Chapter 15 #3
I stared at the screen for half a second.
Okay, maybe to text him.
I stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering, pulse a little too loud in my ears.
My teeth pressed into my bottom lip, eyes scanning the top of the screen… and then I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
My stomach dropped and flipped at the same time, heat burning my cheeks and the tips of my ears.
My fingers moved before I could overthink it.
Archie: Did you change your name in my phone to Daddy?
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
My breath caught a little as I watched it, stupidly locked in.
Daddy: Yes.
Daddy: You seem to continuously need reminding who you belong to.
My back hit the bathroom door, breath leaving me in a quiet rush. Head spinning and cock filling, I pressed the heel of my palm along the length.
Jesus.
Daddy: you need something, Rabbit? Everything okay?
Archie: I just… miss you.
Daddy: miss you too baby. madly.
My thumb hovered, then moved again before I could think better of it.
Archie: i just
Archie: i keep thinking about yesterday
The typing bubble paused this time.
Then—
Daddy: Tell me what you’re thinking about, Rabbit.
My head tipped back against the door, eyes closing for a second as I exhaled slowly through my nose.
Archie: your office
Archie: your chair
Archie: i keep wanting to sit there again
My tongue dragged over my bottom lip.
Archie: on your lap and just curl up
Archie: i miss how warm you are
Archie: you smell good too
Archie: and you kiss like a God.
The response didn’t come immediately this time
My brain filled the silence for him—his hand at the back of my neck, his voice low in my ear, his mouth on mine and his hands… everywhere.
Daddy: just kiss?
My breath stuttered.
I pressed my head back against the door again, eyes squeezing shut for a second. Behind my zipper, my cocked ached, and I increased the pressure just enough to make my eyes roll.
And then I forced my hand away.
Archibald Christopher Quinn, you’re in your mother’s house for fuck’s sake.
Daddy: you want your daddy, sweetheart?
Archie: very much
Archie: but what about your meeting?
Daddy: fuck the meeting
My fingers hovered over the screen, but I didn’t type again.
Not yet.
If I kept going, I wasn’t walking back out of this bathroom normal.
And Rhys was already insufferable enough.
I exhaled slowly, thumb tapping the side of my phone before I locked the screen.
I’ll call him after lunch.
That felt less likely to completely derail me in the middle of my mom’s kitchen.
My reflection caught in the mirror when I pushed off the door—flushed and a little unfocused, as though I’d just run a mile instead of walked ten feet down a hallway.
I turned the faucet on, took off my glasses, and splashed cold water over my face, sucking in a sharp breath as it hit.
Water dripped down my jaw, soaking into the collar of my shirt as I braced my hands against the sink, breathing through it.
Reaching for a towel, I dragged it down my face and shoved my glasses back up my nose before reaching for the door.
I wrapped my fingers around the handle and twisted.
Nothing.
Frowning, I shifted my grip, giving it a sharper turn.
The handle moved—
—and then gave.
A soft, ugly crack sounded, and suddenly the whole thing sagged in my hand, tilting down at an angle it definitely wasn’t supposed to.
I stared at it for a second, blinking, like if I waited long enough it would fix itself.
The screws were half-pulled out of the wood, rusted and loose, the plate hanging just enough to make the whole mechanism useless.
I tried again anyway, pushing the door with my shoulder this time, twisting what was left of the handle.
It didn’t budge.
For a second, I just stood there, hand still wrapped around the useless handle, waiting for my brain to catch up.
A dense, stale pressure closed on me from all sides. Fingers shaking, they slipped off the handle and dropped to my sides.
My eyes pinged through the room like there was another way to get out.
No. No. No.
My hand snapped back to the handle, yanking it harder this time, metal rattling uselessly against wood.
“Rhys.” My palm slammed flat against the wood. “Rhys!”
God.
My lungs seized, and I clawed at my shirt, tearing into the fabric.
“Rhys!”
There was a shuffle outside the door. “Arch?”
Help me.
“It’s stuck,” I choked. “Rhys, the door is stuck. I can’t get it open. I need—”
“Okay. Hey, okay. Hold on, I’m right here.”
The handle rattled from the other side.
Nausea rolled over me.
Trapped.
You’re trapped.
“No, no, no.”
Not again.
My fists rained down against the wood. “Get me out,” I choked. “Get me out, get me out, get me out.”
“Hey. Hey, I’ve got you.” Rhys swore. “This isn’t forever, okay? We’re gonna get you out.”
My head shook hard. “Rhys!”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” The handle rattled again, harder this time. “Give me a second.”
“I can’t—” My breath broke, hands dragging down the door before coming back up again. “I can’t—”
“You can,” he cut in, sharp enough to break through the spiral for half a second. “You can, Arch. I need you to breathe for me, alright? In. Out. Stay with me.”
The inhale caught halfway, and then splintered, like my lungs forgot how to finish the job.
My vision blurred at the edges, the walls folding inward instead of staying where they were supposed to be.
No.
I slammed my forehead against the door, choking.
Not here.
Not again.
My body didn’t care what year it was.
It dropped me back anyway—listening to the house breathe around me, every locked door a rule I wasn’t allowed to break
Don’t go outside.
Don’t open the front door.
Don’t leave.
My chest seized.
“I can’t—”
The buzzing in my arms spread, sharp and electric, down into my hands, up into my shoulders. My whole body was trying to run without anywhere to go.
“Arch—hey—hey, listen to me.”
His voice cut through, closer now, right at the door.
“I’m right here, okay? You’re not stuck like that. This isn’t the same.”
Don’t leave.
Don’t leave.
Don’t leave.
My forehead hit the wood again, harder this time, like I could knock the thought loose.
“I can’t breathe,” I choked, even though I technically was. “I can’t—”
“You are,” he said immediately. “You are breathing. It just feels wrong right now. Stay with me.”
Metal scraped again on the other side—something hitting the handle, harder.
“Rhys—”
“I’ve got it,” he said, but I could hear the strain now. “Just stay with me. In for four—”
The room flickered again at the edges.
My chest hitched, another breath catching wrong, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Get me out,” I whispered this time, voice gone raw. “Please… just get me out.”