CHAPTER ELEVEN
Palisade
When I woke that morning, Easton was already gone.
I'd heard his truck start around six, before Casey's alarm, before the sun was fully up. Part of me had wanted to go downstairs, to say something about last night, to acknowledge what had almost happened in the guest room doorway.
But I'd stayed in bed, listening to the sound of his engine fading down the street, and told myself it was for the best.
Getting Casey ready for school felt mechanical. Toast. Backpack. Hair brushed. Shoes on. She chattered about her science project, about whether Easton would come to Wednesday dinner this week, about how she couldn't wait to skate again.
I made appropriate sounds, nodded in the right places, and tried not to think about the way his hands had felt on my waist. The way his voice had dropped when he'd said my name. The way I'd wanted to close that last inch between us and just—
My phone buzzed as I pulled into the clinic parking lot.
Easton:
Emergency came up. Can't make it to the clinic today. Sorry.
I stared at the message, my stomach twisting.
Emergency. Right.
Or he was avoiding me after last night. After I'd pushed him away again. After I'd stood there in his arms wanting him and then running like a coward.
I typed and deleted three different responses before settling on: Everything okay?
The read receipt showed he'd seen it immediately.
No response.
"Asshole," I muttered, shoving my phone in my pocket and heading inside.
The day crawled.
Monique noticed my mood around noon when I snapped at her over a misfiled chart. "You okay, Dr. Honors?"
"Fine," I said, softening my tone. "Sorry. Just… a long night."
"Easton's not coming in today, is he?"
"No." I grabbed a mop with more force than necessary. "We'll manage."
But his absence was everywhere. The kennels cleaned. The inventory he'd been reorganizing. The empty spot by the sink where he'd stand, rolling up his sleeves, making some dry comment that would make me smile despite myself.
I'd gotten used to him. To his presence. To the way he fit into the rhythm of the clinic, like he'd always been here.
And now he was gone, and I had no idea if it was temporary or if I'd finally pushed him away for good.
"Dr. Honors?" Monique's voice carried from reception. "Your last appointment just left. Want me to lock up?"
"Please," I called back. "I'll finish the charts."
But I didn't move toward the charts. Instead, I stood in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
My cheeks were flushed. My lips parted, like they were still waiting for a kiss that never came.
I touched my fingers to my mouth, remembering the way he'd looked at me last night. The heat in his eyes. The certainty in his voice when he'd said, "This hasn't changed."
He was right.
Nothing had changed. The want was still there. The pull between us was still magnetic, still impossible to ignore.
And I was terrified.
Terrified of what would happen if I let myself have him. Terrified of what would happen when the truth came out. Terrified that I was falling for him all over again, and there was no way this ended without someone getting hurt.
My phone buzzed.
Holly:
Wine night? I'm picking up Thai food.
Relief flooded through me. I needed my best friend's perspective, even if I couldn't tell her everything.
Me:
My place. 7pm.
Two hours later, Holly sat cross-legged on my couch, spring rolls balanced on her lap as she studied my face with unnerving accuracy.
"So," she said, reaching for her wine glass. "Want to tell me why you look like you've been hit by a truck, or should I guess?"
"It's nothing." I took a large swallow of wine, hoping it would calm the restless energy thrumming through my body.
"Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of England." Holly set down her food, giving me her full attention. "This is about Easton, isn't it?"
I groaned, dropping my head back against the couch. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who's known you since you were ten." She smiled sympathetically. "What happened?"
"We almost kissed. Last night. At my house, after Casey had a nightmare.
" The words tumbled out. "He stayed over in the guest room, and we were in the hallway, and we were so close, and I wanted him to, but then I stopped him.
And Holly, every time we're alone, the tension keeps building, and I don't know how much longer I can—"
I stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
"How much longer can you resist?" Holly supplied gently.
"It's not just about resisting." I set down my wine, wrapping my arms around myself. "Casey's comfortable with him as Uncle Easton, and we're in a good place. And if I sleep with him and it's a disaster, then what? Casey loses him because her mother couldn't keep it in her pants?"
Holly was quiet for a moment, twirling her wine glass.
I took a breath. "Actually, I… I looked at that website you mentioned. Sassy's."
Holly's eyebrows shot up. "You did?"
"Last night. After…" I gestured vaguely. "After everything. I couldn't sleep, and I was thinking about what you'd said, and I just… looked."
"And?"
"And I don't know." I pulled a throw pillow onto my lap, needing something to hold. "The idea of it, of letting go, not having to think or plan or carry everything… It's appealing. But when I was reading through it, picturing what it would be like…" I trailed off.
"You pictured Easton," Holly said softly.
I nodded, heat crawling up my neck. "I can't even fantasize about anonymous strangers. It's just him. His hands. His voice. And that's the whole problem, isn't it? The point of a place like that is supposed to be separation. Physical without emotional. But with him, I can't separate anything."
Holly leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "You know, Sassy's has this feature. An anonymous matching service."
"What do you mean?"
"If you're not ready to just show up and navigate it yourself, you can submit a request through their website. You fill out a compatibility form. It has preferences, limits, and experience level, and then you’re matched with a compatible Dom.
" Holly took a sip of wine. "Then you meet in person at the club.
Everyone wears masks, so it's still anonymous.
No real names, no photos, just… connection based on compatibility and chemistry. "
My heart rate picked up. "You meet them without knowing who they are?"
"That's kind of the point. It removes all the outside stuff like jobs, status, history.
You're just two people exploring a dynamic.
" She shrugged. "After you meet, if there's chemistry, you decide together how to proceed.
Some people keep it anonymous and only meet at the club.
Others eventually unmask and see where it goes outside those walls. "
I chewed my bottom lip, considering. "And people actually do this?"
"According to their website, it's pretty popular.
Some people find the anonymity freeing. It lets them explore without judgment or preconceptions.
" She reached over and squeezed my hand.
"Look, I'm not trying to push you into anything.
I just know you're wound so tight you're about to snap, and sleeping with Easton while you're keeping this secret from him?
That feels like it would make everything more complicated. "
She was right. God, she was right.
If I slept with Easton now, before telling him about Casey, it would be another lie. Another layer of deception. And when the truth came out, it would be that much worse.
But the idea of exploring with someone else, even anonymously, felt wrong too. Like a betrayal of something I didn't even have the right to claim.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted quietly.
"None of us do," Holly said, raising her wine glass. "We're all just fumbling through, trying not to fuck up too badly."
We clinked glasses, and she shifted gears. "Speaking of fumbling, Nathan Daniels is driving me insane."
"Nathan from the Shadow Wolves?" I asked, grateful for the subject change. "The one who gave Casey the puck at the hospital?"
"That's the one. Marketing director, workaholic, and completely oblivious." Holly grabbed another spring roll. "Brenna's been crushing on him for months, and he has no clue."
"Brenna from the arena?" I remembered her. She wore a sleek ponytail, a warm smile, the woman who'd set up the suite for Casey. "She seemed really sweet."
"She is. Too sweet for her own good sometimes.
" Holly's expression softened with sympathy.
"She's having a rough time at home. Lives with her mom, who's…
not great to her. Really critical, controlling.
Brenna works her ass off for the Wolves, stays late, volunteers for everything, and her mom still tears her down. "
My chest tightened. "That's awful."
"Yeah. I think that's part of why she won't make a move on Nathan. Her mom's already on her case about her age. Brenna's thirty-three and still single, apparently." Holly rolled her eyes. "And Nathan's twenty-seven, so there's an six-year gap. Her mom would have a field day with that."
"Six years isn't that much," I said.
"Right? But try telling Brenna that. She's convinced Nathan sees her as some older colleague, not someone he'd be interested in." Holly shook her head. "Meanwhile, the man lights up every time she walks into a room. It's painful to watch."
"Does he know she's interested?"
"Absolutely not. Nathan's brilliant with marketing strategy but completely hopeless with people. He probably thinks she's just being friendly." Holly sighed. "I keep hoping one of them will figure it out, but at this rate, they'll both still be pining when they're fifty."
"Maybe you should tell him," I suggested.
"And interfere? No way. That's their mess to figure out." She grinned. "I'm just enjoying watching them dance around each other. It's better than reality TV."
We spent the rest of the evening dissecting Holly's work drama, gossiping about mutual friends, and avoiding any further mention of Easton or tension-release strategies.
But later, after Holly left, and I was alone in my quiet house, her words echoed in my head.
Anonymous search function. No real names. A way to explore without consequences.
I pulled up the Sassy's website on my phone, navigating past the main pages to the member portal. There was the discreet link labeled Compatibility Matching.
My finger hovered over it.
The form looked straightforward. Preferences. Limits. Experience level. And what I was looking for.
Exploration, release, and connection.
I read through the questions, filling nothing in.
Describe your ideal dynamic.
Hard limits.
What are you hoping to gain from this experience?
My mind supplied answers before I could stop it.
Someone patient.
Commanding but not cruel.
Someone who would make me feel safe enough to let go.
But every scenario I pictured had the same blue eyes. The same rough voice. The same hands that had held me in the hallway just hours ago.
I closed the browser and set my phone aside.
This was insane. All of it.
But as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I couldn't stop thinking about it. About surrender. About release. About what it would feel like to stop carrying everything alone, even if just for a few hours.
About whether I was brave enough to actually do something about it.