Page 29 of Imperfect Skin

Doc’s grumbling was oddly comforting.

“I can’t convince you to speak to Donald about this?” he asked, as he applied more antiseptic salve and waterproof dressings to some of the more severe welts.

“Officer Grumpy?” I used Rhys’s old nickname for the local constable. These days he was less Officer Grumpy and more Donald, but the nickname had stuck.

“Yes. I know you don’t want to press charges, but the severity of these wounds and the bite—he was aiming to inflict damage. This wasn’t the actions of a Dom, but an unhinged individual.” He applied more antiseptic cream and gauze to the bite on my shoulder, dressing that too in another waterproof plaster.

Doc moved around to my front, lifting my chin and focusing on my bruised nose.

“Ouch, that hurt. And no, I don’t want to talk to Donald. I did something stupid and I’m not going to let it happen again, I promise.”

Doc glanced at me before making me turn my head left and right. “Alright, I’m not going to push you on this. Just keep taking the antibiotics and keep your wounds clean. Your nose isn’t broken, but it and your cheek are already bruising like a naughty sub’s arse. Let’s get your clothes back on, then come sit for a minute.”

Once dressed, I followed Doc to his desk, sitting in one of the chairs in front of him.

Doc leaned forwards on his desk, elbows resting on its worn surface. “What you went through last night was an assault, and a violation of trust. It would be remiss of me not to encourage you to speak with someone.”

“You mean someone like Dec?”

“Yes, or I can give you the names of a couple of other therapists I know who are also open-minded towards the lifestyle.”

My initial response was to say fuck no. I’d tried therapy after the crash, and it had just left me feeling worse. But I’d seen the changes in Rhys since he’d started to see Declan, and my way of sorting my headspace out didn’t seem to be working. So maybe it was time to take the risk and talk to Declan.

“Do you think Dec would have space to fit me in?”

“I’m certain he would. I’ll speak to him on Monday.” Doc studied me for a moment, his eyes searching. “I’ll ask him if he can fit you in on a day Rhys isn’t working, if you don’t want him or Simon knowing.”

“Yeah, for now that would be great. I know how they’ll be, all proud and supportive and shit.” I sighed, wanting to slouch in the seat, but my back kept me sitting upright.

“Yes, I can imagine how terrible it must be to have such supportive friends and family.” If Doc’s tone were any drier, it would be a desert.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” I answered, trying not to be bitchy. I got it, I really did. And Simon and Rhys were fucking brill. But sometimes it could be a bit much.

“Probably comes from spending so much time around you lot.” Doc laughed. “Come back in on Monday so I can check on that bite again, and the larger welts. Just remember to keep them clean and dry, and remember to put the salve on them after you shower. I left the jar at Callum’s last night.”

“I promise I will. I’m pretty sure Cal’s not going to let me forget. It’s like he’s taken a shot of the same Daddy juice Simon drinks.” I smiled, remembering our conversation in the car. “And thanks for last night, Doc. You didn’t have to come out but I’m glad you did, and I know Cal would be saying the same thing.”

“You don’t need to thank me, just keep yourself safe for my heart’s sake.” Doc tapped the table then smiled. “Mind you, I don’t think Cal’s going to be letting you out of his sight for a while.”

I smiled, not finding the idea terrible at all. “Yeah.”

The drive home was quiet. Cal and I were both lost in our own thoughts. My mind kept jumping from the decision I’d made to see Declan to the discussion Cal and I were going to have.

I hadn’t lied when I’d told Cal that I was excited and scared. He was always the ideal in my brain, the man I’d held up as my blueprint for the perfect guy, and now he was offering to be my Dom—and if I was reading things right, my Daddy, too. The whole concept was freaking me out. I'd never thought there was even a remote possibility that Cal might feel anything other than a big-brother sort of affection for me.

“Alice is probably going to want to know how you hurt yourself when she gets home tomorrow night.” Callum’s voice broke the silence in the car.

I looked out at the misty view. The weather had turned bleak and cold since we’d left Tewsbury, triggering memories I’d rather not dwell on. “I’ll tell her I had a bit of a tumble off my bike.”

“Good idea. She won’t buy it for a second—you’re a terrible liar—but she won’t pry. As long as she knows you’re okay, she’ll leave it be,” Callum answered as he focused on the road.

“She’s smarter than both of us combined,” I laughed, knowing the don’t give me that bullshit look Alice would give me.

Up ahead, blue lights flashed, and I could see the shapes wearing high-vis vests. My gut clenched uncomfortably as the car drew closer. Callum pulled the car to a stop when we saw a police car parked across the road.

Donald Mathis, aka Officer Grumpy, approached us from the side of the road, his wet weather jacket pulled closed.

“Morning, Cal. Afraid you’re going to have to take the laneways back to your place. Lorry’s gone over, spreading chicken feed all over the road.”

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