Page 177 of Piece Us Together

I laugh, just a little. “We have a therapist, yeah. Dr. Singh.”

“He doesn’t know about you yet,” Nolan says before looking at me with a furrowed brow. “Unless you told him?”

“I’ve been avoiding that man like the fucking plague. So, no.”

Now they’re both frowning at me.Fuck.

“No more avoiding,” Hunter says firmly. “You need to talk to him. Or at least talk tosomeone. He can help you sort things out. Help you cope.”

“I can do that with you guys.”

“No, Maison. I’m not a therapist.”

“You see everything, just like he does. See right fucking through me.”

He smiles sardonically. “You’re right. I’m good at watching and analyzing. Good at picking up cues. It’s a skill many doms would kill to have. What I can’t do, though? I can’t even begin to know the ways to help you. Hell, I don’t even know if the hand on your throat thing is ethical or not. After what you’ve been through…”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t take that away.” I feel cold again. Hollowed. I grab at his shirt. It’s a new one. I ripped the other. Nolan kisses my shoulder, whispering that it’s okay. “Please. It makes the world go quiet. It’s one of the only things that makes it all go quiet.”

“Hey, shh. It’s okay. I won’t stop. But there might be other things I need to do, or a different way to do it, or you might need to at least talk it out. I don’t know. I have absolutely no idea. And that terrifies me, sweetheart. I can’t be a good dom without knowing.”

I can’t help but feel pouty, which is probably why I sound like a petulant child as I grumble, “Then you should see him.”

“Maybe I will. Hell, maybe the three of us will. Before then, you need to go on your own.”

“But Ihateit.”

“I know.” He pushes himself up on his elbow, slightly hovering over me. His eyes are golden brown today, just a few flecks of green showing. “Will you do it anyway?”

The words are an echo. It nearly steals my breath to think of how far we’ve come. To think of all the things I’ve done for him anyway. For all the things I’ll do in the future.

“Do I get a reward?” I ask, feeling better about myself if I don’t just give in. I might not be able to be an asshole and say he isn’t my dom anymore, but I don’t have to make it easy for him. At least not when it comes to fucking Dr. Singh’s bullshit.

Hunter chuckles. “Sure, kitten. If you go talk to Dr. Singh and come back to me with a plan—you don’t have to share the plan, just tell me you’ve made one with him—then I’ll give you a very nice reward.”

I like the sound of that, but…

“What do you mean, a plan?”

“A plan for you to move forward, I suppose. You have so much to process. Things I think you’ve spent a long time avoiding facing. Maybe he’ll want you to choose something specific to work on or maybe it’ll be more open-ended. I don’t know. Whatever he thinks is best.” He takes a breath, his eyes darting away from me. I lock up inside. Hunter almost never looks away. Whatever he’s going to say, I’m pretty fucking sure I’m going to hate it. “I’d like you to talk to him about kink and its place in your healing. Both of you likely need that.”

“I have,” Nolan says. I know he’s not being a brat, not being the kid who did his homework when no one else did, but for just a second I feel a flash of anger, of annoyance. Then it fades, replaced by relief that at least one of us is getting better. “I cantalk to him more, though. I haven’t talked to him since we added you into things either. It’d probably be good to do that.”

I give him a half-playful glare. “Traitor.”

“Yup.” He sticks his tongue out at me. Any lingering upset is gone, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of how much I love him. “So sorry for wanting what’s best for you.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him about us and about—about kink. We’ll talk.”

For some reason, Hunter still isn’t looking at me though. As if that’s not what he wanted. As if there’s something worse he wants to ask of me.

Oh no.

“Maison, I’d also like—” He stops himself though, taking a deep breath. Then he looks at me. It’s rare for him to show so much emotion in his expressions, in his eyes. He’s so good at keeping it all in check. Not right now, though. Right now I can read him loud and clear. His voice trembles as he continues. It makes me fuckingache. “I’d like you to talk to him about the self-harm. And the drinking.”

I look away from him, wishing I could sit up without making my shoulder set fire with pain. My jaw ticks as I try to get my anger out through clenched teeth and sharp breaths through my nose.

“Self-harm is a little fucking dramatic,” I say when I can trust myself to speak with a clear voice.

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