Page 17 of Unravelling Nell (Fairford Affairs)

She wouldn’t ever go back to him, no matter how much therapy he got. Not after all the shit he did to her. But what if the emails could provide some sort of closure—help her move on?

Absolutely fucking not.

Before she could do something monumentally stupid, she clicked the little box to select every single email from Micah, and then hit the trash can icon. Relief flooded through her the second they were off her screen. It didn’t matter what he had to say. Nothing would get her to take even a single step down that road again.

It took only a few seconds after that to find and copy Holly’s email address, and she signed out of the account before anything else could tempt her. Nell smiled as she signed into her new account—the one she created on a library computer once she arrived in Tampa. She wasfinallylearning, finally getting stronger. Micah wouldn’t snare her in yet another of his endless traps.

Pulling up a new email, Nell loaded in Holly’s email address, then typedI left him, I love you, and I’m sorryinto the subject line. Hopefully that would be enough to get her to open the email instead of deleting it right off the bat.

Now for the hardest part. What could she possibly say that would convince Holly to speak to her again?

Okay, that was actually pretty obvious: the truth. As much of it as she could force herself to put down into words.

With a deep, steadying breath, she started typing.

Dear Holly,

The absolute most important thing I need you to know is that I’m sorry. I’m sorrier than I’ll ever be able to say. Please give me a chance to prove to you how truly sorry I am for the things I said to you, the things I put you through.

I left Micah. It’s been over a year, and I haven’t seen him, spoken to him, nothing. He has no idea where I am or how to find me, and I’m keeping it that way. It wasn’t long after the intervention that I started to realize everything you guys said was true. But by then, it was too late. I didn’t know what to do, how to get out, where to go, anything at all. He had control over every single aspect of my life.

I was so scared and ashamed and confused and alone. I kinda checked out for a while. Went along with whatever I needed to do to survive. It wasn’t until something bad enough happened that I finally snapped out of it and found my way out.

I’m safe now. I found kind people who I can trust, and they’re helping me rebuild my life and learn how to be happy again. One of those people helped me find the courage to reach out to you.

If you never want anything to do with me again, I’ll understand. I know how much I fucked up. That’s why it took me this long to reach out to you. But if you can find it in your heart to at least consider the possibility of forgiving me, I want nothing more in the world than to talk to you.

Love,

Noelle

She read through the email a few times, making tiny tweaks until she was happy with it. Moving the cursor over the blue send button, she closed her eyes and forced her index finger to press down.

All the air rushed out of her lungs as soon as her finger lifted off the left click button. Holy fucking shit, she actually did it. She seriously let Rafe talk her into this shit. Into facing the guilt and burning humiliation of what she did all those years ago. And for what—orgasms? Was she really willing to torture herself for a sexual fantasy or two? Had she learnednothing?

What if Holly wrote back that she hated Nell and would never, ever forgive her? Maybe Holly moved on, and here she was, crashing through her sister’s boundaries and hurting her even more.

Or what if the address was old, and Holly never saw it? Even if she did read it, that didn’t mean she’d be willing to write back. Either way, Nell would be in the dark, having no idea which one it was, hating herself for ever daring to believe she could have Holly back.

Fucking hell, this was ridiculous. She used to be so happy. To look out at the world with unrestrained joy and hope. She hated the terrified, shrunken creature she’d become.

Before her mind could come up with even more doomsday scenarios, she opened a new tab and Googled the first career-related thing that popped into her head:Jobs to help abused women. Her racing mind calmed as soon as she hit enter. What if she could help other women escape situations like the one she left? Help them start over somewhere new and safe, the way Mistress Freya helped her? That would be fucking amazing.

Several of the search results were job sites, so she started scrolling through them, making a list in a new document of anything that sounded remotely interesting and bookmarking links for jobs that deserved a deeper dive.

Leaving her two lists, the latest job site, and her email to Holly open, she flipped the laptop around to face Rafe. “I’ve finished my tasks for today, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said, setting his phone down next to his empty coffee mug and picking up the laptop. His eyes moved from side to side as he scanned each page, his blank expression giving nothing away. It wasn’t until he finished reading through the final one that he arched his eyebrows. “Your parents named you Noelle and Holly?”

“We were both born right before Christmas, one year apart,” she explained, one corner of her mouth twisting up into a wry smile. “Which we realized when we were teenagers meant we were probably both conceived on their anniversary.” She rolled her eyes, earning a tiny huff of a laugh from her stoic Dom.

“If you prefer Noelle, I can call you that instead. Your application only had—” He stopped speaking when she shook her head.

“I didn’t start going by Nell until after I left Micah.” Just saying his name sent anxiety twisting through her chest. “So I had to sign it like that so she’d know it was me. But I prefer Nell now, Sir.”

Anytime Mistress Freya or one of the members at Valhalla said her actual name in their Dom/Domme voice, it had sent her into a full-blown panic spiral. It was the Mistress who realized she probably had one hell of a case of PTSD, and helped her pick a shortened version of her name that she truly loved.

“Understood,” Rafe said, closing the laptop and setting it aside. “Now, by my count, you earned three points today. So why don’t you come up here”—he patted his thigh, looking down at her with a wolfish smile—“and tell me one of your deepest, darkest fantasies.”

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