by Shea Balik
Thankfully, Syn was better at controlling his facial expressions because PJ couldn’t help but grin at her. She was just too damn cute.
Syn on the other hand, raised that damn eyebrow and frowned down at her. “But it was homework time and you aren’t supposed to talk then.”
Emma’s eyes got really big. “But Millie asked about the letter and it would have been rude not to answer her.”
PJ had to bite his lip not to burst out laughing.
“It was ruder, young lady, to not listen to Miss Janet when she asked you to be quiet so everyone could work on their homework,” Syn countered.
Emma didn’t miss a beat. “But I was almost done and I didn’t want Millie to have to wonder about the end when she was trying to do her homework. It would have been harder for her to concentrate.”
“Considering you got that letter for not listening to your teacher, I would think you would have realized you need to listen when your teachers tell you to do something.” How Syn was able to carry on this conversation without laughing was completely beyond PJ’s understanding. Blood was starting to pool in PJ’s mouth from biting his cheek as he struggled to keep from bursting out with laughter.
Emma put her hands on her hips. “But that wasn’t my fault either. If Miss Heath would have just let me feed the squirrels none of this would have happened. It’s Miss Heath you should talk to, not me.”
That was it. PJ couldn’t keep it in any longer. If he’d been able to walk, he would have left the room first, but he was stuck on the couch, laughing his ass off.
Then Emma turned to PJ as if he’d lost his mind. “Uncle PJ. This isn’t funny. Miss Heath made me throw away my nuts instead of feeding the squirrels.”
He couldn’t explain it, but that only made things more hilarious. He was having difficulty breathing he was laughing so hard.
When she stomped her foot and said, “Uncle PJ, stop laughing,” PJ had to hold his stomach it hurt so badly.
“I think we should go make dinner until your uncle has managed to get control of himself. Then we’ll talk about your punishment,” Syn told her.
But the mention of being punished only set Emma off on another tangent. “But none of it was my fault,” she insisted. “Why should I be punished for wanting to feed the squirrels?”
She had a point.
“Because you are supposed to listen to your teachers and do as they ask,” Syn told her.
Syn had a point, too.
“That’s not fair.” Emma stomped her foot once more for emphasis. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
PJ managed to sober up when he saw her look of defiance. She was about to have a meltdown and that wasn’t something to laugh at. If anything, Emma’s temper tantrums tended to terrify PJ. She had a way of screaming that he swore was going to break every window in the house. He needed to intervene before that happened.
“Did you explain to Miss Heath what you wanted to do?” PJ asked her.
She gave him a duh look. “Yes. I told her I wanted to go outside and scatter the nuts for the squirrels so I didn’t waste the food.”
That was his sweet little Emma. She was generous to a fault, even insisted on donating her toys to other children she met if they didn’t have much.
“And what did she say?” PJ asked her.
Her hands fisted and a frown appeared on her face. “She said I couldn’t go outside alone, and I would need to throw the nuts in the trash.”
“That makes sense,” Syn said.
But Emma shook her head at him. “There is a door in our classroom that goes outside. I told her, all I had to do was open it and toss the nuts outside, but she still said no. I tried to explain she could watch me, but she still said I needed to throw them away.”
“Which,” Syn said, pulling out the letter. “She said you still argued with her, wasting ten minutes of class time.”
But Emma stood her ground. “If she would have just let me feed the squirrels we wouldn’t have wasted any time. She was the one who was being unresen…unreas…” Emma turned to PJ. “How do I say it?”
“Unreasonable,” he provided. PJ had to curl his lips in to stop himself from laughing again when she gave a nod and turned back to Syn.
“Unreasonable.” With way too much maturity for a five-year-old, Emma said, “So I am not to blame and shouldn’t be the one punished.”
If Syn hadn’t of been there, PJ was positive he would have ended up giving in. Heck, he probably would have confronted the teacher for denying her request to feed the squirrels. But Syn wasn’t so easily swayed. PJ just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Since it was you who continued to argue with your teacher when you are supposed to do as she said, it is your fault. Just as it was your fault for not listening to Miss Janet and being put in time-out.” Syn’s matter-of-fact tone had zero room for compromise, which Emma must have sensed for big, fat tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“I want you to go to your room and think about what we talked about and what you should have done differently,” Syn told her.
As far as Emma was concerned, nothing was worse than being sent to her room. PJ cringed when she dropped down to the floor and screamed at Syn for being unfair. But Syn, God bless him, just picked her up and carried her to her room where he closed the door. Her screams were loud enough to be heard, but at least PJ didn’t feel as if his eardrums were going to explode at any minute.
When Syn came back down the stairs he was smiling. “She is going to be hell on wheels when she gets older.”
PJ wasn’t sure how that was a good thing, but Syn was right. He just hoped he survived it.
Chapter Fifteen
“Will you be coming in this afternoon?” Joel asked hopefully.
PJ didn’t want to admit that he feared what would happen that afternoon. “I’m not sure how long the doctor will take. But I’ll try.” He just prayed his life wouldn’t be turned upside down when the doctor took his cast off.
It had been eight weeks and two casts, but he was finally getting the second removed. He’d have to have a removable cast still, but at least he’d be able to take a real shower. Just the thought of being able to get under the spray of the water had him sighing in pleasure.
The only thing ruining this day was that he had no idea if Syn would be sticking around afterward. Or if he should let him. The more he thought about the consequences of allowing Syn to become more involved in PJ’s life than he already was, the more he realized it might be a good idea to ask him to leave.
Daniel’s attitude hadn’t gotten any better. Both Syn and PJ had tried talking to him, but Daniel refused to listen to them. Nor would he open up about what was bothering him. He knew it was the fear of losing PJ after losing everyone else in his life, but he just didn’t know how to make it better for his little brother.
“Good,” Joel said, bringing PJ out of his depressing thoughts. “Because if I have to spend another day with Devlin, one of us is going to die, and I really don’t think I’ll do well in jail.”
PJ chuckled. Joel might normally be reserved, but when it came to Devlin, the gloves came off, or in this case, boxing gloves were put on. “I’ll do my best. Just make sure to tell the painter I want those touch ups done by this afternoon, or I will be docking him ten percent of his fee for every day he doesn’t complete it.”
Joel nodded over the screen, his eyes downward as he jotted on the pad of paper he’d been making notes. “Got it. The contractors have also finished the penthouse suites. They finished around midnight. I checked them this morning and I have to say they did a great job.”
Syn had originally planned for the top floor to be one home for himself, but for some reason, which PJ refused to take as a good sign, he’d converted them into four penthouse suites. According to Syn, he would give one to Devlin and one to Manuel. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t giving one to Joel, but then again, knowing Syn, he was banking on Devlin and Joel living together.
&nb
sp; “That’s good,” PJ told him. “Make sure to have Devlin and Manuel pick out which suite they want. Tell them I will be there later to discuss paint and floors.”
Joel scrunched up his nose in distaste, but said, “Okay.”
The alarm on his phone went off, telling him it was time to get ready for the doctor. “I’ve got to go, but hopefully I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“I thought you were resting?” Syn said as he came into the bedroom to find PJ tossing his tablet onto the bed after disconnecting with Joel.
“I was, but I needed to go over a few things with Joel.” With far more ease than he had six weeks ago, PJ swung his legs over the side of the bed and transferred into the wheelchair. He didn’t have to use it, as he was getting more proficient with the crutches, but it was still easier to use the chair.
He was hoping with the heavy cast off, he would find the crutches more comfortable. “I don’t suppose we have time for a quick bit to eat?” he asked as his stomach grumbled.
Syn handed him a brown paper bag. PJ grinned when he opened to find an apple, a turkey and cheddar sandwich, and a grape juice box, his favorite. “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” Syn said a bit remotely as he pushed PJ outside to the SUV.
The entire ride was the same. Not that Syn was a chatterbox, but he usually tried to engage PJ in a conversation. The fear that Syn was being distant because he planned on leaving had PJ’s stomach twisting into knots. As hungry as he had been, he found it difficult to swallow more than a couple of bites before he had to put the food away.
“Not hungry?” Syn asked as he parked in the doctor’s parking lot.
“I guess not,” he said, although he might as well have said nothing, since Syn had already jumped from the driver’s seat and slammed his door.
Those knots tangled even tighter until PJ felt like throwing up. Stupidly, he’d gotten his hopes up that Syn might actually stay. Hadn’t he already learned his lesson thirteen years ago? What was worse? PJ had done the unthinkable. He’d fallen back in love with Syn.
Who was he kidding? He’d never stopped loving him.
His door opened and PJ had to force the tears that wanted to fall back. In the blink of an eye he was sitting in his wheelchair and being rolled into the office building.
His whole world narrowed to this moment. He just had to get through the next few hours without showing how heartbroken he was. When Syn left, then PJ could break down, but he refused to show Syn just how weak he was.
When the doctor took off his cast, instead of relief, PJ wanted to beg for him to leave it on just so Syn would stay a little longer. Selfish? Probably. PJ just didn’t care. A part of him wanted to do whatever it took to make him stay. Except, knowing in the end it would only be worse stopped PJ from doing just that.
As they got back into the SUV with new instructions for the removable cast and weight bearing on his still fragile ankle, Syn said, “I need to go to the club. Are you up for it, or do you want me to take you home first?”
PJ would rather go home and cry, but he also needed to get the club finished. It would be easier to get over Syn if he didn’t have to work with him. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Plus I promised Joel I would come in to go over the last few things that need to be done before the opening.”
An event for the gay community was being planned for the following Friday, with another event for the BDSM community on Saturday. The official opening would be the weekend after that. Two more weeks and PJ would never see Syn again.
The pain in his chest nearly had him gasping. Only his refusal to let Syn know how much this hurt, stopped him from making a sound. It would hurt, hell it already did. But PJ knew he had to push through it. He didn’t have a choice. Emma depended on him.
The ride was awkward, even more so than the one to doctor. Two weeks. He just needed to get through two more weeks.
Syn parked in front of the door to the club. This time, instead of his wheelchair, PJ used the crutches. He needed to check out all the floors and with the work crews still inside, the wheelchair would be too hard to maneuver.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to use those?” Syn asked doubtfully.
PJ nodded. He’d been practicing around the house. “Yes, but I’ve asked Joel to have chairs in every room so I can sit when I need to.”
Syn eyed him skeptically, but said, “Okay. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
For a moment that hope he’d been doing his damn best to extinguish flared back to life as Syn gazed at him like PJ was the most important person in the world. If only he could trust that. “I will,” he said, swinging past Syn to the door before he broke down and begged Syn to not leave him.
“And I told you to stop calling me that.” The sound of Joel’s voice reached them as soon as the door opened.
“And I told you that wasn’t going to happen, sugarplum,” Devlin said, not as loud but just as clear.
The two men faced off near the bar where blueprints were spread out over the surface. “Now, you can either write up the contract as I specified, or I’ll be more than happy to put you over my knee, again.”
Joel gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Devlin grinned wickedly. “Oh, we both know I dare, sugarplum. The question is how much do you want to feel my hand heating up your ass again?”
Red flooded Joel’s face as he stared hard at Devlin like he was imagining punching Devlin in the face. Even his hands fisted at his sides, but wisely Joel said nothing more. He just turned to the bar, grabbed some papers that were on top of the blueprints and stormed off to the back where the escalators were.
“I see you two are still getting along,” Syn said to Devlin. “Am I going to need to lock you two in a room, because I have to say I’ve done it before and it works, sort of.”
PJ had no idea what Syn was talking about and he had to admit to not being sure he wanted to. Locking people in a room didn’t sound like a good idea to him. “I’m going to go check on Joel’s progress with the renovations,” he said, following after Joel to the back of the club. Instead of climbing the escalator that still wasn’t working, he used the elevator that was.
On the second floor, a door hidden behind the bar led to a suite of three offices. It was in the smallest one that PJ found Joel punching away at the keyboard as if it had done Joel wrong in some way.
“Careful,” he said as he entered the smaller, yet still spacious office that was as neat as a pin. “Or that keyboard will think you’re the enemy,” he joked.
Joel scowled at him. “I hate men.”
PJ cocked his head to the side. “You do know you are one of those men, right?”
Joel’s scowl deepened. “Not funny. You damn well know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” Only too well. “Do you want me to come back or are you ready to go over things?”
Joel picked up his tablet and got up from his desk. “I’m more than ready not to have to follow his majesty’s orders.” Exiting the suite of offices, Joel led him through the few changes that had been made to the BDSM club. There had just been a few fixtures that had been installed along with a couple pieces of equipment placed in the storage room for the shows.
“Did you have Devlin inspect each piece?” he asked afraid Joel hadn’t because he didn’t want to deal with the man.
Joel’s face instantly went bright red and he averted his eyes. “Yes.” As quickly as he could, Joel led PJ out of the storage room to head up to the third floor.
Clearly Devlin had used Joel to test each piece. PJ kept his smile as discrete as possible, not wanting to piss Joel off any more than he already was.
The third floor held private BDSM rooms that guests could rent, along with a storage room for extra equipment for the club. Many times guests requested brand new toys to play with and Syn’s Playground was more than happy to provide them, for a fee. PJ and he went over the various storage rooms, making sure everything was stored properly in cool, dry rooms with lo
cks.
Most of the private rooms were the same, with a bed, spanking bench, St Andrew’s Cross, and hooks that could be lowered from the ceiling to put a sub in just about every position imaginable. A few of the rooms were more specialized with swings and other unique equipment that wasn’t used as often.
“Looks like floors two and three are complete,” PJ said. “You’ve done a great job, Joel.”
Joel preened as they went up a floor in the elevator. “Thank you. I have to admit, I’ve always been a stickler for details, but until you explained what to look out for, I had no idea just how many details there were to opening a club.”
“It can be daunting at times,” PJ admitted. “But once you get the hang of it, and have lists to keep track of things, it becomes second nature.”
The elevator dinged at the fourth floor and they exited. “I don’t suppose there’s somewhere I could sit for a few minutes?” PJ asked getting tired of using the crutches. He wasn’t used to standing this much.
“Every room has a couch and chairs to relax,” Joel said as he opened the door to the first room.
PJ gratefully sank onto one of the two chairs that faced the couch. The fourth floor was made up of guest rooms for those who wanted to stay. The rates were very reasonable and the rooms spacious.
Each room had a king bed, couch, two chairs, a coffee table, along with a small table and chairs out on the balcony. There was a coffee maker, microwave, and mini-fridge completely stocked with water and several juices. Depending on the room, they were decorated in either blues, greens, browns, or grays.
This one had a gray comforter with black and white geometric shapes. The drapes matched the comforter and the walls were done in a slightly lighter shade of grays, with the carpet several shades darker.
Even as PJ sat there, he eyed each detail critically, making sure nothing had been missed. He had to admit to being pleased he didn’t find a single thing out of place. “If you ever decide to leave Syn, you can have a job with me,” PJ offered, impressed at how good Joel had done with his instructions.
