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What the fuck was I thinking?
Jake is the first good thing to happen to me in so fucking long, and now I’m going to ruin it by - what? Getting turned on, trying to act on it, only to find out I can’t handle it and panic? Yeah. That’s a surefire way to lose one of the only two men I trust in this entire fucking world. Not going to happen.
When I reach the wall, I come up for air just long enough to refill my lungs before I start pushing off again for a new lap. Jake stops me by snagging my arm and pulling me to him, our bodies colliding. My chest heaves against his as we catch our breath together. I blink rapidly to clear my eyes, losing my breath all over again when I find myself looking right at Jake’s wet, worried face.
God, I want to kiss him.
I bet it’d be good. Amazing, even. I bet he’d taste like chlorine. I bet each pass of his lips would be soft, each swipe of his tongue teasing. I bet he’d cradle my face with those big, strong hands and-
“Slow down, Case,” he says with an uneasy laugh. It takes me a moment to realize he’s referring to swimming, not my thoughts. “Your body is recovering. For fuck’s sake, you just kicked my ass. Please don’t push yourself that hard.”
“I’m fine. I’m - I’m great.”
I mean, I’m the opposite of that mostly, but when it comes to swimming in this pool I’m fucking excellent.
“You’re great compared to what you were when I first met you, but you’re far from great, Case. Hell, you’re far from fine.” He frowns. “You’re seeing the doctor tomorrow, right?”
My stomach roils, bile burning my throat. The idea of kissing is long forgotten. I barely manage to step back, my legs suddenly weak. “D-doctor?”
“Dr. Singh was supposed to mention it at therapy. You’re all scheduled for doctor appointments starting tomorrow morning. He had to see everyone who needed immediate attention first, and then the two survivors that wanted to leave today. But tomorrow morning you’re scheduled for-”
“I’m not going to a doctor,” I tell him.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. He’s here, in the house. He’ll be-”
“No.”
Jake shakes his head, his eyebrows pulled tight in confusion. “It’s important, Casey. All of you-”
“No,” I repeat.
“After what you’ve been through-”
“I know what I’ve been through,” I growl. “I don’t need you to tell me, Jake.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. I’m so full of anger and fear that I don’t even find the way his muscles clench with the movement attractive. In fact, I kind of want to punch him. Or run from him. Or both. “If you know, then you know you need to see a doctor.”
I shudder. Even that word feels dangerous. Doctor.
I’ve seen three of those over the course of my time as a slave.
The first was while I was in the cage awaiting my auction. I’d been so fucking relieved when a guard had grunted that I was going to see the doctor, ready to beg the man to help me feel better. I’d had a cough at the time that would wrack my whole body and ever since the guards brought me to the place they called the playroom I couldn’t get my hole to stop leaking blood. But all the doctor did was have the guards strap me down, drew my blood, injected me with things he refused to explain to me, and then conducted a series of ‘tests’ on me to assess my strength and stamina. Tests that I’m positive the devil himself would have fucking approved of.
The second was a few days into my stay with DuGray. I’d been terrified, shaking like a fucking leaf when DuGray dragged me by my metal collar to see his doctor friend. I hadn’t been sure what I was more afraid of - that the doctor friend was there as a friend or there as a doctor. Turns out, he’d been there as both. He’d checked me over by using every possible tool and invasive measure possible, humiliating me with an entire fist up my ass as he talked to DuGray like I was a dog brought into the vet. And why wouldn’t he have? I had been muzzled, collared, and in fucking rubber puppy mitts. I’d been sleeping in a dog cage every night and the only food or water I’d been given were in dog bowls. Once he’d declared the pup healthy, he’d rewarded himself with a brutal fuck that I could do nothing but take since I was once again strapped down.
The third time was possibly the worst of all. When DuGray offered no explanations, just scooping me off the dungeon floor where I was positive I’d been left to die. No one would talk to me or look at me or acknowledge me at all. Things were so blurry and dizzying. My body was begging for death. And then they shoved that ventilator down my throat and took the one and only thing that - until that point - had still belonged to me: my breath.
I refuse to have a fourth visit with a doctor, no matter how badly I might need one. Not. Fucking. Happening.
“I’m not going to a doctor,” I repeat. “I’ll fucking leave the safehouse first.”
Jake gapes at me, clearly beside himself. He rubs at the back of his head and looks down at the water like it might hold the answers. It doesn’t. There’s nothing he can say or do that will make me see this doctor. Nothing.
“I - you really-” he stops, shaking his head and releasing a deep breath. Then he lifts his chin and looks at me again, his expression impossible to read. “Okay. I respect that.”
“R-really?”
“Yes.” He gives me a tight smile. “Of course. It’s your body.”
