I realize only after he says it that, yes, I’m gasping for air. I have to lean forward, my hands braced on the counter, eyes closed. I think I’m close to a panic attack. I’ve had a couple in my life, during the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, before I was certain I’d landed my scholarship. I never told anyone about them, afraid that would bring more of Mom’s wrath upon me for being “weak.”
Because I also worried it would provide an additional easy target for her to wound me.
Carter’s hand settles between my shoulder blades. “Owen, you’re a submissive. I’ve had a feeling you were ever since we met. I’vebeenwhere you are. Iknowwhat you want, what youneed. I also know how terrifying it is admitting it. Please, let me help you.”
Part of me wants to say yes right now.
Part of me wishes he was Susa.
The two parts of me are at war, but kinda on the same…side, I guess?
“I’m so confused.”
“I know, buddy.” Everything about Carter right now seems gentle and tender, like I’m a frightened horse he’s trying to calm. I get that. The rational part of my brain that excelled on my SAT scores and had the stratospheric GPA in high schoolunderstandsthis.
The part of me I’ve always kept locked tightly away and been terrified to show to anyone else is screaming to be acknowledged and finally set free.
So to speak.
I’m crying and don’t even realize it until I hear the sound of paper towel ripping and he dabs my cheeks with it. The other hand doesn’t leave my back.
“Owen, there’snothingwrong with you. Not a damn thing. Some people are dominant in all areas of their life. Some are dominant in nearly every other part of their lives, and being submissive for a little while is a mental and emotional vacation for them. Some people are submissive more often. Some are what are called Alpha submissives. And some people are switches.”
I struggle to absorb his words. “What are you?”
“Started out submissive, situationally. Became switchy. Now, I’m a Dominant. And that happens, too. People evolve. Start out one thing and realize later they’re something else. Or they’re one thing in one situation, and another thing in others. There’s no right or wrong.”
Oooooh, yes, there is. Especially in my mother’s house.
“Do your parents or family…know?” I ask.
Now he snorts. “Hell, no. That all happened in Germany, when I was in the Army.” A soft sigh escapes him. “We can talk about all that, too. Most of it. Some of it’s still too difficult for me to talk about. Too…raw.”
I think about what he’d said about a situation not working out. “The woman you got the vasectomy for?” I force myself to look him in the face, even though I can’t quite bring myself to look him in the eyes yet. So I focus on his lips. Morning stubble shadows his cheeks, as it does mine.
He nods. “Yeah. This is one of those times I’m going to ask you not to repeat what we talk about, and I’ll give you the same courtesy. Not even with Susa. Okay?”
I suck in a shaky breath. Carter’s presence in my life, from day one, has been nothing but…good.
My anti-Mom.
“Yes, Sir.”
There’s a ray of joy so sweet and pure in the look he gives me that it makes something inside me respond, beg for more, like part of him is calling out to me.
I’m still perched on that precipice and looking down on both sides.
Do I return to what I know? A miserably closeted life where I’m too afraid to confide in anyone and I hide the real me?
Or do I allow Carter to coax me down and trust him to catch me?
My life has been spent in fear, in useless attempts to make my mother happy, all so she’ll love me.
All so she’llwantme.
Carter wants me, who I am and the way that I am.
I force myself to look him in the eyes. “This is between us?”
