Chapter 48
— Remmy —
For the sixth time in two weeks, I clicked the “upload” button with a flourish, accompanied with a happy little hum, knowing this round would drive Scout wild.
When I first found out that Scout was my secret client, I contemplated contacting Leif for the briefest of moments to pull out of the contract, until I got over myself. Since then, I’d found ways to incorporate Scout’s baseball jerseys into the footage, and found out two days ago that his favorite content so far involved me wearing only his shirt while working magic on the massive black dildo with my feet.
As wickedly sinful as that was, the last fortnight hadn’t all been sunshine and fantasies. It had been fucking grueling. Both Scout and I had commenced therapy for our own special kinds of fucked up. While my reconnecting with Benita was instant since we knew each other well, Scout, on the other hand, was struggling to connect with his therapist. He was jaded and exhausted after each session. Surfacing yet withdrawn and distant. Knowing he was currently downstairs in the living room with Toni, slogging through another session, made my heart squeeze. I prayed that he opened up more today. Prayed today would be the turning point.
So far, since kicking in the bathroom door to find him on his knees a few weeks ago, I believed him when he said he hadn’t purged. He checked in on me each night too. We started leaning on each other properly for support, and I found myself loving him harder than ever.
When I heard farewells, then the front door close downstairs, I picked my way down the carpeted stairs and looked back and forth for Scout.
I found him in the kitchen with his back to me, shoulders bunched as he hunched over the sink, arm braced wide on the counter—just as I’d found him after one of the initial physiotherapy visits.
He straightened as my arms wrapped around his torso from behind, and with a relaxed hum he leaned into me. We’d been navigating our hardest days in unison, supporting the other whenever we needed the physical, emotional, and mental support.
“How did it go?” I ventured. My heart gave a little kick, then bloomed with warmth when Scout turned in my arms.
For me, having sessions with Benita was like using a handbag I had stashed in the back of the closet; I welcomed her familiarity and found comfort in it. For Scout, meeting with Toni was new. They were still building their professional relationship, and he was a dude—a professional sportsman at that—they didn’t like to admit weakness. Ever.
Scout answered after a short pause. “Surprisingly good. Best session yet. I felt more comfortable discussing things with Toni today. She, uh, I learned some more coping techniques for when I get that feeling…”
Relief deflated my body. He was making progress.
Smiling up at him, I cupped his face in my palms and squeezed affectionately. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
His bashful expression and slight dip of his chin filled my entire body with warmth. My big ol’ macho MLB player really was a puppy. A good man with a heart of gold.
“You tell me that in my kitchen after being psychoanalyzed, but not at the ballpark after I’ve smashed another game?”
His chuckle vibrated under my hands, then again when I smooshed his cheeks together. “Everyone gets to be high off the hype after a game and tell you how proud they are of you. But they don’t see this. They don’t get to see what it’s like behind closed doors—when times are the hardest. That’s why I’m extra proud of you, Ace,” I repeated, staring directly into his eyes with sincerity I felt achingly deep in my chest.
Bone-liquifying intensity stared right back. My breath stilled. Jaw slackened. Mouth grew void of moisture.
Since meeting Scout, I’d discovered a new addiction: the way his gaze penetrated every layer of my carefully constructed amour.
A smile touched his mouth, right before he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of my hand.
“And I’m proud of you too, honey. For choosing to fight for yourself, and for being unapologetic and unashamedly you.”
I could have deflected. Could have squeezed his cheeks again and made light of his words, but I found myself swallowing thickly, trying to ease the crush on my chest. The weight of his words and gaze settled there. Right over my heart.
Scout’s steady gaze turned serious as a little crease formed between his eyebrows. He shifted a little on his feet, seemingly—and uncharacteristically—nervous.
“Toni also gave an official diagnosis today…”
My pulse tripped. “Oh?”
Scout swallowed and dipped his head to avoid eye contact. “It’s not bulimia. She believes it’s more in line with a condition called Self-Induced Functional Vomiting. It’s basically a way to cope with psychological and emotional stress and anxiety.”
God how that crushed my soul. “I’m both sorry and relieved for you,” I murmured, wishing I could wrap him in hug that took this all away.
He smiled wearily and smoothed down my hair. “Toni gave me something to work on together, if you’re open to it?”
My brows lifted in surprise, but I said, “Of course. Anything,” without hesitation.
His little nod released a plume of butterflies in my belly. Lord he was too cute like this.
“Sooo, she suggested I talk through my triggers with you since you are—” The furrow deepened, so I finished the sentence for him.
“Since I’m one of them.” He started to interject, but I waved a hand. “Honestly, it’s the truth. Hell, sometimes I’m a trigger to myself, so I totally get it.”
With his injured arm still restrained within a brace but that hand resting on the curve on my waist, he smoothed the other up and down my arm.
“That’s not what I meant, honey. I’m coming from a ‘you’ve seen things that trigger me’ perspective; the things out of my control.” A cheeky smirk tugged at his mouth. “You’re one of those things, but the difference is that I don’t want to control you; I want to shield you from the spotlight that comes with the territory of being with someone like me.”
“Ego much,” I teased, earning an ass squeeze.
“I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m kinda a big deal, babe,” he drawled with another hearty squeeze.
I checked my midnight-purple nails—freshly manicured after a brunch catch up with the girlies last week—and hummed dismissively. “Oh really? I’ve hardly noticed. I tell you who I did notice though—”
My head snapped back with the force of Scout’s lips hitting mine. He didn’t grant me a second to recover before demanding access with a pressured swipe of his tongue. I fisted the front of his shirt as his fingers wove through the hair at the nape of my neck. Even if I wanted to pull away, I wasn’t going anywhere.
Locked in a searing kiss I didn’t see coming, I didn’t want to leave either. Not when my back arched, and my breasts pressed against his hard chest. The possessive tug to my hair that angled my head further to the side sent a bolt of arousal between my legs.
I yelped when Scout spun us without warning, pinning me to the kitchen island with his hips jutting into mine. We both panted, fighting for breath. And his eyes… My god they were dark and stormy and fevered. I expected him to sink to his knees, taking my little black denim shorts with him, but he surprised the fuck out of me yet again.
His forehead came to mine, our exhales mixing. I even tried pressing on his shoulders to coax him to his knees, but to no avail. Instead, he chuckled.
“Gotta try harder than that, honey.”
“It works when guys do it,” I drawled.
Another puff of humor hit my lips, yet his voice came gritty. “I’ve never had to force you to your knees, Remmington.”
“That’s because your cock is my favorite to suck.”
“Christ, fuck me to tears,” he murmured against my mouth, rolling his forehead back and forth a little. “You and your dirty mouth.” He stole another brief, heated kiss. “You’re meant to be helping me with my therapy homework, not getting me hot and panting.”
I dragged one long fingernail down the center of his chest, making the soft fabric of his t-shirt pucker. “This is much more fun.”
He chuckled, low and gritty. “I agree. But I want to ace my class.”
Biting down on a smile, I nodded, then pressed a kiss to his relaxed mouth. “I have no doubt you will. Are you hungry? Let’s make snacks, then we can pig out while smashing your homework.”
He agreed, then winced briefly, trying to cover the reaction as an itchy eye.
It tugged on my soul when he did that—tried to disguise his pain niggles as a twitch. It had my chest blooming with respect, but little slices of sadness always crept free.
I gently clasped his wrist and drew it downward. “Please,” came out as a whisper, “don’t hide your pain. It’s okay… I’m okay again.”
Ever since I’d broken down, almost succumbing to my demons, he hadn’t so much as popped a vitamin in front of me. But I was stronger again now. The dark, slithering voices had receded back into the deep recesses they came from, leaving behind nothing but the barest hazy shadow once more.
Scout squeezed my hand. “Grab me a tube of Pringles and whatever you want too, while I go get something. I’ll meet you in the living room, honey.”