Page 80 of Pose for Me
I run a wet hand down his face, thumbing across his cheek. “The best thing I’ve ever done was lock you in my dungeon.”
His lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t bloom. “Thought it was a cell.”
“It is,” I whisper. I pull in a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to say. “Lane, I’m letting you go.” When Lane only stares at me, I say, “You’re going home.”
“No,” he says simply. There’s no anger, no malice, no tears. Just a simple word that holds so much weight.
“You have to. I can’t?—”
“You can’t let me go.” His voice takes on a pleading quality.
“I know you think I’ll kill again, but?—”
He scoffs and wiggles out of my grasp. “This isn’t about you killing anyone, Ryell! This is about you trying to get rid of me. No. I don’t want to fucking leave.”
“You have to!” I shout back, making him jump, and I feel bad that I hurt him. Fuck, he has my head so fucked up. I’ve never had all these feelings and emotions and other shit. I fucking hate it. “You have to go. You look like a fucking zombie, thinking about yourpartner.” I spit that word out like it’s filthy.
Lane shakes his head. “No, listen. It’ll be fine. In a few days, I’ll be better, okay? I won’t…I won’t be sad. See?” He plasters on a wide, phony smile, pressing himself closer to me. He looks almost deranged as he tries to prove to me he’s not miserable. I can feel his heart thumping against my chest, and I know he can feel how much mine is racing.
The conversation wasn’t supposed to go like this. He should be happy, thrilled that he can go back to his normal life. Happy to see someone other than me, happy to tell his partner that he really was safe. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
Running a finger over his smiling lips, I shake my head. “No, Lane. You have to.”
His smile drops, and his lips tremble. “I don’t want to, Ryell. I wanna stay with you.” Tears drip down his cheeks, mingling with the shower water. “Don’t make me go.” He sits down on the shower bench and holds himself around the middle. “You can’t. You can’t get rid of me. You can’t. If you do, I’ll have no one. I need you, Ry. Please don’t.”
My heart fucking cracks in half as he breaks right before my eyes.
Kneeling in front of him, I rub his face, clearing the tears even though more water drips down on our heads. “It’s okay, baby boy. Don’t cry. I won’t?—”
Grabbing my wrist in a hard grip, Lane’s gaze bores into mine, and he hisses almost desperately, “Promise you won’t send me away. Fucking promise, Daddy.”
I frown, hating that he’s trying to trap me. He remembers I told him I wouldn’t break another promise, so if I utter the words, he’ll hold me to them.
But like Jacob said, promises mean nothing to me. Lane will get over it when I let him go. Even if it takes him a few months or even years, he will. He has to.
Even though I hate lying to him, I nod and say, “Okay, yeah. I promise.”
Lane sighs and sobs for a moment, placing his head on my shoulder. I pull him in, rubbing his back in gentle circles. I’ll comfort him now for the last time, but he’ll have to do it on his own when he’s free.
Fuck, I hate that I’ll hurt my boy. I hate that I’ll have to break his heart, but I don’t have a choice. Lane will just sink deeper into depression, and no matter how hard I try to make it better, he’ll wither before my eyes.
When he lifts his head, I give him a soft smile. “Let me wash you. Then we can eat dinner and go to bed.”
Lane nods, and I pull him to his feet. They’re still bleeding, and he hisses, but that doesn’t stop him from stepping closer to me.
After I clean him, I help Lane out of the shower and wrap his feet in bandages again. I give him a reproachful look, and he shoots me a shaky smile.
Scooping him in my arms, I carry him to my bed and lay him down, using a pillow to prop his feet up. I sit down beside him and push his damp hair from his face. “You hungry?” Lane nods,his eyes drooping. “Take a nap, sweet boy. I’ll get you some food, and I’ll feed you, okay?”
He sighs happily. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I kiss his forehead, my lips lingering against his skin.
Leaving the room, I go downstairs, and instead of going to the kitchen, I enter my office and beeline to my desk. Opening the bottom drawer, I remove the false bottom and pull out a syringe of tranquilizer. My heart thumps hard, sadness blanketing me at what I have to do.
When I return to the bedroom, Lane is lying on his side, his knees pulled close to his chest. I take a few moments to admire his beauty, but if I wait too long, I’ll change my mind.
I stride over to the bed and sit beside him. Lane turns sleepy eyes on me and smiles. Before he can get a word out, I pop the cap off the syringe and stick it into his neck.
