lie to me.”
He looked at me with sad eyes, and I hated the resignation in them. He couldn’t contradict me. He loved me, but he didn’t believe I loved him, not enough. Maybe he assumed I wasn’t capable of it. The thought gutted me, and my mind seized with terror.
“You think you’re all noble and wise by backing out, huh?” My voice rose again with anger. “You’re just a coward.” I held on to the fury. It helped me to manage my fear of losing him.
He flinched, and I pushed on, grabbing at straws, attacking his weaknesses… whatever would work. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t live without Vincent. It wasn’t a possibility. Just no.
“You’re terrified. You think you can’t handle me outside of a tiny cabin in the woods. That I can’t love you when I’m not dependent on you and—”
“And can you?” he interrupted me. “Because I can’t take care of you when I’m like this. Sure as hell can’t fuck you.”
“Bullshit,” I snarled. “You’re going to pretend that’s all it was? Just fucking? Fight for me, dammit. Fight!”
“How? Just look at me.” He gestured with his free hand to his broken body.
“And that’s going to stop you?”
Tears prickled in my eyes. My anger wasn’t enough to stop them. Vincent looked away, mouth pinched, and my tears spilled over. The pain in his face pierced my heart. He hurt seeing me cry for him. It served him right.
“You promised you’d always come back for me,” I whispered.
“You don’t need me anymore, Mikey,” he murmured.
But I did. I needed him like I needed to breathe.
“You fucking coward,” I spat at him, my voice breaking, taking the sting out of my words. Suddenly, I was exhausted. After sleeping in that damn hospital chair every night, after worrying myself silly, after keeping a straight face when I saw clearly, I could be losing him, I was so drained it hurt to stand upright.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I spun around and left the room. The door swung shut behind me.
When I came home, the first thing I did was to send for a courier to deliver my sketchbook to the hospital. Then I went running around the estate—a mistake. The activity was now firmly associated with Vincent. Without anything to distract me but the rhythmical slapping of my feet on the pavement, my mind drifted. Sadness mingled with anger, fear with longing, and desire with self-deprecation, until I couldn’t distinguish them. What if Vincent was right? What if I was so sick in the head and broken, I couldn’t love him how he deserved to be loved? I was too young for him, too spoiled, too emotional, unstable, and obnoxious. I was a mess. Always had been. I’d fucked up so bad, an ex-lover had tried to kill me. What kind of headcase gets themselves into something like that?
After a few miles, my mind was cooking, my body burning. I sensed the self-destructive spiral forming, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
When I came back, my brand-new security chief, Louise… something, was in the hallway. She nodded in greeting, eying me apprehensively. I must’ve looked how I felt.
“I want complete privacy. Nobody on the second floor.”
“Understood, Mr. Bourgeon.”
“Thank you.”
By the time I got in the shower, I was on the verge of tears again. The helplessness was the worst. I needed an outlet, anything to make me focus, to help me think without the desperate ache in my chest. What if I am wrong? What if he simply doesn’t love me?
In my bedroom, sniffling and swearing, I rummaged for my toys. I could barely see through the angry tears that spilled again. God, I hated crying. Hated it.
I took the biggest dildo I owned, dark blue with a suction base. On the bottom of the drawer lay the flogger. It was black with knots and silver beads on the few leather strands—made to inflict pain, not pleasure. The flexible handle was so long I could easily hit myself with it over my back. I hadn’t been in a good place when I bought it, and I hadn’t used it in years.
Now I snatched it up eagerly.
21
His pain
Vincent
Michael knew exactly how to drive me insane with want and regret. Friday night, my last evening at the hospital, a nurse came in with a package.
“Your boyfriend sent this to you.”
My boyfriend. Oh, Mikey.
“Thank you.”
The package was surprisingly heavy as the nurse placed it on my lap.
“Let me help you.” He unwrapped it