Bound

by Piper Malone

  Our evening. Kat’s lithe body bending to me. She had no clue, not an inkling about how she gave herself to me so freely. She just did it. Pure beautiful submissiveness and I took every ounce of it.

  “Hey! Blake!” The snapping of fingers and Gwen’s sharp tongue rip me from my memories. “Are you going to give us the dirty stuff, or do I need to use the fire station’s Wi-Fi for unsaintly activities?”

  “No, don’t get yourself written up for that…again!”

  “It was one fucking time!” Gwen yells, throwing a fistful of popcorn at Baron, now in hysterics. Her second attack is off target by a long shot but I’m able to catch a kernel in my mouth.

  “Okay, calm down. I’ll tell you about her.” I add the final pinch of red pepper to the chili and set it to simmer before sitting down at the small table. Gwen quickly grabs a seat next to Baron and settles in. I don’t talk about the women I’ve been with at work; it’s usually nothing long term or truly worth mentioning. I scene with them, provide a service, or on the off chance I meet someone outside of Reign, I keep the information to a minimum. It’s a mix of self-preservation and professionalism. I’m not sure how some would feel about my kink. I know some wouldn’t understand. Truly, it’s none of their business but I know how people can be. Judgments don’t have to be verbalized to make a statement.

  But Kat is different. “I don’t know where to start. She possesses a spark that other women I’ve met seem to be missing. Her style is unique. The way she carries herself is brassy, ballsy, and yet undeniably feminine. She’s the perfect mix of rugby and ballet. Kat will knock you on your ass in a ball gown, and you’ll be glad she did.”

  “Holy fuck…” Baron grumbles. “I can see in your goofy face that you love this chick already.”

  His statement quiets the room; the deep bubbling of the chili on the stove is the only sound for more than a minute.

  “Unless you don’t?” he offers into the silence.

  Do I? My pursuit of her has been relentless, I feel like we belong together. I felt it when we drove to Walter Reed and then later when we found that janitor’s closet. I’ve seen her passion and her grace, her temper and her wicked sense of humor. She’s a game changer. But she’s also a fighter. I have to prepare myself for a battle that might end us if she continues to push against what she thinks I am.

  “I’m looking forward to spending more time with her.” I can’t lay my heart on the line when there is no guarantee she won’t get skittish and run whenever she concocts something in her mind.

  “I hope she’s good to you, Blake.” Gwen pats my shoulder and gives me a knowing smile. “She’ll be missing out on a great guy if she isn’t.”

  “Thanks.” Part of me wants to ask her to relay that fact to Kat but it’s useless to bring up something that will only take time to develop. Trust.

  I know it will be hard for her. I just hope it doesn’t take forever.

  “If she doesn’t want to marry you, I’ll put a ring on it,” Baron huffs, as he lifts his big body from the small folding chair.

  “Baron, your wife would be pissed and I don’t catch.”

  His evil smile is framed by his salt-and-pepper mustache and goatee. “You would for me, Blake.” He requests a text when the chili is finished and exits the kitchen.

  Baron’s statement floors the unflappable Gwen, stalling her normally quick wit. “That was TMI to the highest degree.” Her nose wrinkles, body shivering from the visual Baron created. “I need to take a shower.”

  I dumped my guts to my two closest work buddies and now they are gone. Just as well, they couldn’t offer anything that hasn’t already crossed my mind.

  Alone in the kitchen, I get a full view of the dining area. The history, the legacy of the station displayed for everyone to see. Those of us who responded to 9-11, Katrina, the marathon bombings. Those who have championed over the odds and those we have lost.

  My vision settles on David’s picture and my chest tightens. His family moved to our neighborhood from Florida the summer before fifth grade. We’d been inseparable ever since the moving van was in their driveway. He saved me from my sisters. I rescued him from the guys in class who thought his clothing was a little too flashy. That guy loved brightly colored polos. He also loved an adventure.

  We hiked, kayaked, camped. He called me out for never eating sushi and I taught him how to dance the panties off a woman.

  David was the brother I never had but always wanted. He was loyal and honest. I admired his resolve to tackle tough challenges, until that unwavering sense of bravery took him from me.

  The building was unsafe. We all knew it. Three people were inside to sweep the rooms because there was a report that one person was still missing. Baron, David, and I took to the task.

  The house was almost cleared when the ceiling started to cave in. The command came to exit. I knew Baron was leading us. I thought David was behind me.

  When we emerged from the engulfed building, the frenzy broke loose. We were short a man. The team tried to extinguish the fire with every ounce of water we had. It was no use.

  They wouldn’t let me go back in for him. It was a “lost cause” and they were “sorry.” That fire raged with my best friend inside for hours.

  The black sash that hung over our doorway for a week draped itself over my mind for years. The grandmother that was reported in the house had taken an impromptu trip that day. She wasn’t even home when the fire started. It had been for nothing.

  I wasn’t cautious enough. I didn’t pay close attention. I didn’t control for the possibility that he wouldn’t follow my lead. I should have made sure he was next to me.

  A hearty gurgle from the stove brings me back to tiny kitchen. I stifle the emotion stabbing the backs of my eyes, shoving the pain back into the tidy box where it resides.

  I did what I could. I can’t hold myself responsible for his choices. David took a chance and paid the ultimate price. But I still feel the sting of the loss and wonder if I should have done something different that night.

  I shake off the deep hurt and make my way to the stove to stir the bubbling concoction. His memory is one that is always with me. The pain has changed over time but it flared when Caleb was missing after his mission in D.C. It was a horrible set of days. Seeing Caleb on the ventilator, holding my breath when he was sick, praying he would pull through.

  The only good thing during that epic shit-fest was Kat. Even when she was barking at me to keep my distance, she was a bright spot. My glimpse of paradise.

  I’ve lost a lot. I gained even more. I know she’ll resist and fight.

  I refuse to let her go.

  Chapter 7

  Kat

  We were chased out of the hotel by housekeeping and didn’t have the opportunity to talk about what was next. All I know is Blake had to get ready for a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse that night and I needed to talk to Dane.

  The conversation wasn’t as awful as I anticipated. The whole thing was mature and weirdly amicable. He wasn’t shocked when I told him I couldn’t see him anymore. We talked about the few dates we had before Dane openly admitted that the freedom to see other people was a good idea. I was a little nervous when he paused, looking at me over the rim of his coffee mug. I thought it was my opportunity to tell him about Blake, but he had other intentions.

  In the weeks prior to the wedding, when I was overrun with maid-of-honor duties, he met Penelope. She works at the local library. They started talking after a book club gathering and have been seeing each other regularly. He seems genuinely smitten and she sounds like a lovely young woman.

  I told him about Blake and, not surprising, he was happy for me. He could see my frustration at the wedding and knew something was up. When we ended our talk, Dane thanked me for our time together. Never in all my years of dating have I been thanked for dinners and activities that were one step away from mini-golf and ice cream. He said it and I didn’t know what to say. Is that a compliment? Did he really e
njoy our time together?

  I know Dane was intended to be a distraction for Blake. I don’t know that banging gongs can ever be ignored. The truth is Dane could never overshadow Blake. Dane is a wonderful man who, I’m sure, will be an adoring and loving husband one day, just not to me. I left Dane with an odd sense of peace. We hugged and walked away from each other, toward our new significant others. I have never gone into a wedding with a plus-one and walked out with a boyfriend.

  No, not a boyfriend. A lover.

  The thoughts that swirl around the fears that I am reliving all the issues I’ve been trying to avoid can’t be remedied by a quick text to Reagan. I have to settle for the next best thing, my babushka.

  Lunch with Babu has never looked like a typical meal between grandmother and granddaughter. She tells me how much Liam Neeson turns her on. At eighty-three, I’m not about to go there or tell her she’s off her rocker. He’s hot and I’m in no position to tell anyone they shouldn’t ogle a sexy man.

  When we immigrated, I had the luxury of spending long days with her when my parents were working and in school. Together, we learned English, the streets of our new homeland, and the joy of French fries dipped in a Wendy’s Frosty. We have a deep bond I can’t explain. I could rob a bank and she’d bail me out. She’s the only adult in my life whose love I have never questioned. I know she cares about me and loves me for who I am.

  Around Babu’s kitchen table, the warmth of her home comforts me. No matter how down or out I feel, time here is always the cure. The air is infused with her cooking; the decor mimics the home she had in Russia. Babu brought Russia with her when we moved. I’m so happy I have fond memories of our homeland, all of which have been perpetuated by the woman making enough food to feed an army.

  “Was the wedding nice?” Babu calls from the kitchen, her heavy accent bending the words.

  “Yes,” I mumble through a mouthful of food, “it was a beautiful day. Reagan was very happy with everything.” Thank goodness wedding prep is over. I don’t have to worry about fitting into a dress and I came well equipped for this meal with yoga pants. I’m not going to tell her that I haven’t really eaten since the wedding. I was so nervous about talking to Dane that my diet consisted of mocha lattes and peppermints.

  “They are gone now?” She grunts as she plops into her chair with another dish in hand. “Traveling?”

  “Yup,” I reply, while picking at the mass of potatoes on my plate. “They are on a four-week cruise around Europe.”

  “Oh, very good,” she responds, pouring tea into a dainty porcelain cup. “And, your date? Did you have a nice time?”

  Babu is the quintessential snake in the garden. Her appearance is innocent, brows lifting with curiosity, but the act is deadly. She’s trying to hide her mischievous smirk behind her cup. She’s met Dane. Babu knows the score.

  “He left me at the reception.”

  “Oh?” The response is an odd mix of feigned disappointment and restrained excitement. “You did not follow?”

  “No, I had to stay with Reagan. That’s the duty of the maid of honor, to go down with the captain of the ship.”

  “And was that man there?” she asks, pretending to be more interested in filling take-home containers for me than with my answer.

  “Which one?” I’ll play the game.

  “The one you met before,” she says firmly. “Caleb’s friend who took you for the ride.”

  Oh, Babu. If you only knew the ride I’ve been on.

  “He was there.”

  She lays down a serving spoon with dignified frustration. “What is his name, Katya?” Her tone signals she’s done with the games. “Why are you avoiding me?”

  “I’m not avoiding,” I whine, before giving in to the inevitable. “His name is Blake.”

  “Did you spend time with him?” she pries.

  “We shared a dance,” I whisper, more to my plate than to her.

  “And there is no more Dane?” Her knowing statement says it all. Babu knew we weren’t good together.

  “We agreed that seeing other people is best.” I pause, thinking about the conversation again. “He knows about Blake. He’s been seeing a woman who seems really great for him.”

  “Good.” She pats the table before using the furniture to support her as she stands. “Will you take me to the store after you finish? I used all my food to feed you.”

  “What?” The conversation veering off the tracks causes my head to snap up. “That’s it? That’s all you want to know?” I thought I’d get the third degree.

  “How a man dances with a woman speaks volumes, Katya. He danced well enough to make you forget about another man. You are not easily swayed. If he turned your head so quickly, I know he must be special.”

  Her words spark images in my mind. The movement of our bodies to the song, the playfulness in the hotel room, the conversation on the way to Walter Reed when Caleb was hospitalized, the sensation of his skin against mine. The feelings of rightness surface and battle with the goal I’ve set for myself. I need to align the stars, not play the field. I don’t know if Blake is that guy. If he’s not, should I waste our time?

  “He’s a nice man, Babu, but…”

  “But, what?” she demands. “Does he work?”

  “Yes, he’s a firefighter for the city.”

  “Is he vegetarian?” she questions, mouth turned down in disgust.

  Good luck surviving this family and not eating meat. “No, Babu.” I wouldn’t bring a guy who only ate plants through her door for all the money in the world.

  “Then, what’s the problem? You date him. See if another man can capture your attention as he did. When that happens, then you tell me.” Her directive is clear. She doesn’t see the problems on the horizon.

  “I don’t know that he wants what I want.”

  She busies herself gathering her purse, coat, and tightening a wispy scarf around her head. “Do they ever, Katya?” She stops her primping to look at me, firm blue eyes holding me in place. “Do you know what you want?”

  Her question jars me. The food in my mouth becomes difficult to chew. It’s a question I’ve battled over the past few days. What do I want?

  “I don’t know.” I whisper.

  “Katya, listen to me.” She lowers her aging body into the chair next to mine. “You are brave and smart. You know the difference between a good man and a bad man, yes?”

  Her intense gaze sends a painful chill down my back. “Yes, I know the difference.” I don’t think I could ever forget.

  “Good,” her smile pulls the papery skin around her mouth taut, the mischief in her eyes sparkling, “I know that you question yourself, but you’ve always been a force for good. You know the difference between right and wrong. We feel it in our hearts. If this Blake caught your eye so quickly, there is a reason.”

  Her words, her faith in me, makes my chest hurt. I swallow down the lump in my throat so the truth can finally be free. “I’m worried that Reagan and I won’t be as close because she’s married now. I know she wants to have kids…” I trail off, the anxiety about losing my best friend to motherhood, the one female role that scares the shit out of me, makes me feel immature. I kept quiet during the wedding planning, determined to make sure that her day would be magical. We’ve been so close for so long. The idea that I might have a life where Reagan slowly fades down a path I can’t comprehend makes me want to cry. I cannot imagine life without her.

  “Friendship is not always rooted in the roles of life, Katya. You and Reagan have been friends for many years. Sometimes relationships change but you will always love each other. You do not get married to be like your friends. You do not have babies to keep friendships alive.”

  At twenty-nine, I think it’s funny that Babu is giving me a birds-and-bees lecture. “Yes, Babu, I know.”

  “Good.” She pats my hand, groaning as she gets up. “We will go to the store. You will help me shop. You will bring Blake over for dinner.” She hobbles around to loo
k at me in response to the gasp following her last request. “Yes?”

  It’s a question, but there is only one answer.

  “Yes.”

  *

  Later that night, while enjoying a glass of merlot and a trashy gossip magazine, trying to forget about Babu’s decree, I get a text from Blake.

  Are you home?

  I stare at the message, thinking about the day and the conversation with my grandmother. I pride myself on being instinctual, knowing when people are good. When I first met Caleb, I was scared shitless. Once I got to know him, I realized how wrong I had been.

  I was never scared of Blake. Maybe the first time I met him I was a little afraid, but since then, we’ve had a good time. When we spent hours alone and he didn’t touch me, I knew he was a good guy. But would that change over time? I’ve seen guys put on the smile, only to see it morph into the sneer of disgust and disappointment. I lived it for years. I can’t bring that back into my life.

  What if he’s smoke and mirrors until I’m too wrapped up in him to untangle myself? What if he can’t handle a woman who loves her career and is unsure about having children? Another text message lights up my phone, shaking me from the questions that have no answers.

  I see your living room light is on. You said you wouldn’t shut me out.

  My mouth falls open. Stalker! Or maybe I just take too much time contemplating if I should send a text back.

  Once I’m off the couch, I peer out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of him. My second-floor condo looks out onto the grassy area of the complex, the floodlights illuminating the walkways and far corners of the tennis courts make the unlit lawn seem even darker.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I snort a laugh and shake my head, giving into Blake’s playful seduction. Not caring that I’m lounging in cotton short shorts and a tank, I walk down the steps and open the front door.