Chapter 18 Griffin
GRIFFIN
Time passed like I was in a dream.
I slept, and I woke to visit the bathroom again, stumbling there and back with Toby at my side. My only waking thought was why, because he’d had every opportunity to flee… but he’d stayed.
I wanted to believe he stayed because he wanted to — because of me — but I knew better. He might have smiled for me, might have played with me, but that wasn’t enough to keep him there.
But he stayed anyway.
He was there every time I opened my eyes, offering water or a cool rag, or helping me into the bathroom.
If I’d have had the energy to be humiliated, I’d have been that and more for him seeing me in the throes of sickness.
It wasn’t a good look on me, but he’d never looked at me like I was hideous or asking too much…
Because I didn’t have to ask at all.
I’d selfishly asked him to stay once, but that had been it. Everything else had been offered before I’d even had time to think about it, and he took care of me every bit as tenderly as he might have a lover.
I didn’t deserve it.
I didn’t deserve him.
When I finally woke to a clear head, he was asleep next to me.
He was curled on his side, and it looked like he’d fallen asleep waiting for me to get up again.
It was the first time I’d woken to find him sleeping.
Usually he was watching TV and waiting for me to wake up.
It gave me a moment to watch him, and I reached out to slowly brush a few strands of hair from his face.
I breathed in deep, memorizing the sight of him there, so peaceful and beautiful as he slept. This was when he was most at peace, when he had no concerns at all and could just drift in dreamland.
I wondered what he was dreaming.
Was he dreaming about freedom? Was he back home?
Was he kissing his girlfriend?
This time, the possessive jealousy faded quickly into sadness.
I’d never really cared that I’d taken him away from his life before, but now… Now I couldn’t think about anything else. He’d lost everything, but he’d stayed when he’d had the chance to go. Had I broken him down too much? Or was there something inside of him that had begun to care for me?
I’d tried to ask, but he’d shushed me each time instead of answering… and there was a part of me that was just… happy not to know.
I thought about food, but my stomach churned in protest at the mere thought. I definitely wasn’t ready to go back to normal, but I was at least able to think about sitting up without wanting to vomit. It was a definite improvement over the past few days.
The next time I touched his hair, stroking the soft locks, he stirred. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and he offered me a sleepy smile that went straight to my heart.
He smiled at me.
It didn’t last long, but it was replaced with very real-looking concern. “Are you feeling better? I… I was worried, but I didn’t really know how to get a doctor out here…”
And that would’ve caused more problems than it would’ve solved.
“Much better,” I reassured him, touching his cheek before letting my hand fall away from his bare skin.
He was partially dressed, I realized, wearing one of my shirts. It looked ridiculous on him, but it was sort of cute, too. I liked the way he looked in it. It inhibited my view of the nude body I’d gotten used to gazing at, but it was the mark of something else that I couldn’t deny I liked.
I was so fucked.
So fucking fucked.
“I wanted to cook breakfast for you,” I said softly, “but the idea of being around food…” I grimaced and shook my head. “A little too much right now.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not really hungry anyway.”
I was used to feeding him as soon as I got up, but I realized I didn’t even know what time of day it was. Breakfast might not have even been the right meal anyway.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Are you?” he countered.
I sighed. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I pointed out.
“Not right now,” he told me. “Right now, you’re the one who needs to be taken care of.”
“Why are you taking care of me?” I asked, unable to hold the question back any longer.
It was his turn to sigh. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
“You could’ve run away.”
“I could have,” he agreed.
“So why didn’t you?” I knew what I wanted the answer to be, but I wasn’t sure I could expect it or anything like it.
“I don’t know,” he said again. He wouldn’t look at me. He sat up, drawing his knees against his chest, and rested his chin atop them, gazing out over my room. “I really don’t.”
Not the answer I’d wanted or even expected. I didn’t know what to say, though. Was there even anything to say?
I sat up, opening my arms to him in a silent bid for him to come nearer.
He gazed at me for a moment, expression unreadable, before he moved closer.
He pressed his back against me, and I wrapped my arms around him.
I buried my face in his hair, and it smelled like my shampoo.
He’d been keeping himself clean and fed, and I was suddenly glad he’d had so much freedom when I’d gotten sick.
What would’ve happened if he’d been in the basement when I’d fallen ill?
Guilt gnawed at me. What if something had actually happened to me while he’d been locked in his kennel or downstairs? No one would find him, not until it was too late.
No one would find either of us.
I’d been so determined to keep him close that I hadn’t thought about what would happen when he was suspended in my reality instead of his own.
That was when I knew what I had to do.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I pulled him tighter against me. I didn’t want to let him go, but I couldn’t keep him anymore. He wasn’t mine to have. He never had been. I’d taken so much away from him, and it had been selfish.
When had I become someone capable of doing this?
I kissed the top of his head, trembling, and I didn’t know if I could do it.
I didn’t know if I could keep him, not after he’d stayed.
It made no sense. I should’ve been grateful to him — and I was. At the same time, there was so much more.
“What would you do if I set you free?” I whispered into his ear.
He stiffened against me, going utterly still. For several moments, we sat there in silence. Finally, he replied, “I’d leave.”
“Why did you stay?” I asked again, more desperate. “You could’ve just left.”
“I couldn’t leave you like that,” he said, misery dripping from his voice. “It just… isn’t me.”
Once upon a time, it hadn’t been me either.
It would’ve been so much easier if he’d run when I was in the throes of illness, when it was his choice alone. Being a part of the decision threatened to break me, and I didn’t know if I could really do it.
But I had to.
“Thank you.”
He nodded instead of speaking, and I realized I wasn’t the only one shaking. He was too, and his trembling was more violent than mine. I kept him close, not wanting to see his face — not daring to look into his eyes where I might have to see hatred or resentment…
Or worse, resignation.
Maybe I really had broken him.
That was what I’d wanted at first. When had it changed?
“Ryder,” I said softly.
He jerked in my arms, swiveling around to stare at me with utter shock in his features.
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I closed mine instead, not daring to look at him.
“You can leave,” I said, and it was nearly impossible not to choke on the words.
I didn’t want him to leave. So desperately, I didn’t want him to leave.
Sure, I didn’t want to go to jail, but more than that…
I wanted him to choose to stay with me because he wanted to, not out of a sense of obligation.
“What?”
“You can leave,” I repeated, releasing him from my arms. He didn’t move, still leaning against me, and I could feel the heat of his stare upon me. I wanted him to get up and leave, to stop making this so agonizing. Once he was gone, I could prepare myself for the inevitable.
I pulled away, and he let me. I opened my eyes, looking past him, around him, anywhere but at him.
“I have your clothes,” I said, getting off the bed.
“I—”
“I’ll get them for you,” I interrupted, not wanting to hear what he had to say. I couldn’t bear it.
I went to the closet, pulling down the box. I didn’t know why I’d kept his clothes. It wasn’t like I looked at them or thought about them much. Maybe there had been a part of me that had known he might need them again. Maybe I’d known this would happen all along, somewhere deep inside of me.
Maybe I’d wanted to get caught.
I brought him the box, and he stared, wide-eyed, at it.
“Go on,” I said, pushing it at him. My voice cracked, and I averted my eyes again. “Get dressed. You can go. I…” I swallowed hard, trying not to let the despair into my voice. “Thank you for taking care of me. I didn’t deserve that.”
“Griffin,” he whispered.
I flinched. “Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
“What do you want me to call you?” he asked. “Master?”
I flinched again. “I don’t fucking know. Just don’t call me by my name.”
I didn’t deserve that either.
I didn’t deserve him.
“Put your clothes on, and get out,” I told him roughly. “I’ll call you an Uber.”
“And what are you going to do?” he asked softly. “When I leave?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” I snarled.
“The harness,” he said, and I couldn’t tell what was in his voice. “It…”
It was locked on him. “Come here,” I said. I retrieved the key to the little locks and yanked them open, helping him get the leather harness off. It hurt to see it come off of him, to have to stare at his naked body and know he was going to leave me.
“What if I don’t want to go?” he asked, the words almost too soft to hear.
“You already said you did,” I said, my heart racing. I looked at him then, hardly daring to meet his eyes. I didn’t know what I saw in his gaze even then, no matter how much I wanted to understand it. “You don’t really want to stay here with me.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I guess I don’t.”
I turned away from him, my heart breaking. So badly, I wanted him to choose me, but he was going to leave — and I didn’t blame him. I’d have left too, given the chance. I wouldn’t have chosen to stay with a scared bastard like me either.
I could hear him return to the bed and reach into the box, his clothing rustling as he put it on. I wanted to beg him to stay, to sob, to break down, to do something to keep him there with me…
But I’d done that enough. I’d already taken so much from him, and he had a chance to reclaim it. He’d saved me, and it was only fair that I save him, too.
He came to me, then, fully dressed and without the cat ears, collar, or tail, and he cupped my cheeks with his hands.
I looked down at him, just in time for him to kiss me sweetly.
“Goodbye,” he whispered.
Then he was gone.