Page 46 of Collin: Episodes 4-6
Damian shook his head and smiled. “Breakfast meeting at the airport. But we finalized the deal. So, worth it.”
“Did you at least beat traffic?”
“Only on the way there.”
“Too bad.” Collin forced himself to chuckle in a wry sort of way.
Damian put a hand on the back of his chair but didn’t sit down. “I heard you had a bit of an incident at the office.”
Collin pulled a face. “Ash is handling it. As much as it can be handled. Mr. Reevesworth knows more than I do.”
“Ash is handling it.” Mr. Reevesworth entered the kitchen, linen pants draping his muscular legs, and smelling clean and musky.
Collin pressed his nails into the palm of his hand. Where was his inner calm when he needed it? What he wouldn’t give for the blue rope to be back, holding him in place, making something solid.
Mr. Reevesworth pulled out his chair, and Mr. Moreau joined them, bringing the final bowl of soup. Collin stepped away. How was this supposed to work?
“Collin.” Mr. Reevesworth pointed to the floor beside his chair. “I’ll teach you the correct posture later, once you’re cleared for exercise. You may sit however you choose, for now.”
Blood burned Collin’s face. Everyone else was sitting at the table. He would be on the floor. It was both good and also harrowing. If only he could run from the room and hide or, better yet, do that and also crawl under Mr. Reevesworth and hide at the same time.
Neither option was to be had.
He hurried to Mr. Reevesworth’s side and dropped down on his butt. It was too awkward. He couldn’t keep his back straight, and slouching was just disrespectful. He tucked his legs under him and knelt like he’d seen characters do in anime. His fingers fluttered. He shoved them between his legs, forcing them to stillness.
Above him, Mr. Reevesworth addressed Mr. Moreau. “It smells lovely, Émeric. Thank you for cooking.”
“Collin was a wonderful help. Please eat.” Mr. Moreau answered.
The white static that had been in Collin’s ears was more like a pulsing haze now, blocking out other sound. The back of his neck burned, and he was dragging in air as carefully as he could. He just had to breathe slowly enough that no one would hear him.
Something touched his lips. He startled, his hands coming up and his elbow slamming into the underside of Mr. Reevesworth’s chair. He curled inward, on the hurt, grasping for his arm. His head slammed into the leg of the table just in front of him.
Cutlery clattered. Something fell from the table. Collin pushed away, his pants sliding on the floor. Mr. Reevesworth stood, his chair toppling back. Hands reached toward Collin’s face.
He threw up his arm to shield himself.
“Collin.”
He shook his head. That hurt. He doubled over, pressing his hand to his eyes.
No one spoke. He rocked, the pain pulsing in his arm and head. It came down slowly, only to make way for shame.
It didn’t seem like anyone was speaking or even moving. He raised his head and forced his eyes open.
Mr. Reevesworth was on one knee right in front of him. Damian was standing by the table. Mr. Moreau stood just to the side of his husband but giving him space.
“Sorry.”
“Not the time to worry about that, kitten. Take a moment.”
Collin closed his eyes again. He pressed his head to his knees. Another minute and he felt like he could raise his head.
“Collin.”
“Yes, sir.” He blinked at his dom.
Mr. Reevesworth moved his hands toward Collin’s face, moving slowly. “I’m going to touch you and check your eyes.”
