Chapter 23
Tristan
During my next shift, we’re called to respond to a medical emergency at a yoga studio, during which I have to force myself not to laugh.
Turns out it wasn’t an actual emergency. Just a woman who panicked when she was in a particularly complex pose.
I shift in my seat, sensing an opening.
“Speaking of emergencies, I guess, how was the meeting with Abigail’s principal yesterday?”
He cuts his gaze towards me. “It was good. Turns out this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. I was pretty mad that they hadn’t called me before.”
“Yeah, what’s that about?”
He shrugs. “It’s a great school, but they can be pretty old-fashioned sometimes. I guess they didn’t think it was a serious problem until she had a panic attack on the playground.”
“Jesus.”
“Right?”
“How’s Abbie?”
“She’s good. I took her out for ice cream after school yesterday, and then we had a sleepover at my parents’. She always feels better when we’re with them.”
“I bet you’re a good dad.”
He stops for a red light. “You’d have no way of knowing that.”
I frown. “I mean, I’ve never seen you actively parenting, but I’ve seen how you act in emergencies, or even when I had my panic attack the other day. You’re good with people. Isn’t parenting just managing constant crises?”
He smiles. “Sometimes it feels that way.”
I have so many questions I want to ask him, but none of them are appropriate right now.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I really am sorry I had to cancel yesterday’s coffee. I was looking forward to it.”
“I understand.” Then, because he’s been transparent, I add, “I was a little bummed, too. I was also looking forward to it.”
“I was… surprised when I saw you at work the other day. It threw me off. What a coincidence, right?
He shakes his head, still with that slight smile on his handsome face. It makes my stomach churn in a not-unpleasant way.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting it.”
“Well, I didn’t really give you a lot of time to get to know me at the club,” I admit.
“I hope I didn’t scare you off. You left pretty quickly.”
I’m silent for a long moment, collecting my thoughts.
I don’t know how much I can, or want to, share with Nick yet. I don’t want to tell him about Warren.
It’s not that I don’t trust Nick. It’s just that it’s so painful to talk about.
I haven’t talked about Warren with anyone since I moved here. Not Dad, not Bobbie, not Chasten, who is quickly becoming a good friend.
“It wasn’t you,” I assure him. “It’s just…
. Well, I haven’t been out in a while. I was in a pretty serious relationship for a long time, and that ended a year ago.
I’m just getting back out there. And then, to go to a fetish club for my first time out in over a year…
” I laugh. “It was a big step. I’ve never been to a place like that, never tried anything like that, even though I’ve always wanted to.
My—the guy I used to be seeing, he wasn’t interested in BDSM or kink. ”
“And you are?” It’s a direct, refreshingly blunt question.
“I am.”
“Did he make you feel ashamed of it?” Another blunt question, this one a little less refreshing.
Did Warren make me feel ashamed of my interests?
Never intentionally, I think.
Honestly, I didn’t bring it up with him that often. I was only starting to understand my interest in kink when Warren and I started dating.
One time, I asked him to choke me during sex, and afterward, he delicately asked me if I needed to talk about my self-esteem.
After that, I stopped asking.
“No,” I say, though there isn’t much conviction in my voice. “Not on purpose, at least. We were just different, you know? And I never wanted to force him to be rougher than I wanted.” I laugh. “We always said that vanilla was a flavor, and a good flavor at that.”
Nick grins. “Of course vanilla is a flavor, but isn’t spice so much better?”
“Okay, right?” I groan. “Not that I’d know. I’ve never had the chance to try.”
We lapse into silence as we return to the station.
Unspoken words, unspoken questions, hang between us. Neither of us mentions rescheduling coffee.
Maybe we just had the conversation we needed to have.