Cutting Cords (Cutting Cords Series Book 1)

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “I suppose I could get tested.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “But guide dogs have a harness and shit, right? People would still know.”

  “Cole, the issue here is you, not other people. You have to accept what is happening and get comfortable in your skin.”

  “I know you’re right, John. I’m sorry about being such an ass… especially the other day.”

  John shook his head and brushed off the apology with a wave of his hand. Cole was reassured when he felt John’s warm hand groping for his across the desk, and he held onto him for a few minutes without saying much.

  Finally, John said, “I’m here to help you in any way I can, Cole. If it means talking about your innermost thoughts or something as mundane as slicing cucumbers, I’ll listen. I’m not your enemy, son.”

  “I know.” The words brought unexpected tears to Cole’s eyes and the enormity of what he was trying to face on his own finally hit home. “I have to learn how to accept help.”

  “Yes. I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness, nor is utilizing all the tools available to us. A dog could be a wonderful companion, Cole. He would bring you many hours of enjoyment, while providing you with an extra level of security about being in open spaces. They are quite amazing.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “It’s the truth. Would you like me to do a little investigating about different breeds?”

  “That would be great.” Cole sighed in resignation. “John?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think I should marry Juliana? Have kids?”

  “The only one who can decide if she’s what you want is you.”

  “I thought she was.”

  “But?”

  “Nothing,” Cole whispered. He couldn’t say it out loud. He could not bring himself to admit that one night with Sloan had affected him so deeply, he was actually thinking of breaking it off with Juliana.

  “I’m sure you’ll talk to me when the time is right,” John said positively. “Meanwhile, we’ll work on trying to get you comfortable with taking public transportation. Let’s make it our short-term goal, shall we?”

  “Okay.”

  “How about right now? Why don’t we take the subway back down to Chelsea? I’ll ride with you so you won’t have to do it by yourself.”

  “Would you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you.”

  After I hung up with Emily, I made my way to the kitchen and opened up the pantry door, hoping I’d find something other than tuna or tomato soap. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  Every can was lined up in a row like soldiers on parade, alphabetized from what I could tell, with labels facing front and center. The soup, the canned vegetables and fruit, and last but not least, the tuna and sardines. Boxes were also alphabetized and lined up horizontally rather than vertically. I felt as if I’d fallen through Alice’s hole again, but I was sober this time and smack in the middle of obsessive-compulsive hell.

  Organized, he said? The man was a bona fide freak. I spun around and went back to my room, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out. I remembered a pizza joint on my way to school earlier today, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I came across it just as I turned the corner. Gino’s Pizza was a dive, but it smelled like heaven right now. The best part was, they sold pizza by the slice, a rarity in California, but one good thing about New York City I loved already. I asked for a slice of cheese with extra pepperoni and sat down at the counter facing the window. It was the perfect spot for a people-watcher like me. The walk-by traffic was entertaining as hell. We were practically on top of the subway entrance; in fact, the railing of the stairs was clearly visible from where I sat.

  I was about to bite into my slice when I saw Cole coming up the stairs with an impressive-looking older man who had a cane in his hand. He had a full head of snowy white hair with some leftover dark strands peppered throughout. He was talking to Cole, who was nodding and laughing at something he’d said. I had no idea who he was, but obviously Cole knew him quite well. They talked for a few more minutes and then embraced and parted ways. The stranger turned to go back down the stairs, tapping his cane in front of him. It finally dawned on me that he was blind. Who was he and why was Cole with him?

  Cole headed toward our building. The fucker was beautiful in his skintight jeans and leather jacket. I would have given anything to be the one who brought a smile to his face. Instead I sat there, checking out his ass and wondering how I would ever get him out of my mind. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself I hated him, I knew the opposite was true. All I could think about were his lips, his tongue as it fought for dominance in my mouth, the salty-sweet taste of his spunk when he came in a warm gush. I moaned softly when my cock pressed tightly against my jeans, adding to my frustration.

  Chapter 9

  Juliana was sporting a bright blue shirt, one of the bold colors she’d taken to wearing when Cole had finally admitted he could barely see. She did it to stand out, hoping he’d spot her without much effort, sparing his pride and saving them both from potential embarrassment.

  “You smell good,” he said, after kissing her on the cheek and pulling out her chair. “Have you ordered yet?”

  “No,” she replied, “I thought I’d wait to see what you wanted first.”

  He frowned. “I meant for you.”

  “How hungry are you?”

  Exasperated, Cole snapped. “What does my appetite have to do with your decision?”

  “Nothing, really,” she stammered. “I didn’t know if we were going to have a long meal or a quick bite.”

  Christ. He sipped his water and waited for the waiter to come and take their order. “I’ll have a Cobb salad,” Cole said without even looking at the menu. Juliana echoed his order and when they were alone Cole announced, “I’m going to make some changes.”

  “Oh? Like what?”

  “Take the subway more often and maybe even look into getting a guide dog.”

  Juliana gasped and said, “No.”

  “What do you mean no?”

  “I don’t want you to take the subway, Cole. It’s dangerous.”

  “Juliana, don’t be ridiculous. People do it every day.”

  “I’d feel better if you took a cab or let me drive you.”

  “I don’t want to depend on you.” Cole said bluntly. “In fact, I’d rather not count on other people for anything if I can avoid it. I appreciate your concern, but this is long overdue, and the next logical step on my journey. Even John agrees.”

  “John doesn’t love you,” Juliana protested.

  “If you truly care for my peace of mind, you’d insist I fend for myself. I know we’ve had similar conversations in the past, but I’m hoping you’ll be more understanding this time.”

  “But I want to take care of you,” she persisted. “There’s no need to suffer unnecessarily. Life will be hard enough without embarking on such a gargantuan task. Do you have any idea how dangerous the subway system can be to the uninitiated?”

  “I’m losing my eyesight, not my faculties,” he said coldly. “Get on board or get out of my way.”

  She gasped, and although he couldn’t see her clearly, he knew she was crying. “I’m sorry, Juliana. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She fumbled for a tissue in her purse and blotted her cheeks. Regaining some of her composure, she asked, “Why do you keep pushing me away, Cole? You’re the most important thing in my life. I want to help.”

  “I know.” He wished he’d never even mentioned the word subway. She just didn’t get it. He didn’t want to be treated like an invalid for the rest of his life. Changing subject, he asked, “Are you free this afternoon?”

  Juliana was a buyer for Bloomingdale’s and usually set her own hours. “Yes.”

  “Do you want to stop by the apartment for a bit?” In another words, let’s fuck and forget this
entire conversation.

  “Okay,” she said, clearly relieved to put the argument aside.

  Cole turned his attention toward the salad. His earlier resolve fizzled as the meal progressed. Maybe she was right and John was wrong. Urging him to don the outward trappings of a blind man might be premature. When they were done, Juliana hailed a cab for the trip to the apartment. They held hands as the driver navigated the crowded streets but didn’t make conversation.

  The apartment was quiet when they let themselves in. Cole was relieved Sloan wasn’t home yet. He didn’t feel like tiptoeing around in his own space. He kissed Juliana on the mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist. She responded immediately, sighing softly as she leaned into him. “I love you so much, Cole.”

  “I love you too,” he replied automatically.

  Cole led her into the bedroom and carefully peeled off her clothes. He wasn’t aroused, but he was working on it. Concentrating on Juliana first, they exchanged soulful kisses, and afterward, he spent quality time worshiping her breasts. She sighed happily as he teased her with his tongue. He stroked his lagging cock, irritated because it seemed to have its own agenda and Juliana wasn’t a part of it.

  She sensed the problem and slithered down his torso, taking him in her mouth. Cole squeezed his eyes shut and let her to do her thing, but his body refused to cooperate. Finally, in an act of desperation, he thought about the last time he’d been in a similar situation and it brought an instant response. He was rock-hard when he imagined Sloan sucking on him. Pushing her out of the way, he grabbing a condom from the nightstand, rolled it on quickly, and shoved into her warm depths.

  “Cole,” she said breathily. “This feels so good.”

  “It does,” he agreed, pushing in deeper. She wrapped her limbs around him tightly and let him do all the work. Suddenly it felt like masturbation. The only thing keeping him hard was the thought of Sloan’s magic tongue doing wicked things to him. He made every effort to prolong the session long enough for Juliana to climax. He could tell she was close, and he sighed in relief when she clutched at him, seconds before her body shuddered and pulsed. He came immediately afterward, grunting his way to an unsatisfactory finish. The sexual release should have put him in a better mood, but it didn’t. A part of him wasn’t engaged. Disgusted with the entire situation, he ditched the condom in the trash can by the bed and covered his face with a pillow.

  “Cole?” Juliana asked tentatively. “Are you awake?”

  Removing the pillow, he turned in the direction of her voice. “What’s up?”

  “Are we ever going to get married?”

  “Eventually.”

  “You’ve been putting it off, and I’d really like to get settled and make a home for you.”

  He sat up abruptly and announced, “I’ve got to pee.”

  He locked the door behind him, and leaned against it to try to calm down. He couldn’t believe how erratic his emotions were today: one minute euphoric because he’d made a decision to be more accepting of his situation; the next, filled with doubts because of Juliana’s misgivings. He was resolute when he and John had ridden the subway, comfortable with it all. A few hours with Juliana had erased his progress. It was driving him nuts.

  He moved over to the sink and gazed into the mirror. His peripheral vision was completely gone, but if he looked straight ahead and squinted, he could still see. Sort of. Same jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at him. There was one new element. A frown line had started to develop between his brows. Not surprising, considering all the new challenges he faced. Still…he touched the image, trying to find the person he used to be. Where had he gone?

  The ballplayer had vanished. The confident looker who’d attracted both sexes had disappeared. Even the meticulous historian seemed to be on hiatus somewhere. His entire persona was flopping around like a caught fish at the end of a line, letting the RP take over his life instead of the other way around.

  It was all so wrong, and John had been trying to tell him for months. Cole needed to get himself back before he could ever move forward.

  I was standing outside our apartment building, bullshitting with Etienne, fellow student, part-time model, and full-time partygoer with a convenient drug habit. He’d hooked me up yesterday, and we’d established a tentative rapport.

  “So, Tin,” I teased, shortening his pretentious French name, “how’d you get into the modeling business?”

  “Someone took a fancy to me and sent my photos to the Ford agency. It was quite a shock when they called.”

  “I’ll bet. Did you have to sleep with a certain someone to seal the deal?”

  “We were already lovers.”

  “Did he or she stick around?”

  “Who does?” Etienne said dismissively. “You should think about modeling, Sloan; you’ve certainly got the right body for it.”

  “You mean all these bones are good for something?”

  “Do you have any idea what models go through to achieve the right body weight? You’re one of the lucky ones who will never know a bulimic moment in your life.”

  “Maybe I have another issues,” Sloan quipped.

  Etienne arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he said knowingly. “Come with me to my next photo shoot and check it out.”

  “Let me think about it, okay?”

  “Don’t wait too long. You know what they say about opportunity.”

  “What?”

  “It only knocks once, bébé.” He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, assessing Sloan who was giving him the once-over.

  Tin was around six feet tall and striking in an androgynous sort of way. Sloan could easily understand how he turned heads in the world of high fashion.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Sloan decided. “You want to come upstairs?”

  Etienne grinned. “To play?”

  “No, dumbass. I have a roommate.”

  “Male or female?”

  “He’s a guy.”

  “Hot?”

  “Off-limits, Tin. Don’t even go there.”

  Etienne kissed him suddenly on the lips and said, “Well, I’m sure you and I can always find something to amuse each other, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Not today, my friend. I’ve got things to do.”

  “I’ll take a rain check then. Maybe over the weekend?”

  “Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” He grabbed me and air-kissed both sides of my face before loping off in the direction of Pratt. I watched him and wished I had a tenth of his confidence.

  I nodded at the doorman on my way to the elevator. My thoughts drifted back to the ludicrous suggestion to try modeling. Me? I’d hated my body since I was six years old.

  Junior passed me in height and weight around the time I was in eighth grade and I seethed with resentment. I detested the vitamins and special food supplements Dad insisted I take to increase my body mass. Comments like you’ll grow into your feet made me see red.

  Several nutritionists had tried and failed to improve my physique. Not surprisingly, I had a huge complex, always seeing my body as flawed. Too thin and too tall, I never wore shorts or sleeveless shirts because my arms and legs reminded me of a stickman in a cartoon. I tried eating six thousand calories a day one summer to see if it would make a difference, but in the end, I’d only gained five pounds. My metabolism seemed to be on overdrive. Dad hoped I’d play baseball, and although I was a decent pitcher and a better than average catcher, I didn’t have the physical stamina necessary to compete. I would have given anything to live up to my father’s expectations, but I never measured up to my brother.

  I began hurting myself because it made me feel better in the moment. The pain masked my sorrow whenever Dad bragged about Junior’s latest accomplishment. I got into trouble at school to become the center of his attention for a few hours. I hung out with risk-takers and jumped headfirst into the wonderful world of dope,
getting caught repeatedly. I’d been kicked out of numerous schools, despite my excellent grades, because I didn’t follow rules. The only thing keeping me sane was cutting.

  Psychiatrists were called in as soon as my parents discovered my addictions. The kicker, of course, was when I announced I was gay. My father wrote me off as a lost cause.

  I’d been in therapy forever and on antidepressants for almost as long. It was only in the last two years that I had found some semblance of peace with my interest in computers and graphic design. I had achieved some minor success in school thanks to my artistic abilities.

  Yet, on a personal level, my opinion of my body hadn’t changed. It was still an object of shame, and no amount of therapy had improved my outlook. The notion of strutting my stuff in front of a camera was terrifying. Ingesting rat poison sounded a lot more appealing.

  I let myself into the apartment and walked into the kitchen, only to find it occupied by Cole and a stunning woman in a formfitting top. The girlfriend, I thought sourly. Seeing them together made my stomach churn, and all thoughts of ever having any kind of relationship with Cole were curtailed as soon as I met Juliana. There was no way I could compete with her. She asked if I wanted to join them, but I shook my head. Staying would have implied a friendship I didn’t feel, and Cole’s disapproving glare made me rush out of the room like a scared rabbit. It was cowardly and annoyed the fuck out of me. Why should I be on guard when I hadn’t initiated the kiss? There was no need to feel guilty in Juliana’s presence, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. She had no idea what she was facing if the asshole went through with his plan to marry her.

  Chapter 10

  Cole was doing research for his class in ancient Japanese history with the special computer program he’d purchased from the Lighthouse Guild. Someday he’d have to switch to a voice-assisted program, but for now, he was still able to manage. His online courses gave him much more freedom to do things at his own pace, which helped to keep him on track. He was about four months away from getting his master’s degree in Asian studies. With his new diploma, he could teach wherever he wanted.