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Chapter Twenty-Eight
The satisfied ache of a scene well-played pulsed through Plum’s body as she unlocked the door to go up to her apartment. Trudging up the stairs brought on a painful echo of the abuse her backside had endured this evening, and she hissed through her teeth as she slid her key into the lock of her home.
Once she was inside, she flopped onto the couch, purposefully making the weals and cane-marks on her ass hurt like a mother. She was definitely not using physical pain to distract herself from emotional pain. Nope, that was not a thing she would absolutely and totally do.Fuck.
Her eyes watered and it wasn’t from the beatings she’d taken over the past few hours. Savage had been fun, and just like she’d left it—she’d seen familiar faces, played with familiar partners, had her backside thoroughly spanked and paddled by a number of people and a multitude of implements.
It had been a very good night, and all of her partners had delivered satisfactory aftercare. They’d check in with her tomorrow too because she didn’t play with anyone who didn’t make a habit of following up.
And yet there had been something missing.
Someone.
It had been two weeks since she’d, what, broken up with Gideon? How did one break up with a person they hadn’t officially been dating? Except who was she kidding? They’d been together and now they weren’t and it was her fault.
Plum thought she heard a noise from downstairs in the café but that didn’t make any sense. They’d locked up hours ago, the lights had all been off, and the door had been locked when she tugged on it out of habit as she passed by on her way to the entrance to upstairs.
Maybe she was hallucinating things in her misery. That was great. Not only was she missing Gideon like crazy but she was hearing things. Perfect. She sat still and silent for a few moments, straining to hear any other sounds but there was nothing. Maybe it had been a raccoon in the back alley trash or something. They were cute little fuckers but those trash pandas sure could make a mess. Whatever, she’d deal with it tomorrow.
For now, she’d get in the shower and try not to cry under the streaming hot water, and then maybe get herself off once she was in bed. It wasn’t that there wasn’t anyone to fuck at the club—she totally could’ve. It was more that she hadn’t wanted to. It wouldn’t have been cheating and she most likely would’ve gotten a decent orgasm out of it, but…she wasn’t ready yet. Didn’t want anyone inside her except Gideon.
Who was lodged deeply inside her, all the time. She felt him there, guiding her decisions, playfully scolding her when she swore, loving and supporting her when she was sad which was pretty much all the time since they’d split.
She knew she was dragging around like a sad sack and she also knew she couldn’t help it. This was about as good as it got right now. It would get better.
Except he’d come in every Thursday morning and she’d have her idiotic decision thrown in her face again when he ordered his fucking bagel with his goddamn capers and his flat white that she’d have to put in the stupid mug she’d gotten him. And then she’d be back to square one on the This Break-up Fucking Sucks boardgame. Ugh.
She pushed off the couch, the muscles in her thighs screaming after having held uncomfortable positions tonight, and dragged herself off to the shower. She’d do a quick rinse and then go to sleep. She didn’t even want to masturbate, it would just be depressing. It didn’t help that she could hear Gideon’s chastising voice in her head, telling her she needed to get more sleep. The smooth whisky sound burned in her brain like straight liquor down her throat and she wrenched the shower on, making the water as hot as she could possibly bear.
* * *
He’d heard the sirens because of course he had—the firehouse was only a couple of blocks away and it was a blessing and a curse of living in this neighborhood. Everything was at hand, but that also meant…everything was at hand. Even in the wee hours.
What Gideon had failed to notice at first as he worked over his sermon for Sunday was that the sirens didn’t trail off into the distance as they usually did. No, they stopped before they had a chance to entirely fade from hearing, which meant they were stopping nearby and…
Couldn’t be. If it were, Plum would’ve called him. Texted him. Something. He knew things were awkward between them, but surely if there had been an emergency, she would’ve reached out. He was right there, and he’d made it clear that if she needed anything he would come running. So it couldn’t be the building that housed Caffeinatrix and Plum’s crowded, colorful apartment.
But if it were…?
Even if it weren’t, perhaps he could be of assistance. He had, after all, had a bunch of first aid training and he might be able to be of some use. He could at least staunch wounds if there were wounds to be staunched and help move people to safety. Or offer comfort to those in need of comforting.
He put his pen down, shoved his feet into shoes and headed out into the dark, seeing the blaze almost immediately from his doorstep. His heart seized as he realized if it wasn’t Plum’s café, then very close by.
It was cold, but Gideon didn’t feel the chill as he sprinted through the empty church parking lot, across the street, and down the block to where firefighters and EMTs and police were gathering, red and blue lights flashing in front of a serious blaze.
Fire was consuming the brick building he knew so well. Plum’s life’s work and home were going up in flames, and the loss of it hit him square in the chest. She was going to be devastated.
If she wasn’t dead.
He prayed silently as he looked around, trying to determine who would be best to talk to. Finding a small knot of people who looked like they were in charge, he ran up and shouted over the ruckus.
“Is she safe? There’s a woman who lives on the second floor. Did you find her? Plum. Plum Brolingtide. She owns the café, and her apartment is above it. Have you seen her? I—”
Gideon covered his head as the plate glass windows at the front of Caffeinatrix shattered.
The urge to run into the conflagration was so strong he had to hold himself back from dashing into the flames. Doing so would only make more trouble for the first responders. Best to give them information and let them do their jobs instead of having to rescue an idiot who had no business running into a burning building.
He was about to start shouting at them again when a small figure emerged from an alley two doors down, and he knew. Not sparing a second, he zigzagged around the people crowding the sidewalk and the road until he reached her.
