Page 82 of His to Teach
Something seemsto shift in me after seeing Mason. The pain in my chest sharpens, burning away some of the numb fog that’s been hanging over me the last few days. Ever since Nate left, I’ve felt sapped of energy, unable to do much more than lay on the couch or in my bed. But now the thought of wallowing holds no appeal. In fact, thinking about it makes me feel on edge, desperately antsy and unsettled.
I can’t sit in this apartment for another minute.
Getting drunk at a bar doesn’t sound all that terrible, but Emma is working at a new restaurant opening her firm is promoting, so I can’t beg her to take me out somewhere. I could go out by myself—you don’t really need company to get wasted.But I have a feeling that even massive amounts of liquor won’t do much to take the edge off.
You could go to the club, a voice in my head whispers.
The club. It’s painful to imagine myself being there without Nate. At the same time, I yearn to be anywhere that reminds me of him. There are so many memories of us together there, Nate slowly introducing me to a world I never could have imagined on my own. I’ve rarely felt closer to him than I did at Club Wyld.
I could get in on my own, if I wanted to. As his submissive, Nate secured me a permanent guest pass, only one step down from full membership. I had hoped that someday soon I’d earn that membership. Now that probably will never happen.
Suddenly, I’mpissed. Nate changed my whole world when he took me behind that steel door at the club all those weeks ago. He opened up my eyes to a lifestyle I always yearned for, yet had never fully understood. I’d been struggling for years to come to terms with my desires, with the guilt they inspired in me. And just when I was starting to feel okay about it, to feel like maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with me after all, he went and ripped the rug right out from under me.
“Fuck that,” I mutter, standing. I’m still hurting. I’m sad and I’m confused and my mind feels all over the place. In the past few weeks, I’ve learned that the best way to quiet too-loud emotions is to turn myself over to someone else. That was supposed to be Nate’s job, but he’s made it very clear he’s no longer interested in the position.
But that doesn’t mean someone else couldn’t do the same thing for me. That doesn’t mean I have to do without the release he taught me to crave.
Maybe it’s time I find another dom to satisfy my needs.
NATE
The night of Renee’s accident had been, without a doubt, the worst of my life. When I think back on it, all I see is a blur of guilt so strong it knocked the breath from my lungs. I spent months after her return to Florida going over it and over it in my mind. What I should have done differently. How I had failed her.
It was a terrible time that I only managed to get through by strictly partitioning the different parts of my life. I cut myself off from love and true connection as a way to survive.
Then Harper came along to tear down those carefully constructed walls and now here I am, living through another blur of guilt and pain.
But it’s so much worse than it was last time. Because, unlike with my ex-fiancee, I let Harper into every part of my life. We connected on every level—in the bedroom, at the club, in conversation, over our work. Now she remains in all of those corners of my mind and heart, a painful shadow that I can’t shake. I think about her constantly, no matter what I’m doing.
And the really sick thing about it? I want her there, in my thoughts and my memories. As painful as it is, I need to think about her, to remember what we had. I only want to be in placeswhere I felt close to her, and since the club is totally out, I hole up in my house, where her ghost seems to flit through every room she’d ever been in.
I call in sick to work. I drink an excessive amount of whiskey. And I think about Harper.
I have no idea what day it is when I receive the phone call. Wednesday? Tuesday maybe? Time doesn’t seem all that important to keep track of anymore, the days and nights bleeding into each other as I miss her. I’ve been ignoring most contact with the outside world, but when I see the name on my phone screen, I jump up, immediately alert.
“Emma?”
There’s no response for a moment, and I wonder if she’s surprised I knew it was her. Though I had never called her, I’d programmed her number into my phone as soon as Harper and I became something real, just in case I needed to get a hold of her. “Emma?” I ask again. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” she says, her voice flat, and my stomach drops.
Please, God, don’t let anything have happened to Harper.
“Tell me,” I somehow manage to say, even as my mouth goes painfully dry.
“Harper went out tonight. She left a note. I think…I think she went to that club.”
It takes a minute for the words to sink in.
Fuck.
“When did she leave?” I ask, already standing.
“I have no idea.” Emma sounds upset. “I’ve been at work since four. She’s been totally wrecked, Nate, I really don’t think it’s good for her to be there right now.”
I push away the stab of guilt at the characterization of Harper as wrecked. Emma is absolutely right—the club is not where she should be in that frame of mind. There are people there whowould be all too happy to take advantage of someone who is hurting and vulnerable.
“I would have gone after her myself,” Emma continues, “but I don’t have a pass or?—”
