Chapter Seven
James
It feels like I just fell asleep when my alarm buzzes to wake me up.
It’s the second night in a row I’ve slept like shit, this time because I got into it with Nash last night—again—when I asked him if he had homework.
I’ve also asked him nearly every day if he can make his bed in the morning, something he refuses to do.
I don’t ask for a lot—just for the apartment to be tidy.
Once that was under control and he and Sadie were in bed, I’d looked up my schedule for the following day to see that Colton had requested office hours with me. That can’t be good. Neither can the fact that he’s still on my roster.
How in the hell did this happen? Out of all the men in the area, how did I end up with my part-time Dominant as my student?
I follow my routine, getting out of bed and heading straight for the shower. My stomach is in knots, but I do my best to ignore it. Whatever happens happens. Stressing out over it won’t change anything, but that has never stopped me from stressing out over something.
I finish getting ready, and the moment I step into the hallway, I hear the blender running. I frown, not having expected that. Nash hasn’t used the blender at all since they moved in—the obnoxious sound mixing with whatever Sadie is listening to on her phone.
“I can’t find my homework,” she tells him over the noise that’s grating on my already sensitive nerves.
“I put it in your backpack, brat,” he replies, a soft playfulness to his voice that speaks of his love for her. Nash is a lot of things, and he may hate me, but I will never doubt how much he loves Sadie. If not for her, he would have already left here, or maybe never come with me at all.
The second I walk into the room, I realize the TV, which is to the left in the living room, is what’s so loud.
To the right, Nash is blending something, while Sadie’s phone is on the counter, playing videos.
There are dishes all over the island where she sits, her backpack in front of her, papers spread out.
Nash’s backpack is on the floor, in the middle of the walkway as if I didn’t install hooks for their bags a couple of weeks before school started.
It’s…a lot.
My head starts throbbing, lack of sleep making my eyes burn.
I head straight for the television, teeth gritted as I turn it off.
Neither of them has noticed me yet, joking and laughing with each other in a way they have never and will likely never do with me, and I feel an unexpected pang of longing as I watch them.
All that does is make me want to shut down even tighter, nip those feelings in the bud before they can grow out of control.
They both look up at me when I head their way.
“Why is everything on at the same time?” I snap, pressing the off button on the overly blended smoothie.
“There’s no reason the TV, a phone, and a blender all need to be going at the same time.
And, Sadie, can you please pick up your papers and put them in your backpack? Why is yours on the floor, Nash?”
“Because I put it there,” he argues. “And she’s making sure she has her assignments before she packs her bag.”
Sadie doesn’t respond, immediately turning off her phone and putting everything in her bag. Guilt sets root inside me, spreading like wildfire. “I thought you didn’t have homework,” I say. I could have helped.
“I didn’t say that. I said we didn’t need your help. I have it under control.”
His words increase the pressure on my bruised feelings.
I’ve known from the start that he hates me, but I thought we’d find some common ground by now.
Everything with them and Colton plays tug-of-war in my head, pulling me in different directions, making me feel different things to the extent I don’t know what to focus on.
This…isn’t like me. I’ve done my best to make sure I have control over my life from the second I left Sandra.
Everything I do, everything I have, has been planned out and decided by me, including those few moments when I do choose to give control to someone else.
That’s always still my choice. But nothing feels in my control right now.
It makes my heart race and my gut ache, makes my head spin in this way it hasn’t done in a long time… like I never thought it would do again.
“Clean this mess up, get your things together, and meet me in the car.”
“Sadie needs to eat,” he argues. And he’s right. We’re early. I haven’t had my coffee or breakfast either.
“It’s fine. I’m not hungry,” she says softly.
Fuck. I’m messing this up. I’m doing a shit job of taking care of them. Maybe they would be better off without me? I’m sure Nash thinks so.
“No, it’s not okay,” Nash tells her.
“He’s right. You both need to eat. Finish your smoothie or whatever else you were making. I’ll be in the car.”
I grab my bag from the shelf by the door and walk out. It takes them twelve minutes before they join me in the car. I know I should check to make sure they’ve eaten, but I don’t. Nash will have made sure they had, and it’s not like they want me involved in their lives anyway.
The car is silent as I take Nash to school first. He hugs and kisses his sister before getting out, completely ignoring me. It’s not until we’re alone together that Sadie says quietly, “Sorry we’re a pain.”
My heart clenches. If Sandra treated them the way she did me, they must have always felt like a pain, a responsibility the person who was supposed to love them didn’t want. “You’re not a pain. I apologize for not being better at this.”
I meet her big brown eyes in the rearview mirror, and Sadie nods before turning away. Neither of us speaks after that. When we arrive at her school, I say, “Have a good day,” as she gets out, but the door closes so fast, I don’t know if she heard me or if she cares.
My brain doesn’t slow down the rest of the way to work.
Henry tries to talk to me, but I tell him I’m late for a meeting and hurry away.
It’s still early. Colton isn’t supposed to arrive for another fifteen minutes, and I really need that time to get myself sorted out, but the second I approach my office, I see him there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, T-shirt stretched tightly across his pecs and arms, looking as though he doesn’t have a care in the world.
All that does is make the anger inside me boil hotter.
“James,” he says, pushing away from the wall.
“Professor Valentine,” I correct him, forcing myself not to look around to make sure no one heard.
He winces as though he hadn’t used my first name on purpose.
I can see how that’s something he’ll have to get used to.
I’ve gone from being his good boy to his professor.
My dick twitches as I try to force those thoughts from my head.
I don’t need or want to be his good boy.
I never should have been in the first place.
He doesn’t respond as I fumble trying to unlock the door.
“You’re not late,” he says, making my heart beat even faster. “I’m early.”
I know he’s saying that because of how upset I was when he arrived first the last time we had a scene together. “I know,” I snap, but I still don’t like that he was here first. I don’t like that he’s here at all, especially after the morning I’ve had.
I freeze when Colton’s hand lands on mine…when he takes the key from me and unlocks the door. I shouldn’t be allowing him to do that. My shoulders shouldn’t relax when he does.
I snatch the key back, then lead him into my office. We should do this in the classroom, but then, we shouldn’t be doing this at all. And it’s not as if I’ve never had a student in my office, especially for important discussions, but none of them were Colton.
I walk over to my desk and set my bag down. “I take it you weren’t able to get out of my class.”
“I tried. None of the ones I need are offered next semester either. It will throw me off track to wait. I understand that this can—”
“Get me fired and make me lose everything?” I interrupt.
“Could it, though? If we don’t do it again?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, walking away from him, giving Colton my back and looking out the window.
He’s right. There’s no way anyone would ever be able to find out we had sex. We were at my house both times. It’s been over for months. It won’t affect his grades or how he’s treated. My TA does most of my grading anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “If you really don’t think we can make this work, I’ll drop the class.”
I turn and look at him, see the sincerity on his face, think about the care he’d shown me when we were together, and though I don’t really know Colton, I believe him. He would drop this class even if it made his life more difficult.
“Stay in the class. It’s fine. It fits with how my fucking life has been the last few months.”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t know what makes me do it, why I open my mouth and let the words fall out when it’s so fucking far from my MO, it’s like an alien took over my body, but I say, “Oh, you mean the fact that my abusive mom died? And when she did, I found out I have two young siblings I knew nothing about? I have custody of them and don’t know the first thing about raising children.
They hate me, and I can’t blame them. I’m going to ruin their lives just like she ruined all of ours.
” My breathing picks up, my chest tight. The room spins.
I’m usually better at this, better at having a handle on things and not losing it.
Why the fuck did I say any of this to him?
I want the words back. I can’t let him see these parts of me.
He’s already seen the others, seen who I am and what I crave.
Telling him this is showing him more of me than anyone has seen, which makes me shake and spin out of control even more.
“James.”
“Professor Valentine,” I force out, and realize I’m pacing. When had I started to move? Why am I losing it like this? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Breathe,” Colton says, closer now, hand on my shoulder as my legs feel weak. “Hey. Come here.”
“No,” I argue.
“Sit,” he demands, not taking no for an answer and pulling my chair over.
I shouldn’t sit.
I shouldn’t listen.
But I do.
“Did you eat this morning?”
“No.” And I’m not used to that. I eat breakfast every morning. It’s part of my routine. Something about that makes the buzz in my head grow.
“Hey. Look at me.” I don’t, but then Colton’s hand is beneath my chin, tilting my head up so I can’t deny him.
“Focus on me. Breathe with me,” he instructs before taking a deep breath in…
and damned if I don’t do the same. When he exhales, I do that with him too.
“That’s it. You’re being so fucking good for me.
Do it again, just like last time. Breathe real slow with me. ”
I do it again, then a third time and a fourth, letting Colton walk me through this, letting him relax me, pull me out of my head and give me something to focus on.
“Good boy. One more,” he says, pulling air into his lungs, then letting it out.
My vision clears, my heart slows. I nuzzle my cheek into his hand before realizing what I’m doing and pushing the rolling chair away from him.
“What the fuck was that? Don’t. We can’t.”
Colton frowns. “That wasn’t about sex. I’m not trying to hit on you. I just…you need to eat. Don’t do that again. No matter what happens, you’re to eat breakfast every morning before you come in.”
He has no business telling me that, and I have none wanting to listen. I’ve never had a Dom tell me to eat before, but then, I’ve never had any kind of relationship with Doms outside of the occasional random scene. This is…different.
“Do you hear me? I want you to eat every day. Breakfast is important.”
I scoff. He’s a child. My student, telling me to eat. “What I do or don’t isn’t your concern.” I stand, straighten my suit, wish I hadn’t liked being told what to do, hadn’t liked being his good boy. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
He watches me, forehead pinched, stare intense. I see his hand twitch, wonder if he wants to spank me for not listening, and God, do I crave that.
“Get out, Mr. Hathaway,” I say, using his last name to build more of a wall between us.
“Eat,” he says again, before walking out of the room.
I don’t leave my office until it’s time for class, and when I get there, an apple and a bagel are waiting for me on the desk. As soon as I get a chance, I eat.