Page 11 of Follow Me
That shut him up. He didn’t want her there alone. The image of her tripping and falling down the stairs and hurting herself flashed through his mind and nearly made him shudder.
A little over an hour later, he was at the apartment. It was a unit in the industrial complex he owned, the unit directly behind Venture, the BDSM club he was technically partners in with Derrick and Marcia.
Another responsibility he’d allowed to fall to the side, because he’d been too consumed with worry about Mal.
He drove his truck and left Mal’s car at the house for her, although the possibility of her attempting to drive right now terrified the fuck out of him.
He’d considered disabling her car so it wouldn’t start and realized that would only piss her off and probably make her not trust him, but he did extract a promise from her to either call him if she felt she couldn’t drive, or to call an Uber, or friends. It was small comfort, but he had to believe she wouldn’t lie to him about something like that.
Downstairs was his office, and that was where he worked, his computers there for processing photographs he took as part of his vanilla job. He hadn’t been doing much photography work lately, though. Much of that work was for commercial clients, like product photography for boats, cars, buildings and houses for real estate companies and builders, and retail products.
He also did lifestyle photography, especially of shibari and rigging, but he’d let that part of his career fall to the side with all of this.
Mal had been his favorite subject…before. His beautiful canvas for his own personal dark art.
At least he had his income from the commercial properties he’d invested in. That paid his bills both for the commercial properties and for their home. Mal had worked both as a graphics designer, as well as helped him with his photography business. But it’d been months since she’d actually worked, because he’d ordered her to focus on her recovery.
He carried his laptop and overnight bags upstairs. The apartment’s air felt a little stale, so he flipped on the AC after he dropped his things on the couch.
It didn’t feel right being here now like this.
Before he’d met Mal, it’d been his home, his cozy fortress of protection from the world.
It was where he and Mal fell in love and became a family.
He felt…
Helpless.
Except…there wasonething he could do.
He dug out his cellphone and called Niall.
Honestly? He was shocked when Niall answered on the second ring. He’d expected his friend to let it go to voice mail.
“Hello, Kel. She already called an’ told me she was home. I was expectin’ yer call.”
Rage washed through him. “How could you fuckingtalkto Mal and nottellme?” Kel realized he was screaming and didn’t even care. “She’smygoddamned wife and slave, and you didn’t think her coming up with this plan warranted a fucking heads-up tome?”
Niall sighed. “I asked her for permission to talk to ye about this, an’ she asked me not to tell ye that, or to get into details with ye beyond what she okays, now that she’s home. She’s seein’ me as a client. I cannot break confidentiality, an’ neither can Doyle, nor Doug, an’ ye damn well know it.”
“As my friends—”
“As yerfriend, I’m gonna tell ye to shut yer bloody gob an’ listen to me for a feckin’ minute!” Niall roared over the line, shocking Kel.
He’d never heard Niall raise his voice. Ever. The friendly Irishman was usually chill as fuck.
“Ye gonna listen?” Niall asked.
Kel swallowed back his fear, his anger—his feelings of betrayal. “Yeah,” he finally said.
“She’s in pain, an’ ye damn well know it. Here’s what Icantell ye, an’ both Doug an’ Doyle are in agreement with me. The fact that she’s tryin’ to take control of this is a positive step.”
“You’re not a specialist in eating disorders.”
“No, I’m not, I’ll give ye that. But I’ve done a lot of training an’ work in the field of obsessive-compulsive disorders, an’ there is a bit of overlap with that. I have had training in eating disorders, in school, even though my focus is addiction recovery. We’re also bringin’ in Dr. Doug Strickland. I believe ye’ve met him. He’s a friend in common.”
“Ishea specialist in eating disorders?”
