“What’s wrong, boy?”
This has felt like a game, in some ways, until now.
Now, this is…real.
Terrifyingly real. “What if Mom cuts me off?”
“Breathe, Owen. That’s your anxiety talking. You have your scholarship, the car is in your name, and you have us.”
“What if I can’t afford to pay for any of that?”
Carter stands in front of me and cups my face in his hands. This isn’t the bastard extraordinaire—this is Carter my best friend, my big brother.
My Master. “What did I tell you when we talked that Saturday after your birthday?”
I stare at him and try to remember. We’ve talked so much, about so many things, since that morning. It feels more like years instead of weeks ago.
He leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “What promise did I make you when I asked about what would happen if you stopped texting your mother?”
I’m struggling to draw in full breaths now because anxiety has a stranglehold on my chest, my lungs. “That I’d always have a place to live, Sir.”
“And what did I promise you last night when I asked you to choose this and us?”
Breathing is tricky right now. I feel like I’m not getting enough air. “That you’ll always take care of me.”
“That I willalwaystake care of you,” he says. “Wewill take care of you. You belong tous. Tome. We’ll put you on my car insurance if I have to, and I’ll take up the slack for you in your budget. So will Susa. This is something else I wanted to talk about today. I guess this is as good a time as any. You will give me all your bills so I can go through them. Your first job is to keep your grades up for your scholarship. Your second job is to take care of us. Inthatorder, boy. Nowhere on that list is worrying about money. You need my permission to buy things, anyway. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.” Tears roll down my cheeks but I make no move to wipe them away, per his orders.
I want to be their good boy.
“Our first priority is to take care ofyou,” he continues. “As long as you belong to us, we willalwaystake care of our boy.” He gently wipes away my tears with his thumbs before he slants his lips over mine and kisses me. There is so much emotion in that simple gesture that it makes me cry even harder. These are good tears, though. Cleansing tears.
I want this. As fucked up as it might seem, I want it.
Ineedit.
I needthem.
“The other part of this,” he finally continues, “is if there is something you need, then you tell us. I’ll decide if it’s what you really need. Whether it’s something big, like a transmission for your car, or something small, like a pack of breath mints. I will loosen those restrictions as we go, but for now, unless it specifically relates to your schoolwork or keeping yourself safe, you will default in everything to asking permission or asking for it. The only exception is when you’re out alone, obviously, you don’t need permission to go to the bathroom, or get food with your meal plan, things like that.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you want to know why?”
“Do I need to?”
He pulls back enough I can see his smile. “I want you to understand you can trust me to take care of you. The more I see that you do trust me, the more I’ll relax restrictions. I need you to internalize the fact that I control your life now. I need to know you completely understand and believe that Iwilltake care of you.”
“Yes, Sir.” I get it, I guess. Except I already trust him.
I trust him, and Susa, a hell of a lot more than I’ve ever trusted my mother—which is not at all.
Especially after talking to Dad.
“You realize Daddy’s going to want to murder you, Sir, right?” Susa playfully asks.
Carter laughs. “Your daddy’s going to have to accept you married me without a prenup, pet. Not a damn thing he can do about it, either. The trust owns the house, car, and fund, which I legally can’t touch because they’re pre-marital assets. He doesn’t have to worry about that. By the time he’s figured out a way to murder me without it being traced back to him, we’ll all have passed the bar and be working. Hopefully, by that point, he’ll see that I’m not going anywhere and accept this.”
