Page 99 of Piece Us Together

“What else has he been struggling with?”

Nolan looks away, back at Maison. His voice wavers when he admits, “Everything.”

Maison makes another of those agonized sounds before whispering something I can’t quite make out. I glance at Nolan, his chin wobbling. “Almost done,” he says without looking away from the man.

“How do you know?”

“It’s usually over after he says sorry.”

That’s what Maison is saying, now that Nolan gave me something to listen for. He’s whispering he’s sorry, over and over, desperate and devastated.

Who is he saying sorry to? What’s happening to him in his mind? Isn’t there anything we can do to save him from it?

I see him in that alley outside the pub. I see him outside in my driveway. I see him on the back porch of his home.

I’m a bad person.

I hurt people.

I don’t want to fall in love with you.

“Do you think this is hurting him?” Nolan whispers. He’s looking at me again, his eyes wide with fear. “Us, I mean? This…arrangement?”

I try to find the right words to explain what I think without throwing Maison completely under the bus. It’s not my place to tell him the things Maison has said to me, but I can’t lie either.

I settle for a vague middle-ground. “I think he’s making it hurt him. I think it’s going to be up to him to make it stop.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He draws his knees back up, a tear falling down his cheek. “He’s very good at making himself hurt, Hunter.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, unfortunately.”

“Sometimes…” He stops, shaking his head.

I place a hand on his back and begin to rub comforting circles there. He presses into the touch, his eyes closing.

“Sometimes what, Nolan?”

“Sometimes I wish you could just tell him to stop. I wish he’d let you. I think he needs you, not like I do, but—but like I do.” He laughs, the sound shaky and self-conscious. “I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“It does, actually.”

He wipes his tears away, nodding slowly. “I just—I wish he’d let go of the weight of the world, you know? He has this—he has a tattoo. You can see part of it.” I look down. Sure enough, the way his shirt is bunched exposes a cluster of dark ink on his side. It’s meaningless between the darkness of the room and the rest of it being invisible.

“It’s of Atlas,” he tells me. “From Greek mythology.”

“The man forced to carry the weight of the world?”

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “He didn’t have a choice, you know? Atlas. But Maisondoes. I just—I wish you could take it away from him. He won’t drop it himself. I’m scared it’ll crush him one day, Hunter.”

It’s the first time he’s called me by my name since we agreed on him being my sub whenever he walks in the door. I know it’s not misbehavior. Even if I wasn’t already sure he’s too good of a boy for that, I can see it in his eyes. It’s because he’s deadly serious. He is scared and he wants me to help and we both know I can’t until Maison lets me.

I don’t want to fall in love with you.

Can you make it stop?

Does it scare you?

Is it because I’m bad?

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