Page 132 of Until I Own You

In Barcelona, she poses on the steps of the Sagrada Familia. In Cambodia, she walks the halls of Angkor Wat. Even when I give up on beautiful locations, I still see her on the streets of Topeka, Kansas.

She is in every corner of my mind. Which means I will never be able to escape her.

Bridget will follow me everywhere. Unless I get over her.

But I can’t just get over her. Not after all of these years carrying a torch for her in pained silence. And not when she’s still my sub.

God, I hope she’s still wearing her collar for me.

On top of all of this, the ghost of my father has been following me. I have been having scores of memories of him. Ones that haven’t crossed my mind in years.

I want to talk to my mom about him, but I’m afraid it will hurt her. She was devastated after the accident. As was I. And though she’s never blamed me, not outwardly or even implicitly, I can’t help but feel there’s a part of her that wonders what actually happened out there.

Or even wishes it was me who didn’t make it instead of him.

So, I bury myself in codes and algorithms, fixing problems and trying to get myself out of every meeting I possibly can.

I’m distracted only when my phone starts buzzing repeatedly.

Jack: Hey man. We’re going out tonight.

Jack: Hate to say it but Abigail was right. Think it’s time I put myself out there.

Jack: Wanna come?

I drop my phone and rub my hands over my face.

Fuck.

I start to type out my response. A short, “No, but thank you.”

But Jack beats me to the punch.

Jack: Don’t be a hermit, dude.

Well, fuck it. Fine.

I’ll tell Bridget. I’ll cut things off. And then tonight, I’ll be available to whomever crosses my path. And if I can’t pick someone up at the club, I’ll go find a sub in the Underground. That’s the way to get over somebody. Get under someone else, right? Or in my case, very much on top of.

Except the mere thought of having a sub other than Bridget sends a wave of nausea through me.

How will I possibly move on? How could I even suggest that to myself?

I text him back quickly.

I’ll wing for you, dude.

Hopefully, a night out might get my mind off things. At least I won’t be drinking alone. Don’t have to make any moves on anyone. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could.

The second I press send, another text rolls in. Except, it’s in a different thread.

I back out into my list of contacts and feel the nausea return. A good nausea, though.

Because Bridget just texted me.

I open up the thread with the utmost caution, afraid I might tap on something I don’t mean to and screw everything up. Need to treat this situation with the utmost care.

Hope you’re having a good week. <3 I Just wanted to say…I’m still here for you. I know it’s not the way you want, but I don’t want things to end just because we can’t–

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