Page 7 of Piece Us Together
“Why’d you do it?”
He looks at me again, his lips curled into a dismissive smile. “I just got overwhelmed.”
“By what?”
“Everything,” he admits with a sad laugh. He pulls me into his arms again, settling back until we’re curled up on our sides with his head on his pillow and my head between his bicep and chest. He presses a kiss against my hair before sighing happily. “I should have just stayed home with you. You make everything so much better, you know that?”
The words make me smile like an idiot, even with my worry still lurking beneath the surface. I know I should push him on what exactly made him upset, but maybe now isn’t the best time. Maybe it can wait and I can just let myself enjoy this for a while.
He apparently doesn’t think the same. “I did something last night, Nol. Something we should talk about.”
My insides flood with ice, freezing every muscle. “Oh?”
“I met with someone. A friend of Travis—and Carter, I guess. Hunter.”
Hunter.
I know about Hunter.
Carter told me about Hunter—the dom who Carter tried to be with when he was taking a break from Travis. The dom who is now helping Travis learn the ropes.
The dom who apparently met with my boyfriend last night.
I sit up, wanting to look at Maison as he explains this to me. I realize instantly that it’s a mistake. There’s so much fear in his eyes that I can feel it reflecting in my own chest, threatening to swallow me whole. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
“I sought him out, for help.”
“You sought him out,” I echo, feeling stupid but unable to help it. “You sought out Hunter—the man you nearly shot. The man who did…thingswith Carter. A—adom. You sought him out.”
“Yes.”
“Last night.”
“Yes.”
I look down at his bandaged hand. “Before or after you punched the building?”
His fingers twitch. “Before.”
“Is hewhyyou punched the building?”
He releases a slow breath. “I went to him for help. For help with…us. I wanted him to teach me how to—”
I look at his face when he doesn’t continue. His gaze is off to the side, his cheeks flushed in the low morning light.
“How to be a dom?” I whisper, not sure if I’m asking with hope or dread.
“How towantto be a dom,” he mumbles, still not looking at me. “You said it doesn’t work with us because you can tell I don’t want it.”
My stomach sours so quickly I actually press a hand to my mouth in case I vomit. The feeling passes after a few seconds, but the immense guilt remains, a hot weight in my gut and tears in my eyes.
“I don’t want you to force yourself to like something for me, Maison.” I shake my head. “That’s brainwashing. That’s just—no.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” he suddenly yells, his eyes snapping back to me. They’re just as desperate as they were before, but now they’re angry too. I know him well enough to know the anger isn’t directed at me. Once again, the man I love is dousing himself in the inferno of his own self-hatred. “We promised to piece each other together and that submissive part of you is a huge fucking piece. You can lie all you want about it not being a big deal, but it is. And I’m not making you leave it behind.”
“So, what? Instead, you’ll just take pieces of yourself out?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes—”