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“Not by strangers, no. When my mom remarried, my dad adopted me so I’d have the same last name. Well, he adopted me for lots of reasons, foremost because he loved my mom, which made him a hero in my eyes.” Why was I telling her my life history? I shoved more sushi in my mouth and pointed at her with my chopsticks. “So, does your dad work in the same field as you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes.”
“You compete with each other?”
Her brows drew together and she made another face I couldn’t interpret. “My dad is half crazy,” she finally said. “He started losing it the year my mother died. Like, fifteen years ago, now. He’s gone pretty crazy in the meantime.”
“I’m sorry. About your mother, and your dad.”
She waved a hand. “I mean, he’s intelligent and he keeps up with my career, but what he really lives for is…” Her hands waved again, helpless angst. “He wants to find a way to go back in time, because he misses my mother. Isn’t that crazy? She drank too much at a holiday party and tried to drive home, so he wants to travel back and tell her not to drink, or change his own mind and go with her to the party. He hated parties, so that night…”
“Oh, man.” I felt bad for the guy, dealing with that guilt. “Sorry to hear you lost your mom that way. That’s really tough. Sudden.”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her forehead. “My dad really loved her. Really,reallyloved her, to the point where I remember this…” She held her arms wide. “This, like, billowing love between them. Then she died, and my dad got weird about reversing time, and getting her back somehow. Like, he really thinks it could be possible. He’s always studied physics related to time, and he pressed me to study time, although I sidestepped into the field of gravitational waves.” She stared at the table, no longer eating.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “That must be…weird.”Jackass. It’s not weird, it’s heartbreaking.I could read all the feelings on her face. She’d lost her mom, and she still had a dad, but he was caught up in some bizarro quest to reverse time.
“It’s weird that he doesn’t want to behere, now,” she said, frowning. “All he thinks about is my mother and the past. That’s why I shy away from relationships. Watching what love did to him…” She bit a nail, looking off into the distance. “I mean, I loved my mother. I’ll always love her, but he loved her to the point of mental illness, to the point where…”Where there’s no room for me.She didn’t say it out loud, but I could read it in her hurt expression.
“Are you the only child?” I asked.
“Yes, and I was adopted, which is why I was curious when you said you were too. But I was adopted because my mother couldn’t have kids. I guess my father did it for her, because he’d always do whatever she wanted, whatever would make her happy.” She shrugged. “Except go to that party that night. He’s not evil or anything, just more into science than being a dad. I don’t like to be around him, which makes me feel like a bad daughter.” Both of us were talking over the noise in the crowded, echoing sushi bar. She saidbad daughterreally loud, then fell silent, putting her hand over her mouth. “Everyone heard me.”
“Who fucking cares?” I held up a piece of sushi and aimed it at her mouth to get her eating again. Ah, those lips. No, damn, we were having a serious conversation. “You’re not a bad daughter, he’s a shitty father.”
“Not shitty,” she protested.
“Okay. Not shitty.”
“And I’m interested in time travel, too. I’m interested in anything that’s huge and groundbreaking, and unknown.”
She was such an unrepentant nerd sometimes. I’d never known anyone like her, quirky and smart and thoughtful. Maybe that’s why I opened up about stuff I’d never told any woman before. “Want to hear about my father?” Even as I debated how much to say, I spilled out everything. “My real father was a dope dealer, a criminal and an abuser. He was an angry, horrible person. My earliest memories are of him hitting my mother, kicking her, punching her, making her cry. I thought it was…” My jaw ticked as I ground my teeth. “I thought it was normal. That all men did that to all women.”
“Oh, no,” she said softly. “That’s horrible.” She thought a moment, and covered her mouth. “Wait. Is that why you turned into a sadist?”
“No. God, no. Honestly, the two things aren’t related, and I’ve never told any of my other subs about this. I didn’t want to explain myself, you know?” I gave a short huff of a laugh. “Explain why I’m into hurting women when I can’t stand people who hurt women.”
“You shouldn’t have to explain.”
“I mean, I would, but I don’t know how.”
“It’s definitely different,” she said. “The women you hurtwantto be hurt. You need it to be consensual, even if you pretend there aren’t any safe words.”
“Yeah.” I thought a moment. “The safe words are in their faces. In their body language. I’m careful with my partners, you know?” I gave another short laugh, covering the pain. “What my father did to my mother—it had nothing to do with caring. It was all about hatred and defilement.”
I clamped my lips shut, swallowed hard. Collected myself. Ella watched me, wide blue eyes behind her brainy glasses.
“I never hate anyone I play with,” I said. “I don’t hate, period.” I wanted to say more, about how hate poisoned lives, how hate resulted in broken bones and black eyes, how hate made life into hell, but I couldn’t. I wanted to explain how hate had made me feel helpless and useless, how I’d never been able to protect my mother or myself.
She took my hand in a warm, soothing grip. “I’m sorry, Devin. How long did you have to live like that?”
I let out a breath. “Until my adoptive father befriended my mother. She worked at a small airport he flew out of, serving food in the cafeteria. He noticed the bruises on her arms, and the way she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but he drew her out over time, gained her trust and learned her story. By the time he convinced her to leave my father, the two of them had grown close.” I paused, remembering how he’d changed my mother with his love and understanding. How he’d given her the courage to change. “My first father was the worst of the worst. My second father is the best of the best. Maybe your father falls somewhere in the middle,” I said. “Not a great father, but at least he’s capable of love.”
She was still studying me with a sympathetic gaze. “It’s hard to believe you came from a man like that.”
I wished now I hadn’t told her. I’d buried my past deep and built a new life for myself, a life that started when I was six years old. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for me,” I said. “Everything’s great now. I learned that it’s not normal to hurt women, unless it’s the kind of hurt they enjoy. Speaking of which…”
I needed to stop thinking about my past and start thinking about sex. The noise swelled in the room again, a raucous round of laughter from one of the corners. I leaned close to Ella, taking in her fresh, vanilla-tinged scent. “I want to hurt you, little horndog. And fuck you, although I don’t think you deserve to have it feel very good.”
