Chapter 62
Q uaid sat on the bed and pretended to watch the soap opera blasting on the television.
Last night had been a bit of an eye-opener. Watching Indie with the others, letting her Little slip out, how sweet and fun she was. How they all teased each other and seemed to know exactly what each person needed.
It just made him feel a bit more alone.
It highlighted how much he had missed and how far he had to go.
“Quaid?”
He startled, realizing that the episode had finished and he hadn’t taken in any of it.
Shit.
“Ahh, sorry, baby girl. I missed most of that. Any chance you want to watch it again?”
“It’s all right. I know you hate it.”
“What? No. I don’t.”
“Don’t lie.” She frowned at him. “We’re not supposed to lie to each other. It’s a rule.”
Shit. She wasn’t wrong .
“Sorry.” He winced. “To be honest, it’s kind of growing on me.”
“It is? Even though you can’t understand it?”
“Neither can you,” he said.
“Oh, but I can. I feel what they are feeling. In here.” She tapped her chest, then grinned at him.
“Do you? I guess when you can feel things it’s easier to understand other people’s feelings.”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.
Reaching over, she grasped hold of his hand. “You can feel things, Quaid.”
“Can I? Not like other people. And I can’t really show how I feel, can I? Hell, I can barely stand most people touching me.”
She tilted her head to the side. “But you don’t mind when I touch you.”
“Mind?” he repeated. “No. I want your touch. I . . . crave it.” Did that sound ridiculous? It was the truth, though.
“You do?” she whispered.
“Yeah. When most people touch me, my skin crawls. I had to train myself to accept the guys touch. I didn’t have to do that with you. And if you stopped touching me now, I think something inside me might die.”
“Oh, Quaid,” she whispered. “I won’t ever stop.”
“I think that’s part of the reason I like being a Dom. Because I can control everything when I’m playing with a sub. I control when and if they touch me. What they say and do. I need that control.”
He swallowed heavily. “My father was abusive. He used to think he could beat the emotions out of me. He hated any emotion other than anger, which he felt a lot. But he never displayed empathy or happiness or sadness. What if I’m like him? What if he’s taken those emotions from me?”
“He hasn’t,” she told him fiercely. “I know how much you care about the guys. About me. Would he have ever felt guilt for his actions? Or have tried to make amends?”
He guessed she was right. His father had never guilt over what he’d done to Quaid .
“What about happiness and love?” he asked.
“Do you love me?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Love is . . . I mean, I never knew what it felt like until I met the guys. And even then, it felt more like loyalty and protectiveness. But with you, I feel . . . I feel like I’m not whole without you.
When I’m not with you, you’re all I think about.
I think I reacted so badly when I thought you betrayed us because you’re the only person I’ve ever loved. Fully. Completely.”
She sat up straighter. “Can you get something for me?”
“Sure, what is it?” he asked, surprised.
“In the wardrobe I’ve got a brown backpack, can you get it?”
Getting up, he walked into the wardrobe and returned with the backpack.
“I kept a few things from each of you,” she explained as he sat facing her. “Thankfully, I managed to keep them safe from Billy. Rock has seen them. One was his jumper.”
“Is that the one you wore the night you fell asleep in your playroom wardrobe?”
“You knew about that?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “I was there that night. I put you to bed while Rock went to the bathroom.”
“I thought you were there!” she said. “Did you . . . did you cuddle me?”
“Ah, yeah. I did.”
She smiled at him. “Here I thought I was going nuts. Anyway, I kept Rock’s sweater and a hat that Slade gave me. Also, a photo of me and Spencer on Santa’s knee.” She nodded at the framed photo sitting on her nightstand. “But from you, I kept two things. One was this.”
She showed him a copy of Treasure Island .
“Is that the one I gave you?” he asked, opening it and checking inside. Yep, he’d written her name in it.
“Yes, and this,” she said, showing him the piece of paper.
An algebra test?
“Why this?” he asked .
“You found me awake two in the morning trying to learn algebra for an important test and sent me to bed. I was so stressed, thinking I was going to fail. But the next day, you helped me study and I passed. Which was shocking. This is the test.”
He looked at the test, then up at her. “Can’t believe you kept these.”
She shrugged. “I know it’s sappy, but these things came to mean so much to me. When I was scared or alone or sad, I’d bring them out and look at them. They’d wrap me up in happiness.”
“Baby girl,” he murmured. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I don’t want to fuck this up. To mess you up.
Us up. My father wanted an emotionless, obedient son who would cower to him.
I can’t remember much about my mum. But I do remember that her laugh could light up a room and once she was gone all the color in my life disappeared.
Until I met this cute girl with a love of pompoms and a huge well of fierce loyalty. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
“I won’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not.
But I get it. I do. I’ve felt unworthy before.
I’ve felt like I didn’t belong. Sometimes I suppress how I feel to protect myself.
Feeling love for someone is scary because you could lose them.
But the alternative is to never have them.
And I don’t want to live without you guys. ”
“And we never want to live without you.” He lifted her onto his lap. “I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you too.”