36. Jay
Chapter thirty-six
Jay
P assing the table, Jay swapped a bumpy pink seashell for a sky-blue paperweight from the tray beside the water pitcher. Danny kept a whole bunch of fidget objects in his office, lots of shapes and textures, and Jay didn’t need permission to get up and wander around and tumble pieces in his hands during his sessions.
“I don’t know why it’s still bugging me, though.” One missed anniversary, and not even a real anniversary. Plus, Emma had spent like two hours with him for dinner last night, and asked him to walk her back to the club, and then this morning Alice had given him such a show that he’d popped like a champagne cork the second her rules allowed it. “I’m so moody this week. Wobbly, you know?”
“Wobbly’s a great word, Jay.” Danny slouched in his chair while they talked, but his eyes tracked Jay. He listened almost as good as Henry, even when he didn’t look like he was listening at all. “How does that feel to you, being wobbly?”
“I feel like…” He rolled the paperweight between his hands. Smooth like a river stone. Cool, but warming up the more he touched it. “Like I’m balancing a bike for the first time without training wheels, and my hands and knees are all scraped up, and next time I crash it’ll be a mouthful of gravel.” His phone was in do-not-disturb mode for his session, but the outline of it showed through his cargo pocket. “Every day I’m up-down, up-down.”
He checked for work notifications throughout the day, on his phone between routes, connecting with Carrie, updating progress, handling problems—but now no notifications wasn’t good news. It was just another reminder that Henry and Alice weren’t checking up on him. Which was stupid, so stupid, because they didn’t constantly message on a regular day anyway. He went plenty of days without hearing from them during work hours.
“Can you name how you’re feeling now, Jay? In this moment?”
“Stupid.” The word slipped out, and he flinched, bobbling the paperweight before catching it. “I mean…” He clenched the crystal oval. That was okay. It wouldn’t break. And it wasn’t sharp anywhere to hurt him. “Angry with myself. And…” So damn needy, that was him. “Lonely.”
On regular days he had his breakfast talk with Henry, and dinner all together, and after dinner games, and bedtime with their bodies beside him, Alice’s curves and Henry’s tight hold. The heat so welcoming as he drowsed grew into an inferno that had him kicking off the sheets in his sleep by morning. Sometimes he woke to gentle hands caressing his back, lips leaving kisses along his shoulders—so much touch he could carry a shield of it with him all day, some sci-fi personal force field under his clothes that smelled of Henry and Alice and wove their love around him. And now nothing but occasional messages and calls, at odd times, nothing he could rely on.
He’d started sleeping with the phone in his hand and the sound turned up, a serious violation of Henry’s usual rules, but if he missed a message when it arrived, he might not get another chance the whole day. What if he’d slept through Alice’s good morning today? He wouldn’t have gotten to see her laughing at his bedhead or listen to her work herself up with her fingers or tell him what she was gonna do to him when she got home to him. And he needed those things more than he needed his next breath.
“Really good catch there, Jay. I love how you dug deep for what was behind that ‘stupid’ label, because we know that’s a liar word trying to hide things from you. So…” Danny tapped his fingers against his mouth like a gamer mashing the controller buttons, then stopped and made a No. 1 with his index finger. “Yesterday you wished your spouses a happy anniversary, and they didn’t respond.”
“No, I—” He slowed his loop and rubbed the smooth crystal with his thumb. “I waited to hear from them.”
He’d just expected it. He’d written about his excitement for the anniversary in his wish book, and about his disappointment that wearing the new collar and cuffs would have to wait. But Henry wasn’t home; he wasn’t reading Jay’s wish book. And no matter how smooth his lovers seemed, one of the first paragraphs in their contract agreed that no one was a mind reader. Communication was a must-must-must, right up there with safewords, like the CEOs of submission.
“Shit. I messed up.” He blew out a long breath as the mental wave of stupid passed. “I know better. That’s why I’m mad at myself.”
“Returning to patterns that aren’t right for us anymore happens to all of us, Jay. Everybody. Usually something brings it on, and the trick is to recognize when it’s happening, like you just did. That was fantastic.” Danny sat forward, elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. “So let’s work through this. Did you feel like you couldn’t message them first?”
In five years, Henry had never been distracted like this. Never left him wondering. What if Henry wasn’t talking more because something really wrong was happening with his mom? Peggy hadn’t told him about Mom’s dementia because she didn’t want to worry him—no, no, that was the old pattern. She hadn’t told him because controlling who knew let her manipulate him when it helped her best. Henry wasn’t like that. But if he needed help, he would ask for it. Henry had great communication skills.
“Sort of. They have so much heavy stuff going on. They don’t have time for extras.”
“Is your health and safety an extra?”
“No, I mean, I know I matter.” But for emergencies. Not because he’d stubbed his toe against a date on the calendar. “It’s just like I said, Alice is working, and Henry’s mom is sick, and Alice knows what that’s like because of her dad, and she says it’s best to stay out of the way and let Henry focus.”
Pretzeling himself back in the seat, legs crossed, elbows still on his knees, Danny propped his chin on his knuckles. “I don’t think I’ve heard about Alice’s dad. Tell me a little about how that relates?”
He rattled off everything he knew, about the work accident and the pain pills and Alice being a superstar big sister. “She was thirteen, I guess, so she’s had years of experience with this kinda thing.”
Years. The crystal ball dropped heavy into his other hand, and he let his palm dip and bounce with the weight. Maybe that was the thing Henry knew and Alice feared, and he was the only one who hadn’t figured it out yet. Their new house together, their jobs and friends and lives—Henry didn’t want to tell them he’d be staying in Maine permanently, and Alice and Jay would have to go too or lose him. His feet stuck to the rug, but his heart kept traveling, beating way out in front of him, farther than he could reach.
“Will you go with me on a hypothetical, Jay? Let’s just imagine for a minute.”
“Sure. Yeah. Yes.” Whatever Danny was imagining had to be better than what his head had cooked up. “Hypo-theta-hit me.”
“Is it possible that Alice is operating on some outdated messages?”
“What?” His fingers twitched toward the zipper on his phone pocket. “What messages?”
“This idea about staying out of the way—not being a burden, maybe?” Tilting his head, Danny lifted his eyebrows and waited.
Jay offered a shruggy-nod. Alice hadn’t called him a burden, but that was how it felt, like Henry didn’t want him in Maine because he’d be more trouble than he was worth.
Danny nodded back. “Does that maybe sound like she’s reacting the way a very capable but overwhelmed child would, rather than as an independent adult partner?”
“She wouldn’t—” Alice was smart. Smarter than him. Alice was a problem-solver. Alice had fixed it so he could visit Kevin without being a pain in the butt little brother. “She’s not—”
Alice sometimes ran away when emotions got too big to handle. He’d seen her do it. And Ollie had told him how Alice used to microwave dinner and bring it down to the basement rec room so Ollie wouldn’t have to be around their dad when the yelling started.
“It can be difficult thinking that our dominants don’t have all the right answers. It hurts here”—Danny patted his head—“because it doesn’t make sense. And it hurts here”—he pressed a fist to his chest—“because we want to follow and obey. But I know you can question those instincts, Jay, because you’ve told me how you’ve done it before. You’ve pushed back on your dominants and saved your relationship.”
“Yeah, but that—” Hell, that week had been life or death: Henry and Alice not talking, and their whole future together crumbling like dried-out dirt. And that was before he’d made the spectacularly bad decision to shove them all into a weekend with his family and watch them get thrown out without even fighting for them. Not every disobedience worked out great. “This is just me not getting a text for a silly anniversary. It’s not even a real anniversary. It’s just a month.”
The more he said the words, the less he believed them. A month meant something. It was worth celebrating.
“It doesn’t sound ‘just,’ Jay. It sounds like an accomplishment you’re proud of, and you have every right to be. Didn’t you say Henry acknowledged that in a letter yesterday? A gift of some sort?”
His heart slammed back into his chest. He slipped around the side table and into his seat, suddenly as exhausted as if he’d hit a wall and run out of snack fuel on a ride.
“He did, yeah.” They hadn’t gotten their special night together, but Henry hadn’t ignored it. He’d planned for it. He’d set up the gifts so Jay would get his collar and cuffs, and Alice would get her whatever the day before, and he’d wanted them to enjoy the gifts on the anniversary. Maybe he’d forgotten the date yesterday, but he’d been thinking of it weeks ago to set everything up. Ordering custom pieces. Creating all the sketches, all the notes, all the scavenger hunt clues. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
He clamped his fist to his chest, wishing the paperweight was the smooth metal of the central ring on his harness. “I should’ve messaged first. So they’d know I was thinking of them.”
“ Should is a harsh word. But I think you’re right that your intervention may be more welcome than you believed. They aren’t entirely different from you, Jay. A message from you could provide a bright spot and a sense of normalcy and connection for all of you during these difficult days.”
Smoothing his hands down his jeans, Danny plucked a thread from a hole at the knee. He rolled it between finger and thumb, the same slow circle again and again, and Jay’s heartbeat settled. “Instead of ruminating on should , let’s look ahead to the next opportunity. I’d like you to try reaching out this evening. Dare to be the first. Let’s think about seeking connection, not silence, as the default way to deal with hurt, fear, uncertainty—all those emotions that get stuck in the spokes and keep us going round and round.”
A homework assignment. Henry and Alice had done some damn good domming, helping him find this guy for therapy. Jay just needed to do some damn good subbing to help them all remember who they were. “I can do that.”
He picked up dinner on the way home from therapy, a big grain bowl with carbs and protein and even a heaping scoop of veggies Henry would approve of. Gave it a quick reheat after his shower. Spoon on one side of his place setting, phone on the other.
The card from today’s envelope looked mouth-wateringly yummy, but he didn’t have the know-how to make caramel apples and popcorn balls by himself, and he didn’t have anyone to eat them with or make a fun mess with. They were supposed to be making them to take to Maine for Christmas.
Spooning up dinner, he thumbed through his phone in his other hand. Nothing from Henry or Alice yet since this morning, but it was only a little after seven, and an hour earlier for Alice.
He could start with a straight-up I miss you . But that felt needy and grasping, like throwing his emotions in their faces so they would drop everything and reassure him. He needed an in, like a promo deal for a new client.
The wedding photos.
He pulled up the gallery from Avery’s link and jabbed his thumb at a random rectangle. Reception. He swiped through. There was him dancing with Emma, and Alice dancing with Master Will, and—perfect.
Henry danced with his mom, their arms and posture all formal but their faces bright, Henry smiling and his mom laughing. She didn’t look old or sick; she looked like a woman happy to be at her son’s wedding.
A quick share, watermarked low-res blah-blah, fine, whatever, just—okay. Okay, good. Photo attached, ready to go to Henry and Alice. No ask. An offer, that’s all. Happy month of married life! Scrolling through the wedding photos. This one goes in the album for sure.
He hit Send and laid the phone on the table. Hovering over it wouldn’t make replies come any faster. He shoveled food in. Henry would’ve done more with seasonings, but for a ready-to-eat dish, it wasn’t bad.
The Christmas tree wasn’t lit. Dark and shadowy, the whole front of the house. Jay jogged over and hit the lights. He’d already refilled the water tank today, but he checked with his finger again anyway. Not quite full—the tree was still drinking. “Good job, fir. That’s a fine needle coat you’ve got.”
And fancy ornaments. They’d had so much fun putting them on the tree. Getting Alice on the little ladder, with her ass practically—
His phone chimed with a new message.
He almost vaulted the coffee table getting back to his seat. Knocked his shin on the corner and kept going.
Happy belated anniversary, my loves. Our celebration has been delayed but not lost. If nothing else, the waiting shall teach all of us patience and endurance. Jay, the photograph is a tremendous find, and I will be certain to share it with Mother. Your thoughtfulness overwhelms me.
His thoughtfulness. Not his burden-ness or his interruption-ness. Not his radio silence. Danny said he’d probably always have to be on guard for that impulse, getting trapped in the idea that he couldn’t change circumstances, that he had to accept without questioning. He was supposed to be checking in with himself, asking himself what he wanted. That was Henry’s point with the wish book, so basic that he’d forgotten how to operate without it. He didn’t think of the wish book as going to Henry with a need. He completed assignments. He waited for Henry to bring up stuff he wanted more details about. But that’s what it was—him communicating first.
The dots wiggled; a new message popped in.
A month! How did I lose track? Wrapping up dinner here—anyone up for a call in fifteen minutes or so? Jay, can you send the link to the gallery, too? We could look at the photos together while we catch up, if everyone has time.
He hesitated, his all-caps YES reply ready to send. He wasn’t the one with other obligations, and maybe a single text was all Henry had time for, and—
That would be wonderful. I’ll check on Mother in the meantime and await your call.
Jay added another five S es to his YES and sent his reply, then followed up with the gallery link and login. Vibrating with fresh energy, he ate the rest of dinner like a waiter was standing by the table trying to snatch the bowl away.
Fifteen minutes later on the dot, Alice replied. Back at the hotel. Audio call incoming.
Audio, right, because they’d be looking at the photos, not each other’s faces. Well, their faces, but the faces of a month ago, the happy starting-their-life-together faces.
The phone prompted him to accept, so he did. “Alice?”
“Hey, sweetheart. I’ll add Henry in a second, but I wanted to scoop you up first. Thank you for starting a chat. I miss your voices, especially at night. And I have news to share!”
“News? Good news?” Her bubbly-happy excitement got his feet tapping and heat pooling in places he wouldn’t bring up first, even if it was up first, because tonight probably wasn’t gonna be a repeat of this morning.
“Yup, let me add Henry, one sec.”
He didn’t hum hold music, but only because his brain was busy shooting off fireworks. He’d aced this homework assignment, and his reward was more than he’d let himself hope for. Henry and Alice were both happy about him taking the initiative.
Alice clicked her tongue. “Henry, are you there?”
“I am indeed, and delighted to be so.” Smooth calm washed through the connection, Henry’s steady hand at the wheel. “I’ve been missing the two of you dreadfully.”
“Not for much longer.”
Even without video, the gleam in Alice’s eyes came through loud and clear. Didn’t hurt that Jay had pulled up a photo of her coming down the aisle beside him, both of their gazes fixed straight ahead at the man they loved.
“Do tell, sweet girl.”
“I solved it! Probably. We have to do a test run tomorrow—oh, Jay, check out photo fifty-seven, it’s a fantastic one of Nat—and then there are, umm, meetings with bigwigs, but unless something goes horribly wrong, I’ll be home Friday.” Her sigh dropped Jay’s shoulders, too, all the tension running out through his toes and disappearing into the floor. “And Saturday we’ll all be back together.”
On his way to fifty-seven, he paused and pinched in tight on seventy-eight. Henry and Alice stood on either side of him, intense concentration in their eyes surrounded by their soft, smiling faces as they buckled his harness. At the center, he glowed with pure bliss, a thousand times brighter than the sun. About how he felt right now.
“I can’t wait.”