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I froze.
“Look, I promise I won’t say a word.”
I opened my mouth to sack him or threaten him because being defensive was how I’d dealt with things since my diagnosis three years ago, but maybe Addi was right; it was time to step out of my comfort zone.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. No one else knows about my autism.”
“No one?” Marshall’s eyes widened in surprise. “No one else in the world knows that you’re autistic and you manage that world-famous band as well as you do?”
Heat flushed my cheeks as I shrugged. “I didn’t want people to know and feel sorry for me. I cope. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Well, I’m pretty impressed and I don’t impress easily. Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel.”
Pride rushed my body and I couldn’t help admit how much I liked his praise, but Marshall wasn’t into men, so I pushed it down and let him lead me from the room to go face the music.
Marshall
IthoughtI’dbeenloud coming into the room, but obviously not loud enough. Dawson was deep in a conversation with a woman who, I realized as I listened, was the woman who ran the record label.
When he admitted to being in love with Fox and Lea, I knew I’d overstepped.
When he talked about his autism diagnosis, I realized my job was probably fucked.
And when he talked about having been with Fox in the past, I started formulating a Plan B because there was no way he’d let me stay now.
But as we walked from the greenroom to the waiting car, my hand on his elbow, guiding him through the crew still working, I felt his body soften from my touch.
As we stepped into the car and I climbed in next to him, he let out a long sigh, his head falling back against the leather seat. He didn’t react angrily or fire me again; instead, he opened up.
“My autism makes me appear weird. Standoffish, emotionless, I struggle to read other people’s emotions, which is why I need them to tell me what they’re thinking. Just like I did with you when I asked you to tell me what you wanted. If there are things that are unclear, then I spiral and I struggle or I run. I can’t stand soft touches. I hate clothes that are loose and irritate my skin. I can’t snuggle after sex or share a bed all night. I need to be in control all the time.”
“That makes sense. But…”
Dawson lifted his head, his emerald green eyes burning into mine. “But what?”
“You’re in control all the time. The band… your job. It’s a lot. Maybe you need to let go of that control and let people who care about and know what you need give you something different.”
He let out an empty laugh. “But no one knows what I need and I don’t think anyone really cares about me.”
God, this man is killing me.
“That is bullshit. Sorry, but it is. Fox was so worried about you that he sent me back here for you. I’ve seen the way they both look at you, the way you all touch like you can read each other’s minds.”
“That’s just sex.”
“It’s more than that. I’ve just heard you admit it.”
His brows furrowed, and I saw the hint of a million emotions play across his face. Knowing I was probably going to regret it, I pressed my hand to his thigh, squeezing hard. “Now I know, I can help. I’ve got your back, Dawson.” We stared at each other for a moment before I continued. “Give me some of the control. Let me take the pressure off. Let me give you a space where you can let go and not worry about the consequences.”
“You’re not into men.”
I paused. The truth on the tip of my tongue, but as ever, the memories of the past were too hard to voice. “No, but I’m into sex and I kind of get off on taking control.”
“While watching.”
“Not exclusively.”
The car pulled to a stop, and the driver opened the back door, letting me slip out before Dawson. As he passed, I leaned in and whispered, “Trust me.”
