“Should I?”
“Probably. It stands for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional.” She pauses, clearly for dramatic effect. “Wanna try again, Hayes? Are you reallyfine?”
I rear my head back and squint at her assessment. “How very therapeutic of you. I’ll claim the F… but that’s it.”
“After ten years of college, including post-grad and way more money than I’d like to think about, I should hope so.”
“Wow. You said you wanted to become a therapist and you fucking did it. Nice job.”
Again… she doesn’t respond to my praise. Not like she needs it.
“Thank you,” she finally says, softly. “I fucked up and I don’t deserve it, though. I’m contemplating surrendering it.”
“What did you do?”
She lifts her head and considers me a moment through her still droopy eyes. “One day… there was this patient. She had recently been rejected and disowned by her parents when she came out as gay. This girl was easily the most beautiful I’d ever seen, but she was also so fucking sad and needed help unraveling everything that comes with the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, abandoning you because of who you are.”
Shit.
Her lips purse, like she’s pondering what to say next. “One day, this girl was struggling to acknowledge and express the devastation she was living with.” She lets out a long, slow breath. “So I suggested some techniques and when she chose the one she wanted to try… it ended with me quitting as her therapist and becoming her Domme.”
Her brows furrow and a light blush makes its way onto her neck.
I swallow thickly, “Then what?”
A lone tear falls down her cheek. “Then… she became so much more and I fell in love with her.” Another tear. “Then I broke her heart.”
I glance up at Demi’s sleeping form, snuggled under the covers. She’s still passed out.
I’m not sure which part of what she just told me is more tragic.
Slowly, I reach up and swipe the rogue tear from her face. “I have a feeling the girl was smart enough to make her own decisions, probably knew the risks and decided you were worth it,” I offer quietly.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m the professional. I should know better than to get involved with a patient. Especially one that was so vulnerable. I was wrong, Hayes.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” I look up at Demi again. “I’d be willing to bet your darling girl won’t either.”
“That’s not the point and you know it,” she scoffs.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t think you have to go all ‘ultimate sacrifice’and lose everything you built. It’s not like you’re planning on corrupting any other patients.” My lips curve into a slight smirk.
She slaps my arm playfully, laughing as she says, “I didnotcorrupt her!”
I give her my best side-eye.
A tiny giggle slips out as she turns her head to stare down at her hands. “Okay, fine. Maybe, I corrupted her a little.”
Fuck, it’s nice to see her smile. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I saw how you were with her and what you did to her with just your fingers.Thatwas… extraordinary.”
We sit in silence for a little while, neither of us knowing how to fill the awkward, yet somehow peaceful silence.
Finally, I sigh. “I didn’t know her parents did that to her. She’s been very vague about her past.” That thought hits me square in the chest. I know Demi, but Raeganknowsher more intimately than I ever could. Did she not feel safe enough to tell me?
“She’s–”
Raegan moves her hand and places it on mine, squeezing slightly as she says, “Demetria has always had a lot of feelings she doesn’t know what to do with. She’s an empathetic soul. My guess… is if she didn’t tell you, it isn’t because she doesn’t trust you. It’s more likely that she’s put her own shit on the back burner so she doesn’t accidentally put it on you to carry for her. I’m guessing she also didn’t tell you she comes from big, religious Kansas money and when her parents gave up on her, they took all of her access to funds with them.”
“Shit. No, she didn’t tell me any of that. But I guess that explains why she lives with her friend.”
