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What I learned last night when Addison fled the house is that sometimes it won’t be me that does the calming. And I need to be okay with that. I need to be okay with the fact that sometimes my kid, my girl, my friends... sometimes they won’t need me. Even if I want them to.
We eat breakfast with our friends and it feels... normal. There’s a comfort to being surrounded by people who know both Addison and I and who have mostly met Matty.
When breakfast is over, Kenzie and Austin kick Addison and me out to go and talk. They tell us that Matty will be fine, and without hesitation I trust that he will be. The car ride back to the house is quiet, not a comfortable quiet either, it’s charged with anxiety and laced with fear. Adi refuses to make eye contact, in fact, she stares out the window the whole time.
Knowing my girl is afraid of me turns my insides to mush. I’ll do whatever I have to do to ensure she never feels this way again.
Back at the house, I sit on the couch, opening my arms to her. She doesn’t decline, but she doesn’t jump into my waiting arms either. She lies down and rests her head on my lap.
Stroking the side of her face, her hair, and telling her I’m sorry three thousand times doesn’t feel like enough, and when she falls asleep I watch the rise and fall of her chest. Her rhythmic breathing must send me off to sleep too, when I wake up it’s after lunch time, and she hasn’t moved but she’s awake.
“I’m sorry, kitten.”
She nods under my fingertips. “I know. I think we just went too far too fast.”
She’s not wrong. I should have known better, did know better, but I got caught so up in the new dynamic and being a father that I lost sight of my foundation.
“My dad left when I was a little boy.” Dunno why I’m sharing this with her, maybe being vulnerable, showing her my damaged underbelly will help mend our relationship somehow.
“Did you spend forever blaming yourself?” She’s astute, and on the nose with her assessment of the situation.
There’s a lump in my throat that doesn’t shift when I try to clear it. “I did. Mom never did, at least not out loud. But I convinced myself that it was my fault, that she was alone because of me.”
“Have you seen him since he left?”
“No. When I got older she told me he was an alcoholic, abusive, mostly emotional abuse, yelling at her, at me. We don’t even know if he’s still alive.”
“Oh, Thor.” The sadness in her voice burrows into my chest.
“I’m not telling you for sympathy. I don’t... Opening up about my childhood isn’t something I do very often.”
“You’re trying to let me in.” She’s smiling now, and the warmth of her smile gives me the strength to keep going.
“From the moment Dad left, I did everything in my power not to disappoint Mom. Top of my class, good job, I was the perfect student, the perfect son, and excelled at everything I turned my hand to.”
She stays quiet, but strokes my leg.
“Except relationships.” Swallowing hard, I blink back tears. I can generally talk to anyone about anything, but bringing up my failures... that feels like a wall that can’t be scaled.
“It takes two, Thor.”
“There’s a reason I’m a one and done kind of guy, Addison. I hurt her, my ex.”
“The long-term submissive?”
“Yeah.”
A heavy silence hangs between us, she’s waiting for more information, and I’m not sure I have it in me to share with her. Not least because she probably has one foot out the door of our relationship.
“Austin said there are as many red flag submissives as there are dominants.”
Austin is a wise man.
“He’s right, there are. Some submissives are so broken they’d do anything to please their dominant. It's why our roles are so important, it’s why paying such close attention, learning our partners so intimately is so important.”
“She lied to you about being okay.”
“It was still my responsibility to protect her.”
