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It’s a little easier after that. We fall into step, shoulders almost brushing. He asks if I know if I’m staying yet. I tell him yes, for quite a while probably. I have no fucking idea what I’ll do with the rest of my life, and I’m not leaving until I figure it out. I ask him if he’s decided. He tells me he’s out of here the first chance he gets, that he can’t wait to hug his sisters, that he’s going to tell his mom he’s so fucking sorry for always complaining about having to clean his room.
I laugh softly as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “Oh man. I will never, ever complain about cleaning ever again. Or folding laundry. I used to fucking despise folding laundry. It drove my mom nuts. I’d just drape the clean clothes over the back of the chair in my room until it got so high it would topple over. Now? Spending hours doing nothing but folding laundry sounds like a fucking dream.”
“When I was waiting to be sold at my auction, I—I’d think about gardening. Isn’t that weird? I’ve never fucking gardened in my life. My mom doesn’t even garden. But I’d close my eyes and picture flowers I didn’t even know the name for and organize them in my head, how they’d look together, maybe some nerdy ass lawn gnomes or something. I know it’s weird, but it’s where my head went.”
“I don’t know. Being locked away, possibly never to be free again… it makes sense that you thought of outside. There’s something free about flowers, if you think about it. I don’t think you ever got the chance to see, but outside the Roarke compound there was a gorgeous garden. It was rare I got to go in it, and I was never brought out there for anything nice, but when I did… I loved those flowers.”
I can picture that garden so perfectly. I can feel the soil beneath my knees. I can smell the subtle aroma of the flowers. I can see the twinkle lights of the last garden party sparkling in the air. I can taste the oddly comforting clean musk of a cock on my tongue.
That party was an easy night, surprisingly. Carter took my place as the main show, allowing me to just be like all the other slaves instead of Master Roarke’s best. I hated it, hated not getting the chance to make the man I love—loved?—proud, but the man who used me was clean and kind and even fed me bits of his food. Plus, after Carter broke down and had to leave, I was promoted to Master Roarke’s side and he gave me to the most important guest of the evening while they held a secret meeting. So, yeah. It was a good night.
But was it really?
Fuck, I really hate that I’m being forced to reevaluate everything now that it was all a fucking lie.
“There’s a garden here,” Gabe says, pulling me out of my own thoughts. “Have you seen…”
If Gabe keeps talking, I don’t hear the words.
We just turned the corner to come face-to-face with Master Roarke.
I’m on my knees before I can stop myself, a gasped apology starting from my lips. Remember your posture, eyes down, back straight. “Master Roarke—”
I cut myself off. Wrong, wrong, this is wrong.
Not Master.
Not mine.
Never was.
“Nolan,” he says, his voice heavy and rough. Nothing like the refined voice of Master Roarke. This is the voice of Travis. The voice of Travis while he’s upset, uncertain, faced with a man whose trauma he helped build. “Nolan. You—you can get up.”
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
Of course I can get up.
I’m free.
He must think I’m so fucked up.
He must be so annoyed.
This was bad.
I was bad, bad, bad.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, realizing I’ve rocked back on my ass and drawn my knees to my chest at some point. I hug them close. Tight enough to make my muscles ache. “I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says, his voice softer now. He starts to reach for me.
Don’t let him touch you! a voice screams in my head. You’ll never recover from it!
“Don’t touch me!” I shout just before he can make contact, scrambling backward at the same time so he can’t reach me if he doesn’t listen. My head slams against the wall. Little dots float in my vision, my ears ringing. Panic compresses down on me. How dare I tell him no?
But Maison said I was safe here.
This man touching me as any version of himself will never be safe.
