Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Not here,” I say under my breath, though I don’t need to be so cautious. My mother escaped the kitchen as soon as she served breakfast. She’s freaked out in a major way. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her like this before.
Except maybe…
Fragmented images float through my head. My mother. My father. Me. But they’re like puzzles missing that one essential piece that remains elusive no matter how hard I look for it.
“Show me around,” Braden says.
“Why? You’ve seen the house. And the cornfields are huge, but if you see one acre, you’ve seen them all.”
He reaches toward me, trails a finger over my forearm. “Show me a certain part of it.”
“What part?”
“The part where you got lost.”
Again I’m sitting on that damned block of ice. I never ventured so far into the fields after that time. I haven’t given it any thought in ages—at least not until I told Braden the story a few weeks ago.
But maybe this is important. Maybe I need to face that part of me to understand the other parts. I swallow. “All right. I’ll take you there.”
I’m an adult now. I’m not seven years old. I’m taller than the corn, and even if I’m not, Braden certainly is. We won’t get lost.
He touches my hand. “You’re frightened.”
“Not frightened exactly. A little apprehensive.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“You’ve never gone back there, have you?”
My eyes widen. “How did you know that?”
“You got rigid. Tense at the mere thought.”
“You can tell that by looking at me?”
“Of course. I know you, Skye. Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself.” He looks toward the entry and then lowers his voice. “I have to know my partner. I have to be able to read her body when she can’t speak to me. It’s part of the lifestyle. Part of how I keep you safe.”
His words give me hope. “Will we ever get back there, Braden?”
“I hope so,” he says, “because I don’t think I can exist without that part of my life.”
“You mean last night didn’t mean anything for you?”
“Last night meant everything to me. It was completely new to me, and I wanted it with you. But I can’t deny I still crave the darker side of sex. I always will. And if you and I can’t go there, I’m afraid there’s no future for us.”
Sadness sweeps through me. “We can go there, Braden. You’re the one who stopped it, not me.”
“True. But as long as you have that need—for the neck binding—I can’t be with you. That’s why I need you to figure out why you want it. That’s the only way we can deal with it, but until you know the reason behind that need, you’ll always want something I can’t give you. And that’s no way to begin a relationship. To begin a future together.”
“How can there be no future? We love each other.”
He cups my cheek, trailing his thumb over my lower lip. “Love isn’t always enough, Skye.”
“Love conquers all.”
“You’re better than a cliché,” he says. “You’re smarter than that.”
I nod. I can’t fight the truth of his words. Love doesn’t always conquer all, no matter how strong it is. For whatever reason, he won’t bind me at the neck. And for whatever reason, I need him to.
“I will answer your question, Braden,” I say. “That’s why I came here. To figure this stuff out. But when I answer yours, I expect you to answer mine. I want to know why it’s your hard limit.”
He nods. “I always intended to.”
“Then I’ll hold you to it.”
…
Our backyard is large, and one of our fields juts up against it, separated by chain-link fencing. It is, of course, the field where I got lost. I was never allowed to go anywhere near the other fields, as there’s no access from the house.
I breathe in deeply, willing my heart to remain steady. It wants to race, but I won’t let it. If I can’t control my body, what can I control? Not much.
I lead Braden to the chain-link gate at the far side of the yard.
“Is this where you went into the cornfield?” he asks.
“Yes. The gate was open.”
“Did you know how to open the gate?”
“Yeah. But I never did.”
“Were you allowed in the field?”
I nod. “As long as my mom was nearby and as long as I didn’t go in too far.”
“But that day, you went in.”
“Yeah. I was chasing a praying mantis, remember?”
“Right. You liked bugs.”
I smile at the memory. “I was never a girly girl. I played in the mud. I never wore dresses except on special occasions. I didn’t even wear makeup until my senior year of high school.”
“Did you help with the farming?”
“Not the actual farming, no. But I helped Mom dry and can corn in the fall. I helped her with her craft fairs and baking. That kind of stuff.”