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“I’m not going to push you into it, especially now that I’m seeing just how upset you are, but that response just now? And the way you feel about his voice and his hands? The feeling startled and restless? And everything else you’re dealing with? It’s all tied up in the trauma you keep shoving down. You can’t bury it, Maison. Whether you face it with me or face it with Jake, you need to face it. It’s only going to get worse.”
I run a hand down my face, trying to ignore the phantom taste of blood and bile on my tongue. It’s the taste of Jake’s rape. Every rape after that one was tainted with cum on top of that as men took turns in my mouth. Piss too, after a while. But the first rape—Jake’s rape—was just blood and bile.
I need to talk to him. He’s my best friend. My brother. It’s past due. If not for me, for him. I forced him, after all. I made him hurt me. I fucking raped him. That deserves an apology if nothing else. Jesus, I really do hurt everyone I love.
“Okay.” I wipe a hand over my mouth. Maybe I’ll stop for a swig or two of whiskey first, though. Just to get this taste to leave. “I’ll—I’m gonna talk to him. To Jake.”
Dr. Singh slowly nods. “Good. I think that’ll be good. My schedule is clear for the night. If you need anything, I’m here. Please take advantage of that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” He claps me on the shoulder, the touch much gentler than usual. “And then next session we can talk about you and Nolan.”
I choke on my spit. “W-what?”
He chuckles. “I live in this house, you know. I have eyes.”
Well, fuck.
When I see Casey is outside with the other survivors, I know it’s my best chance. I’m shaking and sweaty by the time I find Jake in his office. He’s not being the least bit productive, just standing at his window watching who I’m almost positive must be Casey.
Jake and I used to be close. Closer than even Travis and I were. Whereas Travis didn’t want to talk about the things he was forced to see and do, Jake needed that verbal release. I talked him through his first time touching a slave, talked him through every innocent death, every witnessed horror, every shred of humanity he felt like he lost. We became more than teammates over the years. We became family.
And then he raped me—or I… raped him, more accurately, begging him to fuck me when he wanted nothing more than to remain clean. He had never anally fucked a slave before. It was something he had clung to. A line he never wanted to have to cross. I stole that from him.
We haven’t talked much since that night. I’ve chalked it up to both of us being busy as hell—which we have been. Also, he’s got himself wrapped up in Casey pretty damn good, and I’ve got my own thing with Nolan that’s been brewing. Really, though, I’ve been avoiding him like the fucking plague and I’m pretty sure he’s been giving me a similar treatment. No more, though. Dr. Singh is right. For both of our sakes, it’s time to bring an end to this.
“Do you think you’d survive five minutes without your eyes on him?” I tease the man as I let myself enter his office.
He looks away from the window to give me a playful glare. “You stare at Nolan just as much.”
“Extremely accurate.” I settle beside him, letting my eyes find what he was looking at. Sure enough, there’s Casey all bundled up to enjoy the fresh air. Nolan is beside him. “But since the boys who hold our interest are currently together, I thought maybe I’d take advantage of the moment.”
“Oh?”
Here it goes. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Oh.” I can tell immediately that he understands what I’m about to say. Maybe Dr. Singh has been urging him to have this talk too. Or maybe it’s been haunting him like it has me. “Yeah. Of course. Okay.”
I focus on my breathing like Dr. Singh taught me, trying not to let my gaze linger on Jake’s hands. It’s always his hands.
I look back at Nolan again. Maybe when this is over, I can drag him inside and curl up with him in bed. Kiss his wind-chilled skin until he’s all warm and cozy.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
I nearly laugh once the words are out. I’ve practiced this conversation at least a dozen times. It was always far more eloquent than a fucking I’m sorry.
Before I can restart, Jake says in his usual firm, no-nonsense voice, “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”
But that’s not right. I’m not going to let him brush this off. I need this. We both do, I think. “I chose to be raped. With Carter never being shared with the men, I knew it would push them too far if Trav kept me from them too. But I didn’t consider what that would do to Travis or you. And when you were doing it, I knew you wanted to stop. You hesitated. And I begged you to keep going. That wasn’t fair of me.”
It takes him a moment to work through whatever the words force into his mind. When he speaks, his voice is rough and wavering. “I’m sorry too, Mais. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“For what? You saved my ass. Literally and figuratively.” I laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of him apologizing. Of two friends—practically brothers—having to swap apologies for something so impossibly fucked up. The laughter cracks and breaks until I’m swallowing a sob. I wrap my hand around the nape of his neck and squeeze until his eyes meet mine. I need him to really hear this part. I need him to believe it. He’s not the one who has a burden on his soul here. He’s not the rapist. I am. “You didn’t rape me, Jake. I refuse to see it in my head as that. Do you understand me? I get to choose and I say it wasn’t rape.”
He mirrors my movements, using his grip on the back of my neck to pull me forward until our foreheads are pressed together. I swear I can feel the relief pulsing from him to me. I can definitely hear it when he whispers, “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Jake. Not just for that night, but for all of it. For all the sacrifices and all the times you wanted to give up but didn’t. For agreeing to buy Carter even though it risked your life. For helping Trav take care of him. For helping save him.” I squeeze his nape again. “I owe a great deal to you.”
