A Destined Christmas Miracle, page 22
“I try. Have you had some experiences that weren't great with others?”
“Oh yes,” he chuckled, and I shivered. Not good. “Starting with my fucking family.”
Uh-oh. I inhaled before I spoke.
“What about them?”
“They are a bunch of assholes, that's what!” His tone was no longer calm but bitter and filled with rage. “I'm their son, dammit! I should be their number one priority. They should've protected me, cared for me, loved me. But…” He trailed off, and I waited, holding my breath. Come on!
“But what? What happened?” I asked softly.
“This is a safe space, right? You won't tell anyone anything?” His question was whispered.
“I promise not to say a word.” I extended a pinkie and smiled as he took it and shook it.
“I'm… I'm… gay. I'm gay, Stephen.”
I heard the sniffles, and a single puzzle piece fit into place. His parents must have disowned him. He continued. “They didn’t want a gay son. They kicked me out. I had nothing but the clothes on my back, a book, phone, and backpack. I was…” He sobbed, and my heart ached. Holy fuck!
“I’m so sorry,” I reassured him, setting my bowl on the table next to me. I turned toward him and waited for more to come.
“I… was sixteen. I needed my parents, Stephen. My friends knew that I was gay, but I couldn’t stay with them. I couldn’t allow them to take care of me. So… I was… homeless. I slept… outside… under benches. I rummaged through garbage cans or… I had to… do things to get a meal, Stephen.” He hiccupped, and a loud sob escaped from his throat. “I was so alone. So alone. I eventually stopped going to school, but I was smart. I knew my way around a computer, and one day, I stepped inside of a McDonald’s.”
“Did someone help you?” My tone was full of hope.
“Someone did. I was eighteen at the time. This older man, maybe about forty, saw me standing next to a window. We struck up a conversation, and surprisingly, he didn’t shy away from me like everyone else. He… he… bought me a meal, and we talked. Then he asked what I aspired to be when I got older, and… that’s how… I got here.”
He was sobbing again, and I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn't. Not unless he asked for it, but my heart broke for Ryan.
“He helped you get this job?”
“He took me in. He knew that I was gay and took me in. He was transgender, identifying as male but born a female. He knew the struggle because he had lived it much younger than I and for much longer. He went to school for computer science, and he taught me everything that I needed to know. Stephen, he saved my life. I wanted to die, to let people kill me. I hated that I had a family who didn't want me. They don't want me.”
I couldn't take it any longer. I reached out for him, and he barreled into me, his arms wrapping around my neck so tightly I thought he'd strangle me. I rubbed his back and whispered encouraging words into his ear while he sobbed. The boy was holding onto so much pain, so much anger, and all I wanted to do was help him. What could I do?
“I'm sorry.” He sniffled and attempted to pull away from me, but I held him close. “I’ve said too much. You…”
“Ryan, you’re fine, okay? I’m here for you, no matter what you need. Talk, cry, vent, I’m here.” I rubbed his back, and his head fell onto my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and my heart cracked. “Besides Jeffrey, no man has ever been this nice to me. I have a hard time accepting help and compliments. I think being homeless made me tough to the point where I felt like if my family didn’t want me, then no one did. Everyone had an agenda in my book, and I was never like that. Never.”
“If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m glad, though, that Jeffrey saved you and helped you become a better person. Is he still around?”
“Yes, he is.”
I could hear the smile in his voice.
“He helped me get the job at LTF, and he helped me with my first apartment. I owe him my life.”
“I'm glad you've found someone who gives you hope. He sounds like a positive influence in your life.”
“He is.” Ryan righted himself, and I grabbed my mug from the table. “What about you? Are you a positive force of nature for Colin? You've been spending so much time with him. I'm starting to wonder…”
“Colin and I are friends, Ryan. That's all.” That you need to know.
“Whatever you say,” he said as he maneuvered to sit on the couch. “However, I can see it in your eyes. You're in love.”
“No, I am not. I promise you.”
“I've gotten really good at sniffing out liars, and you are barking up the fib tree so hard right now.”
I laughed, almost choking on my food. Fib tree? “Maybe.”
“He seems like a nice guy. Why haven't you made your move yet?” He was eating again, which made me feel better.
“Well, he's been through a lot, and I don't want to push.” I wouldn't divulge Colin's secret. That stayed between us.
“Are you scared you'll hurt him or that he'll hurt you?”
“Honestly,” I took a deep breath. “Both.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Colin
“Stand, Colin.”
My knees ached, and all I wanted to do was collapse onto my bed. However, in a week, I would be attending the Halloween play party at All Access. Stephen had mentioned that training would be time-consuming and tiresome, but what he failed to mention was the emotional toll it would take and the pain my body would endure.
There was no proper way to submit, but according to Stephen, I needed to learn the proper way to show respect. I had been taught how to address other Dominants, subs, and how to act while Sir engaged with other members of the club. However, the kneeling was taxing, both physically and mentally. Shoulders back, palms up on thighs, and legs spread, which I was still getting used to. Stephen wanted me to learn the proper way to present, and at first, I hesitated, but after some encouraging words and reassurance, I consented. I hated it, but he knew my boundaries, and so far, he didn't ask to touch my spread thighs.
“Grab the glass of water and present it to me on your knees,” he commanded.
I reached for the drink with my right hand. I was so tired, but I needed to focus. I held the glass with one hand while I knelt next to the chair. I raised my right hand toward Stephen.
“Your drink, Sir,” I said as I lowered my head. It was protocol, after all.
“Before you collapse,” he started, taking the glass from me, “let me check your posture.”
My God! I loved the feel of Stephen’s hands on my body, within my boundaries, but I just wanted to lie down. His hands roamed down my front, stopping just above my belly button. He trailed them over my bent legs, and skipping over my lower back, he felt my shoulders and neck. I shivered at his soft fingertips, caressing my skin. Why did I enjoy his touch so much? Why did it make me feel… alive?
“Stand, Colin.”
Oh no, not again! I didn't even try to appear graceful as I rose from the floor, and then I heaved a sigh of relief as his arms opened for me.
“Come here, boy.”
My heart melted at the term of endearment, and I fell into his embrace, tears threatening to choke me. My knees were sore as hell, and I had been worrying about my positioning and presentation. I felt like collapsing, and as if he knew, he wrapped an arm around my waist.
“Lean against me, honey. I know.”
His soothing words calmed me, and I stayed quiet as I gathered strength from the arms that held me. We had started training yesterday, and I knew that I had a long way to go. However, Stephen's praise at the end of each session and his warmth gave me hope that I would be able to make him proud next Saturday.
I had also been revisiting our conversation about the wrongs that I planned to make right, and the more I thought, the more nervous I became. What if Caleb doesn't want to hear what I have to say? What if Josaiah…? Don't think about him. You've got Stephen.
“Are you okay? How do you feel?” His voice was near my ear, and I felt my heart thump at his deep baritone.
“Total honesty?” I asked softly.
“That's what we strive for in this dynamic. Yes.”
“I'm sore, exhausted, but… happy. I feel like I have improved since yesterday as far as kneeling, but still.” I sighed and leaned my head against Stephen's shoulder.
“It will take some time. We have this weekend and next week to perfect your positioning. In the meantime, let me massage your knees, and then naptime for you. Thirty minutes, okay? You have a therapy session to attend tomorrow morning.”
How could I forget? It had been nagging at me since last week. Dr. Rogers didn't want to let the subject of my mother go so easily, and I was dreading telling Stephen about it. Would he look at me differently? Would he leave? As I walked into my bedroom with Stephen on my heels, I was determined to go into therapy tomorrow with a positive attitude, no matter what Dr. Rogers threw at me. My mother was a sore subject, but I knew that I needed to go through this in order to heal. I just didn't know how.
N
“So, you and Stephen spent your first weekend together, and things went well? Just well? What are you not telling me, Colin?” Dr. Rogers sat across from me, his hands wrapped around a teacup and his eyes boring into mine. I shifted under his intense gaze, but I knew that I needed to tell him.
“I… I kissed him. Before you go all, ‘why do you think you did that?’ I know why. He saved me, and I owed him.”
“He offered you therapy, which was a step in the right direction. He also hasn’t left your side since you were admitted to the hospital. Is there something else that he has done for you?”
I told him about the dreams that started as nightmares, and then a mystery person with green eyes saved me, calming me with minimal words and his hands. I relayed the events that led up to the kiss, and I watched as Dr. Rogers’s lips stretched into a grin.
“You buried him in snow, took a picture of him, and kissed him because of how peaceful he looked? How did you feel after the kiss?”
“I felt… alive,” I breathed, feeling my heart thumping excitedly. “It was unlike any kiss I'd ever had. He told me it felt like a dream and to kiss him again, and I did. Dr. Rogers, it was like… I knew.”
“Knew what exactly?”
Damn, I had to tell him everything.
“That I… was attracted to him. I could stare into his eyes for hours and get lost and not care because it was him. He has given me so much. How do I ever repay him?”
“Was that what you were thinking when you kissed him?” He took a sip of his tea, and I shook my head.
“It was a thought, but… he looked so beautiful with the snow surrounding him. His eyes were so… green. So beautiful.” I closed my eyes and thought of Stephen in that moment. My mouth became dry, and my eyes flew open as my therapist snapped his fingers.
“Hey, are you still with me?”
I nodded, and he smiled.
“So, he obviously accepted the kiss. What happened next?”
“We went inside and talked about everything. I had apologized for kissing him.” I lowered my head, feeling shame wash over me.
“Why did you apologize?”
“I was afraid that I had overstepped. I was afraid that he would… reject… me.” I turned away from him.
“When you've been in other relationships or at bars or clubs, have you ever felt unsure about how you interacted with other men? Like, were you ever uncertain about how you handled yourself?” He jotted down something in his notebook, and I sighed.
“No, not really. I always knew what I wanted, and now all I do is second-guess myself. I used to be so sure.” I closed my mouth, feeling a sense of fear wash over me. Who was I now?
“Do you think that the assault has changed your perspective a bit? Or do you feel like you can't trust yourself?”
“The assault has definitely made me more cautious,” I started. “But with Stephen, I don't know what to do. I know that I'm attracted to him, but… what do I do with that? He and I agree that we want to take things slow, but I feel like I'm failing him.” I covered my eyes, not wanting the tears to fall. Please, not here.
“Colin,” his tone was calm as he softly spoke to me. “What is it? Why do you feel like you're failing him?”
“Because I can't give him what I know he needs.” I dropped my head onto the desk, pressing my forehead into the oak. Please, don't make me say any more.
“And what is that exactly?”
“I can't. Please?” My heart rate was accelerating, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Okay. Breathe, that's it.” I focused on my breathing, feeling the urge to throw up. I wanted to go home. “Now, Stephen doesn't strike me as someone who would push you into anything you didn't want. Am I right?”
“Sure,” I said after lifting my head. “However, he is a man with needs. I can't fulfill those for him. What kind of a submissive am I? What kind of man am I if I can't please my… um… Dom?” There was no need for labels, but what was he to me?
“You are a man who's just been through a traumatic event. There is no rush, Colin. Does Stephen seem happy?”
“He does, but…”
“Are you happy, Colin?” He tapped his pen on the desk, and I closed my eyes. Images filled my head of me and Stephen: training, eating together, signing our contract, hugging. During those times, I felt safe, protected, and… happy.
“Yes, I am.” I smiled as I said the words, feeling their weight in my gut. I was happy with Stephen by my side.
“Then keep the happy moments in the forefront of your mind. Intimacy is important, but it's not everything. In a way, you already have an intimate connection with him. You allow his touch and now his kisses.”
“Um, there's something else, but I don't know how to tell you…” I shifted in my chair, feeling sweat underneath my arms. How could I tell my therapist about my hard-on while Stephen and I kissed? This was weird.
“Take your time. Therapy is a process. Not everything has to be revealed at once, but eventually…”
“I… I got… um,” I stammered, averting my gaze. “Erect… Oh God! I'm sorry, this is…”
“It's different. When did this happen?”
“Um, when we were kissing before I left on Sunday. It was… unexpected. I hadn't… um, felt that in a while.”
“How did you feel?”
“To be honest,” I inhaled deeply. “Scared. I wondered if he could tell, and then I pulled away from him. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.”
“I see. Your body was responding to his kiss, and you were terrified of that response?”
“Yes,” I whispered, pressing my hand to my forehead. “I didn't want him to think that I wanted him in that way, but… God, it felt so good to be kissing him. What if… I did want him?”
“Colin, you have needs, too. Now, I know that you've been struggling lately with your self-esteem and body image. Somehow, after almost two months of not feeling anything sexually, you get erect from a kiss with a man who has saved your life in dreams and, in a way, in reality. What do you think that means?”
“I… I don't know,” I groaned, feeling the pressure in my head grow. “I don't want to think about what that would mean because it would signify that I… I can't. Stephen doesn't think of me like that. He’s just my Dom. Nothing more.”
“Okay then. If you don't want to talk about Stephen and your newfound attraction for him, we only have twenty minutes left. Let's talk about your mother.”
“My aunt is my mother.” I squeezed my eyes shut as an image of Eleanor lying next to me on the couch, passed out, flashed through my mind. No!
“Colin, you care about your mother, though she was suffering. It’s okay to want answers about what happened.”
“I have all of the answers that I need, Dr. Rogers. She was grieving her mother and turned to alcohol to cope, not even giving her son a second thought. I don't need to know anything else.” I shook my head.
“Why haven't you been to visit her?” His question was valid, but all I felt was pain.
“I don't want to see her. I told you that my aunt raised me. She shaped and molded me into who I am. What can my mother tell me that would make me feel any better about my childhood?” My breathing became ragged, and Dr. Rogers rose from his chair.
“In and out for six. Let's do it together. Grab my hand if you need something to ground you. I'm here.”
I held my breath for six, and while Dr. Rogers counted out loud, I closed my eyes. I recalled my auntie carrying me out of my home, a black duffel bag swung over her shoulder. My mother was sprawled out on the couch, but I couldn't see her face. I reached out, and a firm hand gripped mine. I recalled kicking and screaming in my auntie's arms, and I squeezed the hand that I was holding. She saved me.
“Where did you go just now, Colin?” It was my therapist, and I opened my eyes to find his warm eyes regarding me.
“I… was being carried out of my childhood home at seven years old. My mother was passed out on the couch. Oh God, I was taken away from her, and she witnessed it. Oh, my…”
“Colin, you were a young boy. This wasn’t your fault. Your auntie took matters into her own hands, but she was worried about your safety. You've said before that she saved you.”
“Yes, but my mother? She had no say in the matter. She… Oh God. Was she protecting me? All this time, could she have been protecting me from her disease?” I stood from the chair, feeling lightheaded. I needed to get out of here.
“Hey, Colin. Look at me.”
I snapped my eyes toward Dr. Rogers's, and concern shone in his expression. “You were just a boy. You had the decision taken away from you. Now, you have a choice. You asked me earlier what your mother could say to make you feel better. She could tell you that she's sorry.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“For her disease getting in the way of caring for you. For leaving you with your auntie. For not having the strength to go on. Would that apology help you gain some closure?”
