me? Yes, he’d dressed in his gear before, but it was when he was surprising me. When we’d walked in he’d been on the couch, with his toys, lost inside that space he feels so damn comfortable in. “Ev…it’s me. I’m sorry. I’m not mad, okay, just…just know I’m not mad. You were a good boy. It was my fault.”