Never Knew Until You

by L E Royal

  “This isn’t going to work for me. Thank you for your time.”

  She left with her head held high, ignoring the protests and pleas that continued from the front door, as she slid down into her car and drove away.

  Only after she had made it a street away, a block away, a town away did she pull to the curb and cry.

  Chapter Eighteen

  HER PHONE VIBRATED against her nightstand again, and she let it ring. Marion had called on and off all day. Parker had sent her a quick text last night to let her know she was home and it didn’t work out, but she hadn’t wanted to go into it any further, to dissect all the ways Brenna was completely wrong for her, how she wasn’t Kristina.

  Reading a sentence for the third time, she blew out a breath as finally the vibrating stopped, and forced herself to focus. This was nice, relaxing. She was in bed by eight with a glass of wine and a book she’d been meaning to read for years. It was quiet and simple, and exactly what she needed to recharge. She’d barely made it two lines down before the phone rang again.

  She slammed the book facedown to keep her place, yanked it from the nightstand, and accepted the call.

  “I told you I would call you tomorrow, Marion!”

  She tried to keep the worst of the venom out of her voice, but really, she was a grown woman, and it was well within her rights to want to just…keep things private for once. Marion sucked in a breath down the line, and Parker knew she was going to let her have it.

  “Not Marion.”

  Kristina.

  Her stomach flopped, and everything in her chest contracted, a hot pang of adrenaline shooting through her, leaving her bolt upright in bed.

  “What the fuck were you doing with Brenna Carl?” The question was a hiss, and the hope that had sprung into her chest, hot and traitorous, twisted.

  “I’m sorry, but how is that your business?”

  There was a terse silence down the line, and then a soft rhythmic click that sounded like…

  “Are you driving?”

  She shouldn’t care. Kristina huffed out a breath, and Parker heard the roar of the engine as she gunned it harder. Parker sprung out of bed without thinking and studied herself in the bathroom mirror, only static and the sound of the car over the line. Surely Kristina wasn’t coming here… Even as she fixed her hair, she told herself it was stupid to expect it.

  “You’re always my business, Parker.”

  The words were soft and lightly slurred, and any thoughts of how she looked were forgotten.

  “Krissie, have you been drinking?”

  “Are you still seeing Brenna?”

  Sitting on the edge of the tub, her feet cold against the tile in her bathroom, Parker tried to calm the worry gripping her. Kristina had no right to ask her anything, but the thought of her drinking and driving…

  “No, it was a one-time thing. It didn’t work out.”

  A stream of curses, half-recognizable, the rest she assumed were Spanish, spilled down the phone.

  “Did she…respect your limits?”

  She was speaking just a fraction too slow, her voice too rough, the words not quite cadenced right.

  “Kristina, nothing happened between us. Have you been drinking? Are you driving? Answer me, please.”

  “Nothing happened.” She laughed, and it was cold, bitter. “If nothing happened, then tell me why the fuck you were in your underwear in her living room yesterday?”

  The words were punctuated with the slam of a car door, and despite herself Parker rushed from the bathroom to her bedroom window, breathless with hope and relief that turned to dust when the street outside was dark, her driveway was still empty.

  “How do you know what I was doing yesterday?” She trusted Kristina, still, implicitly, always, but the skin on the back of her neck prickled with discomfort.

  “Because that cunt is posting all over Facebook about her new submissive and she has cameras in her fucking house, Parker.”

  Her chest constricted.

  “My job…”

  She choked the words out, already imagining the dean, her students, her brother seeing those images… She was shaking as she sunk down to the carpet.

  A crash came down the line followed by another stream of expletives.

  “Relax, I took…fuck…I took care of it. She only posted in the Pandora Doms Facebook group, and it’s already been removed. She’ll be blacklisted by the agency by morning, and it won’t go any further.”

  How had she been so stupid, so reckless? She had waltzed into that situation so carelessly, so easily, expecting it all to be just like Kristina, or hoping for it. She could have lost her career, her dignity…

  “Parker…” Kristina’s voice was soft, and Parker swiped roughly at the tears spilling down her cheeks. Nothing was like Kristina, and sitting on the floor with fear and relief and a million emotions pouring through her chest, she let herself close her eyes and listen to the soft sound of her breath, let herself enjoy this, before morning came and again, Kristina would be gone.

  “Sweetheart, it’s taken care of. You’re going to be fine, I fixed it, you’re fine…”

  She was half talking to her, and half to herself. Kristina was drunk, there was no denying it, and Parker was torn between anger that she had driven and resentment and aching, burning, maddening longing for her.

  “Why would you do that? What do you care?” Her voice was as wet as her cheeks. She told herself it didn’t matter. Kristina wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning anyway.

  “You know why.” The answer was dark, and it was all she offered before she fired back a question of her own. “Are you looking for a new Domme?”

  Parker sucked in a breath, pressing her fingers to her eyes.

  “I don’t know, Krissie.”

  She was tired, and the pieces of her that had been so tangled up with Kristina, the ones she had scrubbed raw over the past six weeks trying to remove her, ached and burned and bled anew.

  “Sweetheart…” It was soft and sad, an endearment and a plea, and finally, it broke her.

  “Don’t. Just don’t, Kristina. You either want me or you don’t.” She swallowed hard. “I appreciate you getting the picture taken down, but you… You didn’t want me.” She choked down a sob, feeling pathetic.

  “I always wanted you.” The reply was fierce, and Parker’s own anger, her hackles, rose in response. Her chest expanded and her wings opened, and she dared to demand it, to ask for it, to lay it out even in the face of the rejection she knew would come.

  “Then come and fucking get me.”

  Silence hung down the line.

  “Exactly.” Exactly. Nothing had changed. Kristina was still the same complicated, enigmatic treasure she had fallen in love with, and she was still too scared to acknowledge her feelings.

  Parker almost hung up the phone, but something stopped her.

  “Were you drinking and driving?”

  “What do you care?” She grit her teeth as her own words were parroted back to her, sullen.

  Parker heard the pop of a cork, and the trill of liquid against glass.

  “Kristina, are you still drinking? You’re wasted!” She hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous.

  “Yes, Mistress, I am. Are you going to come over here and spank me for it?” The words were all sarcasm and disdain, childish in a way Parker had never heard her. This was descending, spilling into something she refused to let be her last memory of her.

  “Please take care of yourself, honey.” She hadn’t meant to let the endearment slip out, but it was too late, and panicking, she rushed on. “Good night, Krissie.”

  She ended the call before she could be convinced otherwise.

  A TEXT MESSAGE from Marion flashed across her screen, and pausing packing up her desk, Parker picked it up. A picture of the nursery greeted her, painted a pastel purple and sea-foamy green, all the furniture in place. A week had passed since the phone call, and Marion had been her lifeline, listening to her cry th
e next morning about Brenna, the photo, Kristina, all of it. LiLing was a saint. Parker had painted those walls along with them, wedged between them, torn between feeling grateful and guilty. She was never an intruder, not with them, but part of her knew she didn’t belong there either. It was their moment, and she was just an eternal added extra.

  She typed back a quick message about how amazing it looked and turned down the invitation for dinner that had followed. Marion was seven months pregnant and glowing, if grumbling some too. This time was theirs, and she had to start standing on her own feet again.

  She shoved her phone into her jacket pocket and packed the last of her papers into her briefcase, trying hard not to think about Kristina—what she was doing, who she was with, if the drinking was a one-time thing.

  A foot scuffed in the doorway to her office, and that same stupid, hapless hope shot her in the gut, and when she looked up to greet the dean’s eyes, it died a death just as painful as it always was.

  “Professor Freeman.”

  She smiled, shouldering her bag and meeting him halfway into the room.

  “What can I help you with?”

  He adjusted the stack of books under his arm and motioned out to the corridor. She walked with him, heading back toward the entrance of the building.

  “I just wanted to let you know the new library wing looks to be ready to open within a month.”

  Her reply came a second too late. It took her just a little too long to wade past the thoughts, the memories of the benefit, of her.

  “That’s… That was certainly fast. I can’t wait to see it.”

  She offered him a beaming smile, forcing herself to live in the present.

  “Yes. How is your partner doing?”

  Her blood turned to ice, her words frozen in her throat, choking her. He didn’t seem to notice that she’d fallen out of step with him for just a moment, too caught up in the excitement of the development.

  “I’d really come to ask if you’d consider cutting the ribbon on the new wing?”

  It was too much too fast, and she managed to squeeze out a little laugh she hoped sounded surprised and flattered.

  “Miss Diaz made a very large donation, and you’ve made a wonderful contribution to the English faculty over the years. I think it would be very fitting to have you as a part of the ceremony.” He finally looked at her, and her eyes must have bugged wide, as immediately his free hand was on her arm, reassuring.

  “It will be small, just a few of the board, maybe some pictures for the school publication and website, very informal.”

  She swallowed and nodded, smiling woodenly as her heart sank. He must have sensed her hesitance.

  “Think about it and let me know?”

  She agreed she would, stumbling through the politest goodbye she could manage before she rushed for her car.

  Finally alone, she let her head rest against the wheel, spinning.

  I always wanted you.

  She sat back and yanked out her phone. Her finger hovered over Kristina’s contact.

  I could call her. Somehow she knew Kristina wouldn’t deny her. If she asked to start over, to remake their arrangement, to stop asking her for more, she’d do it. Even if it was a promise they both knew they couldn’t keep. It would be that easy. She could be at her house in half an hour, her fingers tangled in Kristina’s dark hair, her body pressed so impossibly close against her… And none of it would last.

  Maybe she could go back, reset the cycle, but while they both wanted different things, it would be doomed to end the same way. It might prolong some of the hurt but not prevent it, and it wasn’t fair to either of them.

  Blowing out a breath, she locked her cell and watched the screen go dark.

  It was time to move on.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THREE WEEKS LATER she cut the ribbon. She stood beside the dean and smiled while the cameras flashed, wearing a flattering dress, a hair shorter, the slit a little higher than the old Parker would have dared. Kristina was gone, but not forgotten. She echoed in everything, but Parker was learning to feel her presence as a gift and to stop aching over her loss. Life was good. She ran, she still loved her job, Marion’s baby was due in just over a month, and she’d been on a slew of first dates that never became more, but she enjoyed them all the same.

  Someone shook her hand, and the congratulations on the new library wing didn’t feel bought. Kristina had written a check, and maybe that was part of the motivation for her presence at the ceremony, but more than that, she had invested her time here, her passion. She had earned this.

  The dean caught her eye and waved her over, probably to meet some other important figure now the formal part of the ceremony was done. She shook hands and smiled genuinely, conscious of the way the man’s eyes lingered on her appreciatively. A soft blush colored her cheeks when her phone rang, and seeing Marion’s name on the screen, she excused herself.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Her companions must have heard the pitchy anxiety in the words, because they fell away immediately, giving her privacy.

  “Yes… Well, sort of…”

  Her anxiety roared.

  “Are you having the baby?”

  “What…? No, no, not that.”

  She had barely breathed a sigh of relief before the next fear floated forth. “Is everything okay with the baby, though, and Roland and—”

  “Parker. Stop. I’m just going to say it, okay?”

  Her heart plummeted, and the seconds Marion drew in a breath felt like an entire day, a whole week.

  “Kristina’s in the hospital.”

  Kristina… Marion was calling her, from pathology…

  “Is she…” She stumbled to the side of the room and slipped behind one of the new stacks and out of sight. She tried again.

  “Is she… Marion…” It was a whimper, tears already in her eyes.

  “No! Oh God, sweetie, no, no, she’s not with me. She’s alive. It was Emily who came to tell me. She came through the ER. She’s in neurology now. I don’t know what happened or how long ago she was admitted…”

  Her heart beat frenetic, her body hummed with energy, starting deep in her chest and burning its way out. It all rushed back and through her, the phone call, the drinking, a million possibilities, and the thought of Kristina, Kristina, Kristina in the emergency room.

  “Parker.” Marion brought her back to the present. “I just thought you’d want to know. I can try to find out—”

  “No.” She cut her off, certain now, already walking, rushing, running as soon as she hit the corridor. “I’m coming.”

  THE HOSPITAL HAD always made her feel sick, stifled. Before, it was the place where it happened, where her wife betrayed her and everyone knew. Then, it was Amanda’s turf, a place where Parker was no longer welcome, a place where she didn’t want to be anyway, not when she was the last to know and they all knew that. None of it mattered as she skidded through the double doors, bypassing the front desk and sliding into the elevator with a group of nurses she thankfully didn’t recognize.

  The floors ticked by too slowly, too many people entering and exiting, and her foot tapped, louder, louder until the woman beside her eyed it pointedly. Yet she couldn’t make it still. Kristina in the emergency room, Kristina in neurology. Her brain screamed “Kristina” over and over, a million different scenarios, a constant reel of a million moments with her passed. The elevator jerked to a halt on her floor, and she was out, squeezing through the metal doors before they were fully open.

  “I’m here to see Kristina Diaz.”

  She was breathless with the declaration as she forced herself to stop at the front desk. The woman looked up from her computer, slow, lazy in the face of what felt like her own body moving in hyperspeed.

  “Miss Diaz isn’t accepting visitors.”

  Parker grit her teeth, taking a breath and blowing it out rather than letting all her fear, her frustration, spill out on this woman who was just doing her
job.

  “I need to see her, please.” She plastered on her best diplomatic smile. “It’s important.”

  “I understand.” It was clear from her tone that she didn’t understand at all. “But Miss Diaz is not—”

  “I need to speak to your department head, now.” Parker let her tone cool, clipped and entitled, matching the one she had seen Amanda use so many times, the one that always got her what she wanted, because she fuck it, she didn’t want to see Kristina; she needed to.

  The woman sucked in a breath, nodding. “Take a seat, ma’am. I’ll see if she’s available.” She got up and left the desk, but Parker stayed. Her skin prickled, her fingers felt numb, and Kristina was here, somewhere, in one of these side rooms, in some state of hurt… She heard talking from the door behind the nurses’ station, and they were going to deny her, she knew already. Visiting was heavily restricted on a lot of the wards, save for immediate family and…

  An idea sprung up and she dug through her purse. She opened her wallet and ignored the churning in her guts at the sight of her old wedding rings inside. She had planned to finally take them to be valued sometime this week, in the spirit of moving on… Moving on. God, that felt so long ago now, so alien when Kristina was hurt.

  The cold metal of the engagement band felt foreign yet achingly familiar. Trying to ignore the weight of it, she fumbled her wallet closed, and shouldered her purse just in time to look up and greet the tired eyes of the department head.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the patient you’re inquiring about—”

  “I need to see my fiancée, now.” She spat the words, impatient. “Can someone please show me the way, or do I need to call my lawyer?”

  A beat passed between the two women in front of her, and Parker saw their uncertainty in it.

  “Let me go and check…” She followed the nurse’s line of sight down the hall, and of course. She was off, moving fast, heels clicking against the smooth tile floor before they had time to go on. All the floors were more or less the same, and she remembered from the few times she’d visited with Amanda, years ago when she was still shiny enough and new enough and important enough to be included in her life here, that they all had private rooms at the very end of the corridor.