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Gen held his phone in her hand, imagining the warmth of Noah's palm. "Are you worried he won't come back?"
Lyda spun her pen on the desk, a meditative movement. "Yes. But he chose, Gen."
"What if it's a one-time thing, and being alone with Elias, he reverts..."
"What could we do about that? Chain him here?"
"You do havea cage. And you could padlock the emergency exit part of it."
Lyda's lips twitched. "There's a difference between edge play and criminal behavior, rabbit."
"What would you call that out there, between them?"
"Not either one," Lyda said. "Not exactly."
Gen didn't agree with that, but she'd been playing the whole scene in her head, over and over, and a question was burning in her brain. One she shied away from, unsure she wanted it clarified. But she'd ask anyway. "Noah saw himself as taking a punishment for you. And you knew that, stood there and let it happen. Didn't you?"
The troubled look that entered Lyda's gaze eased some of her concerns. "Did you know what he was doing when he was letting Elias punch him?" Gen asked.
"Not exactly. It was how Noah looked at me, before each punch and right after, that made me think..." Lyda shook her head. "I can't explain it, Gen, and you probably won't like my answer. I figured out he was sending me a message. Though I wasn't sure what it was at first, I knew I'd rather Elias beat him to unconsciousness here, in my front yard, where we could get him to a hospital, than have him take him off to a hotel room and leave him to bleed to death."
"Criminal behavior, not edge play."
Lyda nodded. "When you endanger your sub's life, even if that's what he wants you to do, you're not being a responsible human being, let alone a responsible Dom."
"Would you have stopped him?"
"Yes. That last punch, when he broke his nose, was it." A grim smile touched Lyda's lips. "That was all I would tolerate."
Gen didn't know how she'd tolerated any of it. She wondered if she would ever fully understand the tangled dynamics that drove a relationship as intense as the one in which she'd found herself. She hoped she might have time to find out. Lots of time. But she'd never go through something like that again. If Noah came back... When he came back, she'd make that clear to both of them. She'd hit Noah on the head with a shovel and put him in the cage herself if needed.
"I wish you'd let me go to the hospital, if for no other reason than to be with him. I've seen a nose set before. It hurts like hell."
"He had to do this one on his own, from beginning to end. Let's go pull out those fresh cherries you brought home from the Whole Foods market. You and I are going to make a fresh cherry pie. Noah loves my cherry pie."
Gen looked over at her. Lyda was on the office couch, her papers spread out on one of the empty cushions, laptop on the coffee table. "Can I have something I've never asked for from you?"
Lyda gave her a steady look. "If you need it, it's yours."
Holding onto Noah's phone, Gen came to Lyda and slid onto the couch, drawing up her legs so her upper body leaned into Lyda's. Understanding, Lyda wrapped her arms around her, her body adjusting to cradle Gen across her lap, letting her put her head on her shoulder, her face against the side of Gen's.
"We can't lose him," Gen said.
"I know." Lyda held her tighter. "We'll be all right. We're strong women, Gen. We survive everything. Fire, flood, divorce, death. Even broken hearts."
*
By the time Gen heard a car bumping up the gravel of the residential access drive, they'd made the pie crust from scratch, baked the pie, and set it out on a rack to cool. Looking out the window, she saw one of Tyler's cars, a silver Jaguar sedan.
"I texted him," Lyda explained. "Asked him if he would meet Noah at the hospital. The idiot left his wallet on the dresser, which has his insurance card in it. I wasn't trusting Elias to take care of that. It wasn't his job to take care of it, anyway."
When Gen's expression changed, Lyda gestured. "Go and bring him to me."
Gen practically flew out the door and down the steps.
Noah was getting out of the car stiffly. The cut on his mouth was no longer bleeding, his nose was no longer crooked and he was carrying an ice pack for all of it. His shirt was still stained with dried blood. Gen didn't care. She wrapped herself around him, albeit gently, and cupped his skull in her hands as he bent down to her height, returned the favor of banding his arms around her as well.
"Don't you ever do that again," she scolded.
