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I fucked up.
It didn’t take more than that for him to understand Noa had told me.
“We’re gonna work this out.” He walked over to me and rested his cane against the bed. “How much did you tell him, freckles?”
“About Cameron? All of it, I think.” Noa shrugged.
KC nodded with a dip of his chin and began buttoning my shirt. “He needs a moment to regroup, that’s all. He’ll come home tonight or tomorrow. And in the meantime, you’ll think of one hell of a bold gesture to make him believe you’re gonna be his Master for a long-ass time.”
A bold gesture.
Noa snuck forward before the top buttons had been buttoned, and he pinched one of the electrodes that hadn’t been removed last night. He fucking yanked it.
“Boy,” I grunted. RIP, chest hair. I rubbed the spot. That hurt, dammit.
“Oops,” he choked out on a giggle.
KC shook his head in amusement and retrieved his phone. Scratch that, it was mine. “I brought this. Cam messaged before he went to bed last night and said he’d left you a text.”
Oh.
I drew a breath and accepted the phone, unsure I had the balls to read it.
Not that it stopped me from opening our message conversation faster than I could tell my boss I was quitting.
Nervousness tightened my gut.
I feel super selfish for leaving. I miss you, and I love you. I fucking live for you! And maybe that’s why I had to go. I can’t watch you kill yourself. So as soon as I knew you weren’t dying (at the moment), all I could think of was running away.
I don’t know what would hurt the most, every step I could’ve taken toward you, or every step I ended up taking away from you.
Please get better, Lucian. I beg you. Please choose us. We’ve chosen you. I love you. Master Greer is taking my phone now, so I don’t know when I can/will text again, but I’ll be home soon.
Emotions welled up so fast that I had no time to blink back the tears before they rolled down my cheeks. I coughed and hurriedly wiped them away, to no avail. Oh fuck, right in the gut. What had I done?
Please choose us.
I had to cough again, and I swallowed repeatedly, instantly worrying Noa. KC calmly took my phone and read the message, then let out a long breath and hugged me to him.
I can’t watch you kill yourself.
“What did he write?!” Noa demanded.
I don’t know what would hurt the most…
* * *
This was wrong. So fucking wrong. I was going in the wrong direction. I understood I needed to rest. We’d stopped on the way home to pick up my prescription of anxiety meds that I’d ignored for two weeks. Or three. I didn’t recall exactly when my doctor had offered them to me, just that I’d scoffed at the notion.
But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t go home and sleep yet.
I could only think of one bold gesture that was good enough, and it was the most obvious one. I was done. I’d finally reached my limit. I didn’t care about my goddamn clients anymore, nor did I care what my superiors would say. It wasn’t as if I was aiming to become partner anymore. I’d lost that desire years ago, and yet I’d continued working as if I had nothing else to live for.
“Stay in the car,” I said abruptly.
KC killed the engine and furrowed his brow.
I scratched my forehead and glanced at my SUV in the carport. We could take that instead—actually, no. KC could drive.
