Page 25 of Follow Me
Chapter Seven
Mallory hadn’t been sleeping well lately. The best part about being home for the Halloween party was remembering how much better she slept when in bed with Kel. So when she went to bed Monday night, she fully expected not to sleep well.
Until she awoke Tuesday morning a little before her alarm to realize she’d just had her very best night’s sleep in eighteen months.
Alone.
She lay there and tried to process that until her alarm went off. It would definitely be something she mentioned to the men.
She really didn’t have to be anywhere today, but she wanted to stay on a routine and try to keep her sleep patterns stable. Before, she would sometimes sit up in bed with her laptop, working long after Kel went to sleep. She hadn’t done much working lately, only a few projects for regular clients, like book covers.
She’d been helping Kel with his photography business, processing photos, both the vanilla kind and any he’d shot for his fetish photography side of things. She had enough money in the bank from her inheritance she had been able to not work while inpatient and working on her recovery, but shewantedto work.
Sheneededthe distraction now, needed the routine.
After using the bathroom and making the bed, she texted Doyle, Niall, and Doug, and then started her day. Checking her weight and logging it. Coffee and meds, and logging it. Breakfast, logging.
Saying her mantras.
When she started to think about her morning routinebefore, she shoved those thoughts out the door. It’d be too easy to miss Kel and think about asking him to come home now.
Because hewouldcome home, without hesitation.
In fact, she was supposed to tell the men if Kel tried to ask or order her to let him come home before she decided on it. It felt like tattling, but with it being a direct order from them, she knew she’d do it.
I’m not strong enough to do this on my ownyet, but I can be once I learn how.That was now Doyle, Niall, and Doug’s job—to teach her how to find her inner strength.
Unfortunately, she also knew Kel would never be able to teach her that. Especially when he was too busy exhausting himself trying to take care of her.
This wasn’t a busted ankle or something like cancer.
This was an ongoing medical condition she needed to learn to control.
Coming to that realization had been brutal, because it felt contrary to everything their love and relationship was built on.
She worried he’d feel it was a rejection of him, or a statement to him about what she felt for him, when the exact opposite was the truth—she loved him beyond reason and knew everything he’d gone through had been because of his love for her. Some guys would have thrown up their hands and saidsorry, you’re on your ownlong before now.
But not Kel.
He’d never given up on her.
It was time for her to start pulling her weight.
Today, however, was a decompression day, designed into the schedule by the men. Doyle being on the road to London, he’d text her once he was available to talk, and then they’d either do it over phone or via Skype.
She had reading assignments to get busy with, several books they wanted her to read, and which she’d already purchased and had waiting for her on her Kindle. They wanted her to work on her own art, if she felt like it, or even sit and watch a favorite movie or TV show—anything to help reset her soul, as they put it.
There was also one task she needed to take care of, now, before she went much farther.
She grabbed the box of tissues and her phone and settled in on her sofa to call Michelle Hansen, Kel’s mom. Michelle had made time to drive up every week to visit her at the facility and called her several times a week. She’d become like a second mom to her since Mal and Kel had first been together, and the fact that she’d also had a miscarriage had allowed her and Mal to bond in other ways.
Mal took a deep breath, pulled up Michelle’s number in her contacts, and hitsend.
Michelle’s bright voice filled Mal’s ear. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you doing today?”
There was no reason to drag this out, so Mal dove right in. “Well, I’m doing good. I decided I needed a change…” Michelle didn’t interrupt Mal while she gave her the run-down of the events of the last twenty-four hours—leaving out the uncollaring and BDSM aspects of things—and finishing with, “Please don’t be mad at me.”
A long pause preceded Michelle’s cautious tone. “You checked yourself out against doctors’ recommendations?”
