Page 77 of Mine

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I keep wondering when you’re going to tell me you’re leaving for culinary school.”

I’m pretty sure I do the fish face again, and the back of my neck tingles. I love cooking. Obviously, I know that, and I can’t pretend the thought of becoming a chef hasn’t ever pricked at my subconscious, but I never took it seriously, never allowed myself to really consider it until this moment. Hell, even Marshall has hinted about it, though he’d never come straight out and asked about it, which I’ve been grateful for. I think he doesn’t mention it because of the contention between me and my parentsabout school—and probably because of our age difference and relationship dynamic. Marshall wants to keep those lines clear, doesn’t want me to feel he’s being like them, and…holy shit.

“Are you okay?” Marty asks when I sit down in a chair.

“Yeah… I just… I think I want to be a chef.” But I’d never allowed myself to consider it, to see or acknowledge this burning need inside me, because it feels like saying my parents were right, like what I’m doing now isn’t enough, or like I have to go through some kind of schooling to be happy and productive.

Marty chuckles. “Are you just figuring that out?”

Yes, yes I am. Kinda. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I believe you’ll be great. We need more chefs like you in the triangle.” Marty gives me a smile and walks out while I try to wrap my head around what just happened and what I might do.

I’m in a bit of a daze my whole shift. My heart races as I drive home to Marshall, wanting to share this with him, wanting his opinion because I trust him more than anyone in this world.

He’s waiting for me downstairs in the living room, like he always does. It’s such a silly thing to get used to, to look forward to, but I love that we go up to bed together every night, that Marshall doesn’t go up without me.

After taking off my shoes, I immediately go to my knees and crawl over to him. He watches me curiously. “You look happy. What happened?”

I wait to reply until I’m kneeling between his legs, looking at my Sir.

“I want to be a chef.”

He grins. “I know.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

“Because I knew you would come to that conclusion yourself, and more importantly, I knew youneededto come to thatconclusion yourself. It couldn’t have anything to do with me, John, Callie, or anyone else.”

Any last nerves or questions I might have felt simply…dissolve, melt into nothing. I’m going to be a chef because it’s what I want and for no other reason. “You always give me exactly what I need, even when I don’t know you’re doing it.”

He tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s…sad. Happy for me, but the pain inside him is growing. “I’m just a man, Jay. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. I get things wrong.”

“I know, but you also take the time to see things others don’t. You try more than most people, and you always lead with this.” I press my hand to his chest, right above his heart. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you, and I’m so fucking thrilled, but…”

“But you want to share it with them.”

“No.” I shake my head. “It’ll just make them think they were right all along.”

“Two things can be true at once. Sometimes people tend to think things have to be one or the other, and not everything does. You can want to share it with them because they’re your parents and you love them, while also not wanting to because you believe they’ll think they were right all along. It’s okay to want to share this with them. It’s okay to call and tell them. It’s okay to have a relationship with them, even if I can’t. I want you to have a relationship with them. It kills me to think of you losing them because of me.”

“It kills you to lose them yourself.”

Marshall looks away from me, and I want nothing more than to fix this for him. To give my Sir his family back.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, rather than responding to what I said. “And if you need my help, you have it. If you want to be an independent little shit, I won’t like it, but I’ll accept it.”

Because school costs money I don’t have, and I sure as shit won’t take it from my parents.

A few months ago, I wouldn’t have wanted to take it from Marshall either, but I’ve grown, changed. Being with him has shown me new ways of looking at things. “I would like that…your help. I’ll pay you back in blowjobs and meals?”

He chuckles, his smile now reaching his ears, then grabs my face. “Good boy. But how can you pay me back with what’s already mine?”

Because I am his. And always will be.

“Let’s go upstairs. I need my little cock sleeve to keep my cock warm tonight.”

I lick my lips. “I can’t wait.”

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