Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“At the same time…” He swallowed hard. “I can think of nothing worse than waking up one day full of regret because I didn’t give us an honest chance. So…I have no choice. I have to show you the parts I’ve spent the past fifteen years hiding from others.”
I only stared at him. I was ready. I had no doubt what he struggled with was difficult, maybe even heartbreaking at times, but I didn’t care.
“Bring it on, darlin’.”
“Heh.” He exhaled an amused sound, all while his eyes filled with tears. “On Monday, you said aftercare wasn’t just reserved for after play.”
I nodded, remembering. Sometimes we had shitty days and needed tending to.
“These days, I do okay,” he said. “Working primarily from home has given me more peace, but before…? I used to work at a marketing agency, and I came home every single day completely exhausted mentally. I had a short fuse—and you know the feeling when your leg falls asleep? Imagine that in your brain, sort of. And your whole body, but it’s more mental than physical. Like, you know you can’t scratch the itch, but it feels like something is crawling under your skin. Deep within. A restlessness that fucks with your emotions and sends you in different directions without warning.”
I leaned back again and folded my arms over my chest.
Maybe it was a work hazard from years of solving problems, but my mind was already racing to come up with accommodations. Everything was figureoutable, as my daughter liked to say.
Lane looked a little restless, so he put himself to work again by plating the bacon. “Also, the reason I told you I’m a reluctant sub isn’t because it’s hard to accept I have a deep-seated desire to please and follow. It’s because there are so many aspects of my life in which I can’t give up control. I’m the bossiest sub out there.”
I grinned faintly and scratched my jaw, not worried for crap.
He glanced back at me. “It still bothers me that you didn’t even mention dusting in your Sunday cleaning vision. I literally checked the shelves in the living room while you were in the bathroom.”
I rumbled a laugh and winced. “Marina takes care of the dusting.”
“That’s what I feared. Dusting doesn’t exist in your world.”
Good thing I’d met someone who was passionate about it.
“Because if you think about it,” he continued, “there’s no point in vacuuming and mopping if you don’t dust first.” Definitely passionate. “The air moves in a room, Ty. All it takes is one little gust, and all the dust gathering on the shelves ends up on your newly mopped floor. Do I even wanna look at the reading lamp? The mantel? The actual knickknacks—oh, the tops of picture frames?”
I sucked my teeth and withheld another laugh. Obsessive might be more accurate.
That was okay. It was textbook human behavior to get stuck on something minor to do perfectly—to control—when so much else in your life was hard to manage. For Lane, I was taking a wild guess here, it was cleaning. Keeping things tidy.
“I’m trying to let go of certain things,” he said, adding sliced orange and apple wedges to the plates. “I lose sight of the big picture sometimes. I nitpick and zero in on something tiny, usually when I have a lot of anxiety.”
Understandable. “We cling to order when the ground we stand on isn’t stable.”
He let out a breath and nodded. “Yes—and that’s my life. Something is often unstable. I’m always patching up at least four holes in this sinking ship.”
Self-deprecating humor. A personal favorite.
He found my bread basket next to the oven and eyed it. No, I didn’t wash it every time. Yes, he would find crumbs in there.
He was so fucking adorable.
He scrunched his nose quickly before he added the croissants to a new plate instead, and then he rejoined me at the table.
“You done, kid?”
He raised a brow. “I’m only getting started.” He sat down and waved a hand dismissively. “But you may speak.”
Cute.
I broke off a piece of a croissant and stuck it into my mouth—and holy fucking hell, that was tasty bread. Not too hot. Buttery, flaky, perfect. “Jesus,” I muttered. Moving on. “You can warn me all you want, but did it ever occur to you that we might be a good match because I’m flexible where you’re not? I’m not sayin’ everythin’ will be sunshine and roses, Lane. We’ll compromise like any other couple. We’ll push through hurdles and make mistakes. That’s part of life whether you have ADHD or not.” I took a quick sip of my coffee because I had to say something before he took over again. “I’m not downplayin’ anythin’, just so you know. I’m only tryna tell you I’m ready. I’m as prepared as I can be at this stage—and I hope you will be patient with me too, because I understand it’s gonna take a lot of time to learn what I need to know. That’s the journey I want us to take together. But by all means, bring on the anxiety, bring on the emotional roller coasters, bring on the discussions of structure, with or without D/s.”