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“No. I want you to contact Moghul or Kat though. I gave them your email. Talk to them. I think perhaps you do need someone. Just not me. It’s over, Jodie.” He raised his hand toward me, as if he’d been struck by the urge to touch.
“Over? No. No, please.” If I could communicate the depth of my need with my eyes I would have. I should show him with some other gesture. I slipped to my knees in the grass and dirt. “Sir. Please. Let us try again.”
“No,” he grated out, and for once I could see the depth of the pain on his face.
Oh God. It hurt me to see that and know. He was hurting, more than me.
How selfish had I been? I’d organized this month-long experiment without a thought as to how it might affect him. He seemed so strong, yet I’d seen torture in his expression. If he’d let me I would have gone to him and hugged him, kissed him, drawn his arms around me so we were together again in the way a man and woman should be. Whole.
Something twisted inside me. Awareness blossomed.
That was the moment my heart truly let him in. I saw him as a man, not just my Master, because he needed me. I wanted more than just to kneel for him. I wanted to help him when he was sad, to be there for him, to make the pain go away.
I raised my head. “Please.” This time, my heart and my soul bled out into my eyes.
But he stood and stepped back like I had some disease that might infect him. “Go home, Jodie.”
And he walked away.
Dismayed, I watched him go.
What could I do? Nothing. It had been useless. I’d achieved nothing much at all except for understanding. I understood how hopeless this was. How implacable his stance. I’d not convince him in a century of begging.
Every part of my body seemed disassociated from the real me.
Oh, and I’d achieved one other paltry thing. I’d found out I loved him.
I picked myself up, dusted off my knees, sat in a crumpled heap on the bench, and thought a long time. Only one or two tears slipped down my face. Then I went home. I had no idea what I should do. None, at all.
