Page 123 of Axe Marks the Spot

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know that”—Dane grins as he pulls out a lacy bralette from my laundry basket—“but I want to.”

“Well, thanks. You’ve helped so much already today. I owe you for folding laundry with me.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I told you, I’m happy to help.”

His words turn my insides to goo. Accepting help isn’t something that’s been easy for me, but Dane, he’s different. It’s probably because of our dynamic, but at the same time, I believe him when he says he wants to help. He doesn’t make me feel like a burden, and in the hours that we’ve been together, nothing has felt forced or weird. It’s just been…good. Easy. Easier than any relationship has been in my life.

I pick up the pants from a pair of scrubs to fold them, a reminder that I have work tonight. I usually don’t mind going—I like what I do—but I’d rather stay here all night with Dane.

“You know…” I point at the now-folded bralette he put on a pile of other underthings. “I was wearing that the day I ran into you at the games.”

He looks down at it, then, before I can comprehend what he’s doing, he snatches it and shoves the thin material in his pocket with a sly smile.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“Keeping it.”

“Starting a collection?”

“You could say that,” he says as he picks up the last item to fold.

When I asked him for my underwear earlier at his place, he told me no, that he was keeping them. I blushed, but secretly, I loved it. I love that he wanted to keep a piece of me, a souvenir of our first night together.

I don’t know what he plans on doing with them, but it isn’t my job to know. Dane is my Dom, and if he wants something, I’m learning that I give it to him without question as long as I’m comfortable with it.

Our session by the fireplace earlier only showed me even more how much he cares. Especially with the promise of building toward a training collar. It proved to me that he’s not just committed to the dynamic we’re building but to my life and mental health, too. He’s choosing to move slowly instead of rushing the commitment like I thought I wanted.

No one’s ever cared about me like that before, at least not to this extent. I still wonder what it will all mean—if the collar will come with promises like monogamy and everything that could follow—but right now, I’m too happy and content to overthink it. One thing at a time.

I place my pants in a pile before Dane starts to put everything we folded back in the basket. When he’s done, he asks, “Would you like help putting them away?”

“It’s fine; I can do it later.”

He nods. “Alright, what next?”

“You don’t have to do anything else. You’ve already helped me cancel a dozen subscriptions I didn’t even know I was paying for, dusted, done the dishes, and organized my fridge.” I almost flush at the last one. I think he threw out something from the back that was at least two months old. It was embarrassing. “Were you a housekeeper in another life?”

He chuckles. “No, but my dad was very strict, and I did a lot of chores.”

“I can relate to that. Having a strict dad, I mean. Ours was very rule oriented, the opposite of how I am with Kas. Which, now that I think about it, is probably why I’m the way I am with her.”

Dane nods and leans back on the couch. “Makes sense.” He studies me as if he’s figured something else out about me before he continues. “I was my parents’ only child. My mother didn’t like to do housework, nor did she like to parent me, as I mentioned. She took on the friend role.

“My father was the opposite. He always treated me like I was an adult, so as soon as I was old enough to work, I was just an extra set of hands, a little soldier. I had lists each day he’d make me get done, even when I was in school or working long hours with him in the summers after I started learning the logging trade.”

I scrunch up my nose, feeling sad for the young Dane I never knew. That’s no way to grow up, but in many ways, it explains why he is the way he is. He’s regimented and likes routines, which probably make him feel safe. Just as I’m learning that having boundaries and rules makes me feel safe. Given this, it’s interesting that I’ve slipped up so much with Kas.

“Did you ever get to play and be a kid?” I ask.

Dane pauses, his hands resting on his knees, gripping the fabric. “Not often, just at school during recess. Eventually, my old man did teach me how to speed climb the poles, and I liked that. He liked it, too, because I could compete and earn extra money when I won. He loved when he’d win in the adult competition and I’d win in the kids’.”

“I’m surprised you still enjoy it.”

“Did you watch me compete at the games that day?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I was planning on it, but when I ran into you, I was rushing out to come home and take advantage of the empty house.”