Follow Me

by Tymber Dalton

  A chill crept through Kel’s soul. “What are you saying, Niall?”

  “Keep in mind, none of us have or will ‘collar’ her. She is still yers.”

  “She uncollared herself, so technically no, she isn’t.”

  Niall glared at him. “That’s beside the point. She uncollared herself to save her life.”

  Kel’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Because she instinctively realized that the two of ye were goin’ to love each other to death. That the dance ye two did wasn’t gettin’ either of ye where ye needed to be.” He pointed at Kel. “She’s fightin’ for her life because she loves ye so much.”

  “If she really loves me as much as you insist she does, then why can’t I move home, or even ask her about it?”

  “When are ye goin’ to start workin’ on yer own shite?”

  Heat flashed through his face. “Focus on her, not me.”

  “But ye need to be workin’ on yer baggage, too.” He slowly shook his head. “Here’s the thing. Part of what we set up is she calls me, Doyle, an’ Doug ‘Sir.’ Ye’ll likely hear her call me an’ Doug that at dinner Sunday night. I want ye ready for that an’ not gettin’ upset about it, or readin’ anythin’ into it that’s not there. I need ye to keep the bigger picture in mind. It’s a title, an honorific, a way for us to tap into that aspect of her personality for us to help guide her.”

  Kel slumped back in his chair and struggled to absorb that. “Is she going to divorce me?” he finally asked.

  “Did ye not hear what I just said?”

  “Why would she uncollar herself and ask me to stay here at night if she isn’t going to divorce me? It feels like she’s trying to get me there slowly so it doesn’t hurt as much or something.”

  Niall muttered what sounded like a string of epithets, but Kel wasn’t sure. He scrubbed his face with his hands and then sat forward. “Listen to me. In her heart, she is your slave. All we’re doin’ is givin’ her a…different focus. One that can help her while not bein’ as emotionally intimate with her. Doug, Doyle, an’ I don’t have a problem callin’ her out for faulty thinking, but you do. An’ she can’t call ye out, either.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kel asked.

  “Halloween. The party. Ye wouldn’t let her hug anyone. That was one of the first breakthroughs we had with her the very first office session, an’ that was because we shook her feckin’ hand. She never hugged any staff up in Tampa, but we’re friends. Of course we’ll hug her, if she wants it. She said ye won’t even touch her.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me, man.” It knocked Kel back how quickly Niall’s voice shifted, his accent gone, his tone sounding deep, dark.

  Domly.

  Kel fought the urge to grab and throw something, anything—his phone, the stapler on his desk.

  His fist into Niall’s face.

  Kel sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to sit back in his chair. “You haven’t lived through what I lived through. I’m scared to hurt her.”

  “You carved into her flesh and pierced her, but are afraid to hug her?”

  “She’s a fucking skeleton! That was, what, over eighty pounds ago, if you count when she had the baby? Half of her weight she lost, at her worst!”

  Niall let that hang on the conversational branch for a moment like fetid fruit overdue a drop to the ground and buzzing with flies.

  “Get over it,” Niall softly said but still in that dark, deeper register and without the softness of his Irish accent. “She’s regaining weight. Yes, she’s still thin, but she’s far stronger than you give her credit for, and she’s not nearly as thin as you seem to think she is. I think you’re stuck remembering her at her worst instead of accurately seeing what she looks like now. Love her for who she is now, if you really love her. You won’t hurt her. But you have to love her in the ways she needs, not the ways you want to love her, because that is hurting her.”

  “Is that why she did all this? She’s mad because I didn’t let people hug her at Halloween?”

  Niall’s eyes dropped closed. “Bloody ijit.”

  The accent was back.

  “Well?” Kel asked.

  “No! Fer chrissake, man, did ye not hear a single feckin’ word I just said to ye?”

  “Apparently I need a map drawn because I must be stupid.”

  “This is why ye need to come in an’ talk to us.”

  “We’re talking now.”

  “We’re talkin’ about Mal an’ her progress now,” Niall corrected. “This is a status update, plus an FYI about Sunday. This isn’t therapy for ye, an’ ye need to be workin’ on yer own shite. No man wants his friend comin’ to him and tellin’ him how to own his slave, but I got to tell ye, ye’re either thick, or bein’ willfully blind at this point, if ye won’t listen to me.”

  “How am I in the wrong for wanting to take care of her?”

  “No one’s sayin’ ye’re wrong. Ye did the best ye could for as long as ye could. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s the situation. But we’ve found a plan that seems to be workin’, an’ if ye love her as much as ye say ye do, ye should be trippin’ all over yerself to break down our doors to talk and work on yerself now.”

  It took every ounce of strength Kel had to finally whisper it. “I’m scared. What if I get my hopes up again, and this is the time I can’t pull her back from the edge soon enough and I lose her forever?”

  He closed his eyes and sobbed, hating to feel so weak, glad she wasn’t there to witness his breakdown. It was bad enough he’d cried in front of her that day he’d brought her home from Tampa. He couldn’t pile the weight of his emotional darkness and fears onto her.

  He wouldn’t do that to her.

  He heard Niall heavily sigh and the chair creak as he stood. Then Niall engulfed him in a hug. “She’s not the only one needin’ a hug, aye?” he gently said. “Ye need to come talk to us. I’m not goin’ to give ye too many more warnings about this before the three of us put our heads together an’ modify the plan to keep her safe. Ye can’t keep goin’ like this.”

  “What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to sit there and tell you how fucking miserable I am? How my heart hurts because she lost the baby? What it felt like holding my dead daughter in my arms and trying to hide my broken heart from Mal after I got her home because I was afraid she was going to kill herself out of grief? That she felt guilty over something that wasn’t her fault, and here I was feeling shitty that maybe I was guilty because she got mad at me and we had a fight a few days before she lost the baby, all because I was trying to be protective of her? Or how terrified I am that I might have to bury my wife, too?”

  Niall hugged him a little tighter. “And that’s why ye need to come talk to us,” he said. “Because ye need to get all this off yer chest. Ye’re just as stuck as she is, but in different ways. She’s a food anorexic—you’re an emotional one.”

  * * * *

  Kel pulled himself together after Niall left. He had to, because he was supposed to pick up Mal soon to take her to a movie for a date night.

  Except he almost considered canceling, because he wasn’t sure he could remain calm around her.

  When the thought hit him that maybe Niall was right—since, well, goddamn, he’d been right so far—Kel shoved it out of his brain.

  He could only process so much at one time, and he’d already hit his limit.

  Still, he wouldn’t refuse spending time with Mal. So he finished what he’d been working on, saved his file, and headed upstairs to take a shower.

  Tonight he’d have to try to pretend she wasn’t a shadow of her former self, pretend not to notice any shocked or judgmental looks she’d no doubt draw from others who noted her appearance, and then fight the urge to go after people for looking at her like that. Her face and neck still looked hauntingly gaunt, no matter how she might try to hide her body.

  She was his wife, and he loved her, and wanting to punch people who mad
e her feel less-than was something he couldn’t help. He’d nearly gone after her uncle that night they’d moved her out of the house and in with him. He’d stood there and silently dared the man to say or do something.

  He took a deep, calming breath and channeled his strength into trying to process what Niall had told him.

  Tried not to feel like he was a failure for not being able to help Mal more than he had.

  By the time he picked Mal up he felt he’d mostly succeeded with all of that and even managed a smile for her.

  Still, when she hugged him hello he couldn’t bring himself to give her a stronger hug than he had been lately, more letting her lean against him and hold him.

  He closed his eyes and pictured his sweet goddess the way she’d been, tried to force himself to hug her harder…

  And he couldn’t.

  Maybe Niall’s right and I need more help than I thought I did.

  They had a good evening, though. Instead of trying to be hyper-vigilant about everyone else, he decided to focus only on her. It made his heart ache even more, because—before—they used to think nothing about going out to a movie or dinner.

  Things used to be so…easy between them.

  He’d taken their perfection for granted, never thought things would ever spin out of control like they had.

  Parenthood had been a shocker, but he’d embraced it, made dreams with her, built it up in his head what he thought they’d have.

  And then…

  Then.

  “Are you all right?” she asked when they were settled in their seats in the theater.

  He forced a smile. “I’m all right, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m just glad I’m with you.”

  At least that was something he didn’t have to lie about.

  Chapter Ten

  Vague terror filled Mallory as she stood in front of the mirror Sunday evening and stared at her reflection. Despite her earlier promise to herself not to do it, she stepped on the scale before getting dressed.

  Unchanged.

  Which…wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad, either. The two pounds she’d gained last week were staying put. Meaning when she saw Doug and Niall tonight at dinner, she’d be able to honestly tell them she hadn’t backslid.

  It surprised her to realize how proud that made her feel, too, especially considering how shitty the week had been.

  It made her all the more determined to do this, to succeed this time.

  Because so far, everything about this attempt had felt different in positive ways. She wasn’t enjoying not sleeping with Kel every night, but with every day that passed, she knew she’d made the right decision, and hopefully it wouldn’t be long before she could ask him to return home.

  Maybe longer before she asked for her collar back, but it was still her goal.

  But as she stared at herself in the mirror, she wondered how it was lying to her. She wore leggings and a cute tunic top she’d seen on Amazon that looked a lot cuter on the model than it did on her. Despite ordering it two sizes smaller than she would have worn before, and despite cautions in reviews for it that it ran small, it still hung off her, enveloping her.

  But it wasn’t one of the baggy, shapeless maxi dresses she’d defaulted to in recent months. Her legs were visible from mid-thigh down, her hips, her ass. No matter what the scale told her, no matter what logic told her, when she looked at her reflection, she saw the woman she thought of as “fat.”

  At least her muscle tone was returning. She did yoga every morning, and used small weights to do slow, low-impact exercises that would help her continue to rebuild muscle tone.

  When a memory hit her, of standing in front of this same mirror with Kel’s arms around her, a smile on his face as he felt the baby kick, she had to choke back a sob.

  She closed her eyes and ran through her mantras.

  I am enough.

  I am more than my body.

  The one that gutted her now even more than the final one had in the beginning—Kel has always loved me the way I am. He fell in love with me the way I was. I am, and always have been, good enough for my Master.

  Niall, Doyle, and Doug had all assured her that when that one stopped hurting so much, she’d have made a great deal of progress.

  Opening her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to turn away from the mirror. Her one brave act today was to not question how she looked for dinner tonight, not to second-guess herself or change clothes, now that she was dressed. Kel would be meeting her at June and Scrye’s, and May and her husband, Jim, would be there, too. And Doug, Niall, Etsu, and Aden.

  And Niall was going to talk to Kel and tell him she’d been calling the three of them “Sir” and gauge his reaction.

  If she could make it through tonight and feel calm, and feel like she was in control and not defaulting to unhelpful behaviors with Kel, her next step would be going with Kel to Sigalo’s for dinner next Saturday night.

  All in preparation for facing Kel’s mom and Chelbie and her men, and Chelbie’s parents, for Thanksgiving.

  My friends love me.

  Another mantra she’d never before realized how difficult it was to internalize.

  She stopped at the nursery door and stood there for a minute, eyes closed, breathing.

  It’s not my fault. I did nothing wrong.

  Understanding the logic of it, and actually believing it, were two different animals entirely. After a year-plus of work, it’d still been stuck there, like a toxic wart on her soul, tied to her unresolved issues with her uncle, and her grief over losing her parents so young.

  Because her uncle had made her feel less-than in an attempt to keep her dependent upon him.

  She reached out and touched the door.

  Tomorrow morning.

  Doug had told her not to set a timeline for herself to face this until she knew she could meet it. That it was okay to wait to set the timeline, but not okay to set herself up for failure.

  Except…one thing the recent events had driven home was that they didn’t always have control of the timing of life’s events.

  She was done being scared of facing this. She had to face it to make progress. Because she wanted Kel home, with her.

  She continued on to the living room to get her purse and keys and head out. It felt weird to be driving again after so long and she realized how much she’d missed it.

  One day at a time. One hour at a time. One step at a time.

  Only two weeks into this, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think she was magically cured, but she finally felt peaceful in a way she hadn’t in what seemed like forever. She actually did feel like she was making progress.

  Tiny steps, but ones that were carrying her forward.

  For the last three months she’d been at the facility, she’d felt…stuck.

  Hopeless.

  Now? She finally had true hope. Tiny and small, but solid in a way nothing had felt in too damn long.

  When she arrived at June and Scrye’s, Doug, Niall, and Aden were already there, but no one else was yet.

  “We told everyone else to be here thirty minutes later,” Niall said, wearing a playful smile. “We wanted to give ye a chance to settle in.”

  “Thank you. Where’s Etsu?”

  “She’s been a little wheezy with whatever’s bloomin’ right now an’ she decided it was safer to stay home. Her asthma’s givin’ her fits. But she kicked both of us out the door.” He smiled.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Nah, she’s fine, or she would’ve asked one of us to stay.”

  She asked what she needed to know. “Is Kel upset?”

  Doug shook his head. “No. He took it okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. But what I think will help reassure him is if he sees you eating something tonight.”

  She nodded. “I will. I had breakfast, a shake this morning as a snack, along with fruit and nuts, and I ate a salad at lunch with chicken breast and avocado.�
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  She pulled out her phone and showed them the pictures of it in her tracking app. It felt a little weird not texting them pictures of everything, but the habit had stuck with her to log her food and pictures in her tracker. If she found herself backsliding, she was allowed to start texting them pictures at every meal again.

  “Oh?” Niall asked as he took the phone and looked at it. “Excellent.” He showed it to Doug, who nodded, before he returned the phone.

  “And I weighed myself after my shower. I’m still holding.”

  “Even better,” Doug said.

  June looked like she was about to bite her tongue off.

  “Please just say it,” Mal told her.

  “I can’t,” June said. “I dealt with enough girls in my life with eating disorders to know nothing I say will make a difference, but it could hurt you. I love you, and I feel helpless.”

  If her mom was still alive, Mal wondered if she’d be like June now. “I’ll take a hug,” Mal said. “A real hug. I know Kel told everyone to be gentle with me, but I won’t break.”

  “We hug her,” Doug told her. “She needs hugs. And she’s gained weight since you saw her on Halloween.”

  “I know, but…” She sounded exasperated. “I’m a mom. Worrying is what I do.” June opened her arms to her and started out gentle, but as Mal held on to her, she gradually closed her embrace until it felt like a real hug, for once.

  “Thank you,” Mal said, clinging to her. “I promise I’m trying.”

  “Trying isn’t good enough,” June tearfully said. “I’ve lost enough people I loved. The last one nearly killed a bunch of us. I need you to succeed. I need you to beat this. You’re not much older than our daughters.”

  Yes, a lot of their group would remain raw for a long time from that loss. “Can I start taking yoga from you again?” Mal didn’t want to let go yet, wanted to savor this hug.

  “Sure. I’m free tomorrow afternoon, before pole-dancing.”

  Mal was certain she’d misheard her. “Pole-dancing?”

  “Yeah. We teach it now.”