Healing the Wounds

by M. Q. Barber

  Guilt and regret crippled as effectively as fear. Dozens of times she’d heard Henry say he wanted them healthy and happy. When he’d met Jay, Jay had been neither. Henry would’ve been a boy who’d driven his parents to distraction caring for wounded creatures.

  Jay took a cautious step and pushed the door wide. He stood in the door frame.

  Henry reached past their shoulders for the light switch. Spotlights illuminated the room’s centerpiece, an X-shaped piece of equipment fastened to the far wall.

  Stepping into the room, Jay flinched. And then he laughed.

  “Nothing to be scared of here. It’s only wood and metal and padding.” His forced chuckles grated at her nerves. “Silly to get all worked up over it. I’m glad, I’m glad we, uh, visited”—he tugged at his sleeves, hiding his wrists—“to get that cleared up. We can go home now. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Hell no. No fucking way Henry bought his bravado either. Pushing away the pain because it hurt to feel it.

  “Jay. My brave boy.” Henry’s shoes tapped against the wood floor. He stopped beside Jay, the two of them facing the illuminated frame. Metal rings stood out at the corners and various points along the X. Attachment points. “No one but Alice and me will ever know what happens here.”

  The first night Henry had tied her down, he’d chosen soft cuffs and shown her how to escape. Anyone tied to this frame would be splayed like da Vinci’s Vitruvian man, vulnerable and exposed. Doubtful Cal cared whether restraints chafed. He probably preferred they did.

  “Do you still wish to hide from this? To feel it controlling you when you want to let go?” Henry lowered his voice. “Will you give this moment that power and deny it to me, dear one?”

  “No!” Jay’s fierce headshake scattered his hair and twisted his torso. “I want to be yours, Henry. Just yours.”

  “Then you must reconcile with the past, Jay. Feel the truth of it. Accept your own blamelessness.” Henry tipped his chin, a brief glance at the floor. Would he ever accept his blamelessness? “You called out your safeword and were ignored.”

  Jay moved forward. His shoulders shifted with every breath, his exhalations audible in the silence. He stopped less than a foot from the frame. His leg twitched. His hand clenched.

  He stood, back rigid, unmoving, for long minutes.

  Henry turned toward her. Expecting he’d shoo her away to give Jay privacy, she took a half step back.

  He thrust out his palm in a curt stop gesture.

  She froze, waiting.

  He beckoned her to him. The soft soles of her sneakers barely made a sound.

  Jay never twitched.

  Henry’s gaze shifted between the two of them. He pressed his mouth to her ear.

  “He needs a push.” He whispered so low she strained to hear him even at this distance. “A painful one.”

  Understanding ached. He’d seen her react badly before, misread his intentions, try to defend Jay against harshness when Henry had a purpose for it. Her challenges had made Jay’s wait for comfort longer.

  “I trust you.” She breathed out the words.

  Henry kissed her temple and rubbed her back. Stepping forward, leaving her behind, he took a slow, deep breath.

  “Step away.” Henry had a new tone. Anger. Disgust.

  Jay’s head came up.

  Henry clenched his jaw. “It’s an interesting technique you have, but I think you’ve outstripped your skills.” Now his words came light as an observation on the weather. “And it seems your sub has had enough for the night.”

  Jay trembled, a full-body motion. Henry wasn’t speaking to him.

  She curled her hands into a single tight fist, fingernails pressing deep into her skin. Henry had walked a fine line that night, if she’d understood properly. Said he’d nearly had to apologize to Cal for interrupting the scene. Even if he’d sized up the trouble in an instant and burned to free Jay.

  “Perhaps you ought to release him. Pause to check his status? These things are so easily overlooked in the heat of the moment, aren’t they?” Henry’s friendly, cajoling tone didn’t match the snarl twisting his lips. Eyes hard and glaring, he wrinkled his nose as if the air offended him.

  An expression he’d likely had to hide from Cal at the time. His pauses might represent Cal’s side of the conversation, if he heard the voice in his head.

  Head cocked, Jay stood almost still. All but the shudders that rolled down his shoulders and twitched in his fingers and wobbled in his legs.

  “Boy!” Henry’s voice gained volume and command. “What are you called here?”

  Ten seconds. Long enough for Cal to have answered for Jay, she knew not what.

  Jay’s howl rattled her bones. He attacked the padded frame with fists and feet.

  “Not yours. Not your slave. Not your slut. Not your bitch.” His voice cracked. He fell to his knees in an ungainly heap of limbs, a rare lack of grace, and pounded the frame with animal ferocity. “You’re not my master, you fucking horrible piece of shit. You never were. You lied to me. You told me I was safe. You wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t—”

  Her entire body strained to go to him.

  Gaze fixed on Jay, Henry waved toward her. Wait.

  They stood in silence as Jay exhausted himself, until he stopped beating at the frame, until his voice grew hoarse and his anger turned to sobs. Only then did Henry speak.

  “Jay. My sweet, playful boy. You’ve a soul bright like sunshine, dear one. Clear and shining in your every smile. You give so much of yourself. Do you understand now, my brave boy? Will you tell me what you deserve?”

  “I don’t—” His voice shook. He coughed, and tears fell unchecked down his face. “I don’t deserve what C-Cal did to me. I didn’t deserve it then, and I, I don’t deserve it now.”

  “Beautiful, my boy. An excellent answer, entirely true. Do you know what you do deserve?”

  Head hanging down, Jay swayed slowly. No.

  Henry sank to his knees in front of Jay and smoothed back his hair. “Love, my boy. My love. Alice’s love. Unending, no matter what demons must be confronted.”

  Jay sobbed, his slender body heaving.

  “Will you let me hold you, my dear boy? You aren’t alone in this. You’re never alone.”

  Jay tumbled forward, babbling, curling his body half-fetal in Henry’s lap.

  Relief raced through her. With Henry’s leadership and her support, Jay would move past this. He’d know he was safe and loved and that he deserved to be.

  Henry beckoned her forward even as he answered Jay’s incoherent speech. “No, my brave boy, it hasn’t tainted you. There’s nothing dark and dangerous in you, my love. You’re still my Jay.”

  She settled beside them in silence, trusting Henry to lead.

  He kept up the steady, slow petting down Jay’s head and back. “Nothing you could tell me would change that, Jay.”

  Hunched and hidden, tucked in tight against Henry, Jay sniffled. His shuddering set off little waves in his thin shirt, currents Henry smoothed with each pass of his hand.

  The desire to scoop up their boy and take him out of here, to end the pain in his face and the full-body sobs, pulled at her with unbearable urgency.

  Henry fumbled for her hand and squeezed. Seeing Jay this way hurt him, too, even if he wouldn’t show it. Couldn’t show it and remain the strong, powerful man Jay needed him to be in this place.

  But this moment belonged to Jay, not them, and he hadn’t purged everything he associated with this room. With that man. The same need she encountered when Henry unlocked emotional doors for her. Once the path opened, the landslide came through in an uncontrollable rush.

  Squeezing Henry’s hand to draw his attention, she lifted her other hand toward Jay and waited. She wouldn’t normally need permission, but right now, on delicate, unfamiliar ground, checking couldn’t hurt.

  Henry’s small nod and return squeeze fueled nerves and hope.

  She touched Jay’s shoulder. Li
ght. Cautious.

  “It’s scary.” She swallowed. Every word needed to be perfect. No room for error, not with her sweet, sensitive lover. “It’s hard to know, isn’t it? When you feel like, like something’s wrong with you.”

  Jay’s breathing slowed.

  “Like if you say it, it’ll be true.”

  The trembling subsided, but Jay didn’t emerge from hiding. His tiny, jerking nod stopped almost before it started.

  She paused to gauge Henry’s reaction. Pushing might help, but it might harm.

  He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and mouthed, “Keep going.”

  As much as Jay needed Henry’s comfort right now, Henry couldn’t leave. But if Jay felt he couldn’t say whatever it was in front of Henry, Henry would make himself invisible.

  He’d use every tool at his disposal to help Jay. Right now, his best tool was her. Like the night Jay had first told her about Cal, about how pathetic and worthless he’d felt. He’d needed Henry’s comfort to be able to tell the tale, but he’d needed her reassurance. On some level he’d wanted confirmation from an equal, and he would always see Henry as a superior.

  Terrifying, to be the one guiding. Surely Henry didn’t feel this fear. Maybe greater comfort with it defined a dominant. But she found confidence, too, knowing he believed her up to the challenge.

  “Do you know what makes me feel better when I’m scared, Jay?” Like when she’d been terrified Henry would find out she harbored feelings for him. Or tell her he wasn’t in love with her. Or that there’d never be a place for her in this relationship.

  Shaking his head against Henry’s chest, Jay turned in Henry’s lap.

  She slid down until their heads were level.

  “Telling Henry.” She whispered the words, snuggling in close.

  Henry released her hand and embraced her, his strong arms encircling them both.

  “The longer I waited, the more scared I was. The harder it was to tell him. But then I felt so much better. It’s okay to be afraid, Jay.”

  His hand crept forward.

  She tucked it inside her own. “But you know what Henry will say, right?”

  “Be honest,” Jay mumbled. “I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

  Yes. He’d met her halfway. Giddy warmth pumped through her. “You’re Henry’s brave boy. You can do this, sweetheart.”

  “But I”—brown eyes shied away—“I want to hurt him.”

  Cal? Hell, she’d like to fuck him up, too. Henry probably wouldn’t throw a punch no matter the provocation. He’d find another way.

  “Like he, like he hurt me.” Pressing his head to hers, Jay whispered as if he imagined he could be so quiet that Henry wouldn’t hear him. “Like a bully. Henry hates bullies, Alice. I don’t want to be a bully.”

  Henry tightened his arm around her.

  “You think maybe Cal made you like he is.” She squeezed Jay’s fingers. “That he taught you to want to hurt people.”

  Slow and tentative, shoulders flinching and soulful eyes trimmed in red, Jay nodded.

  Christ, what could she say to that? Instinct told her Jay was incapable of bullying. The anger and pain he’d poured into the whipping stand, the way he’d beaten the frame until he almost couldn’t lift his fists, raised fear for Jay, not of him.

  Jay’s anger bore nothing in common with Cal’s sadism. But her argument wouldn’t convince him. His fear wasn’t a rational one.

  “Do you want to hurt Alice, my boy? Right now, at this moment?”

  Pale and gagging, Jay spat, “No!”

  “To hurt me?”

  “No.” Blinking fast, Jay blew out a hard breath. “No, Henry. I love you.”

  Henry had shocked Jay out of his shame-filled stupor. With…an irrational argument?

  “Cal is a bully because he abuses others from a position of power, my dear boy. To be angry with him for what he’s done is justified. You have never sought power of any sort. Never struggled with obedience. Wanting Cal to receive the treatment he doles out isn’t anything like the indiscriminate bullying he practices. He doesn’t love. What you feel for me, for Alice, your instinctive distaste for unwanted violence toward us, Cal has never felt for his partners, nor do I expect he ever will. You are nothing like him, Jay.”

  “You aren’t disappointed in me?”

  Henry cupped Jay’s chin, tipping his face up until their eyes met. “On the contrary. I’m proud of you, my brave boy. Think of everything you’ve confronted here tonight. You will be happier and healthier for it in the long run, able to give yourself to me more freely. And as for Cal—” Eyes narrowing, Henry frowned. His disapproval seemed a structural weight, lowering the ceiling and shrinking the room around them. “We will hurt him, but where it matters most to him. His pride. His reputation. The aura of power he hides within.”

  “Pulling back the curtain,” Alice murmured. “Not so great and powerful now.”

  Henry hummed.

  Jay actually snickered.

  Her heart lifted. Jay’s emotions had traveled all over the map tonight, but a true laugh, even a small one, was a huge improvement over his earlier avoidance and terror.

  “I don’t have to wear the ruby slippers, do I?” Jay sniffled, his voice raw.

  She wished for tissues.

  “I’m more a sneaker kind of guy.”

  “Silver.” Henry dug in his pocket and came up with a handkerchief. Of course. “The shoes are silver in the original. Something to add to our reading list, I expect. Blow your nose, my boy.”

  While Jay made use of the handkerchief, Henry tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her. “Alice, you recall how to find the serving room off the salon?”

  She nodded and rose, seeing the gambit. “Just a drink, or a snack, too?”

  “A drink only, thank you, my dear. Something soothing for Jay’s throat, please.”

  “Will do.”

  She left Jay to Henry’s tender care, following the trail of lights they’d left on behind them, down the stairs to the second floor. She’d take her time. Let them find the closure they needed together. Jay had been the one who’d broken down, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe being in that room with him again hadn’t affected Henry, too. He’d keep that to himself, though.

  The sharp tang of fresh-brewed coffee wafted from the salon. The aroma grew as she crossed to the kitchen and reached for the light switch.

  “There’s more in the pot if you’d like a cup.”

  She bumped her shoulder on the door frame, missing the switch on the first pass. “No, thank you.”

  The lights came up. Emma stood beside a prep counter at the far end of the room.

  An intruder, Alice’s hackles said. It might be her club, but she didn’t belong in their cozy little world of three, not tonight, with Jay so vulnerable.

  “Henry asked me to get some juice.” She kept an eye on Emma as she carried out her task, finding a small bottle of apple juice in the fridge.

  “Is young Jay all right?” Emma waved a dismissal. “No, no, that’s a silly question. Of course he’s not. But—” She cradled her coffee mug as if seeking warmth. “Is he handling it well?”

  Henry had promised Jay no one would know. Whatever happened tonight stayed in the room.

  “He’s with Henry.” A simple truth, and not breaking Henry’s promise. For almost anything involving Jay, Henry was the answer.

  Emma nodded as if she understood that truth, too. “I never felt better than when I was at Victor’s side, no matter the difficulties in our path. I’m certain Henry is equally attentive to Jay’s needs.” Lines appeared around her mouth and eyes as her face tightened. “Would that we’d been able to make things right years ago.”

  The rigid sense of threat in Alice’s spine softened. “I think—”

  Far from trying to insert herself in their relationship, Emma felt some sense of responsibility. Guilt.

  God knew Alice understood that weight. “It was incredibly important for Jay to com
e here and do this.”

  Emma had voted to banish Cal from the club. She’d seen Jay, then, in the aftermath of Cal’s attack.

  “Helpful.”

  And Henry was one of this woman’s closest friends.

  “So thank you.”

  Natural for her to show concern for his subs.

  “For helping.”

  “Important for you, as well.” Emma’s gaze was shrewd. She sipped her coffee. “You’re not one to run and hide, are you, Alice? A poor introduction to this scene can leave lasting scars on a submissive player. I’ve seen it happen too many times. You have a better handle on yourself, I think.”

  Her skin itched. Tiny, dancing tingles beneath the surface like this near stranger had tugged a zipper and peeked inside the polite-company-Alice suit. They weren’t confidantes. They shared a truce shaped by Henry’s love. If he expected them to cede territory to each other, she’d need a map of the boundaries. “I have Henry.”

  Emma nodded. “You do.”

  The juice bottle chilled her hand. Henry and Jay were waiting. She raised the bottle and moved toward the door. She’d been less nervous her first day in the high school cafeteria, for chrissake. Her tongue nearly betrayed her and asked Emma for a hall pass.

  Fuck. She was Henry’s envoy here. He had to have known she might run into Emma.

  The training. Cal. She paused in the door frame. “I’m sure he’ll be in touch with you soon about moving forward on the classes. Tonight’s—” Just for family, she almost said, grateful for the twitch of compassion that stopped her. “Busy.”

  Emma had set aside her plans—or hadn’t had any to change—to be here and open the club for them. A woman Henry protected like a favorite aunt or a younger sister.

  “No, of course. He’s focused. I wouldn’t expect any less.”

  A woman without a family who stood in the dark drinking coffee and feeling guilty for events beyond her control and five years gone.

  “But thank you, Alice, for your kindness.”

  “Sure. I mean, same to you.” She shot through the halls and stairs. Something about that woman made her feel small.