Page 39 of Losing his Daddy

“Gerald? Gerald! Where are you? Fuck!”

My bedroom door was open, but I’d moved to the far side of the bed to grab my phone. It meant my body was on the opposite side of the open door. As much as I knew I should call out for him to let him know my location and that I was fine, I didn’t. Because I wasn’t. Fine, that is.

I was anything but.

His frustration turned to worry as the octave at which he spoke rose. The cool demeanor he wore faded away with each word he rambled.

Eventually, he must have called someone. I heard him on the phone though I couldn’t make sense of his words. Not at first. When he made his way down the hall to my bedroom again, I could tell with crystal clarity that he’d called the police.

“Yes, I understand you have a policy about how long it takes before a missing person report is filed, but this is urgent.” He went quiet, likely from the other person speaking. “Yes, I’m sure. Check his bedroom again? Oh! Yes, I guess I should check to see if he packed his stuff up and left.”

His steps drew closer and closer until I could hear him inside my space. The carpet muted him, though the force of each footstep was still loud with my head to the floor.

“It looks like his stuff is still here so maybe — oh fuck! He’s here. I found him. He’s on the floor.” His hand moved to my back, then his face was leaning over to meet my open eyes. “Gerald? Are you ok? What happened?”

By some miracle, I managed to shake my head. It was a subtle movement, but the very observant man before me caught it.

“Ok… ok. We’ll figure it out. I’ll get you help. Is it… are you in pain?”

I nodded.

“Where does it hurt? Should I call an ambulance?” He waved his phone in front of my face. The call with the police must have ended once he realized I was here.

I shook my head as I forced the word “No” from my lips.

How could I explain this to him? I’d already told him about my addiction. This is only a step away from that. In fact, it’s directly connected.

And yet, the words won’t come. I can’t explain it to him. Hopefully, he’ll give me time to find the words. Because above all else, I knew he wouldn’t let this incident go without answers. Weston was a man who controlled everything with precision. In a way, I belonged to him as his employee, which meant the pain I’d sought to avoid would have to be put on display.

Chapter Sixteen

Weston

Earlier in the day

“What’s that tune?I remember it, but I can’t place it.”

I turned to face Dexter, one of the men on my team. “What tune?”

“The one you’re humming,” he replied, face scrunched.

I hadn’t even realized I was making any noise. Shrugging, I stacked the papers in my hand to give me something to do. Maybe then the moment would be a little less awkward.

“Not sure. Something I heard somewhere I guess.”

He shook his head, then turned back to the project we were working on. I needed to focus if I wanted to get things done in time for lunch. We had about half an hour, then Gerald would be showing up with food for us to eat in my office.

It was a bit odd at first, having him here in my space so often. Not because I didn’t want him around. More like I wanted him around all the time. It was hard simply due to my own desires that I’d worked to suppress. The more effort Gerald put into his work, the deeper I felt connected to him.

What a fucking joke I was.

I’d been sure about Gerald from the moment we met. I knew he’d be a good fit in my life, and he’s proved to be invaluable. There’s a natural submissive energy to him. It called to me like no other before him had.

Problem was, we were both only so far removed from our haunting pasts. Danielle would probably pop up sooner or later in my world. We ran in the same circles, so it was inevitable. And as for Gerald, he was going to have to face his past at some point. I knew it would probably be sooner than later.

After he’d mentioned his addiction to me, I’d researched the fuck out of it. I didn’t know anyone personally who’d faced such challenges. Digging through the Internet seemed to be the best resource I could find, since I hadn’t wanted to ask the man directly.

My research led me to a somewhat better understanding of things. While every person was different, there was a clear agreement across the board that for many, the chances of relapse were possible. It was heightened for those who lived in a world of denial — much like Gerald was doing.

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