Safe in His Arms (21 page)

important was going on, something he needed to explore. But where to start?

As he tried to collect his thoughts, Hank dropped his head into his hands. The

throbbing was so pervasive now he could almost hear it, like a heart drumming in his

head. He reached for the bottle of pain medication he‘d shoved into his pocket and

popped two of the pills, washing them down with coffee.

Reese sat quietly, sipping from his mug, waiting. Finally Hank said, ―I‘ve never

been with anyone like him, Reese. He actually gives a crap. I was thinking about it.

Nobody ever really gave a damn about how I behaved, except you that is. My parents

ignored me, no matter what I did. When I acted up and got in trouble, all they did was

throw money at the problem and hope it, and I, would go away. Eventually I did.‖

Reese nodded. ―Yeah, I know. I remember. And you coped by shutting everyone

out, including me.‖ They were quiet a while, Reese looking thoughtful, Hank feeling

miserable. Finally Reese said, ―Tell me more about Russell. From the sound of it, he got

through some of the chinks in your armor. How the heck did he do that?‖

Hank offered a wan smile. ―He‘s incredibly bossy,‖ he said, feeling a rush of

affection. ―And not only in the bedroom. But it‘s a good bossy. I‘m realizing now that I

needed a whole lot of bossing to get my head out of my ass.‖ Hank was quiet a minute,

trying to organize his jumbled thoughts.

―You remember the SM games I liked to play with you?‖ he began.

―Yeah, I remember.‖ Reese frowned and Hank felt ashamed. When he‘d used Reese

and others in that way, it hadn‘t been about any kind of loving connection. It had been

about control, pure and simple. He had enjoyed forcing Reese to submit to his bondage

and humiliation games, using them as a way to keep Reese ―in his place.‖

What he‘d shared with Russell had nothing to do with that kind of demeaning

game. Hank shook his head. ―Man, I really did a number on you, Reese. I‘m…‖ He

paused, struggling with the words, unsure what to say or how to say it. Reese was

watching him expectantly.

Taking a breath, Hank steeled himself to plunge once more into the icy waters of

apology. ―I‘m sorry, Reese. I‘m sorry for how I treated you. I‘m sorry for all the years of

keeping you around like some kind of pet, and then trying to destroy your relationship

with Jeff. I‘m sorry for being such a shit.‖ His voiced cracked and his throat felt tight,

like two steel bands were squeezing it on either side. Staring into his cup, he forced

himself to continue. ―I spent my whole life acting like the world owed me, while I owed

nothing in return. I see that now. I‘ve fucked up big time. I‘m really sorry for how I hurt

you.‖

There was silence. When he looked up, Reese was staring at him, his mouth open,

eyebrows lifted.

―What?‖ Hank demanded.

Reese slowly shook his head. ―I have to say, I honestly never thought I‘d hear those

words from you. You have no idea how much it means to me to have you take some of

the weight for what went down between us—not just the crap with Jeff, but all those

years when you held such sway over me.‖ He gave a small laugh, still shaking his head.

―And for what it‘s worth, you weren‘t the only one who behaved badly. For years I

bought into the same kind of life, as you well know. The great thing is, we‘ve been

offered another chance. We‘re both learning, in our own ways, that life doesn‘t have to

be such a fucking battle. We‘re not at war with the rest of the world. I know who you

are, Hank, and what you‘re going through, because I was there too.‖

He reached across the table for Hank‘s hand. ―Tell me more about Russell.‖ At

these simple words, something eased inside Hank. He realized he was, on some level at

least, being forgiven. The aching loneliness that had gripped him for so long was

suddenly less acute, or easier to bear. He found himself almost eager to explain his

connection with Russell.

―Here‘s the thing,‖ Hank began earnestly, hoping he could explain it right. ―Russell

is a Dom. But not like I pretended to be. He‘s the real thing, but in a loving way. With

him, it‘s not just a game. It‘s not a way to put someone down or keep them in their

place. It‘s, man, I don‘t know how to describe it.‖ Hank paused, trying to find the

words.

―Are you telling me
you
subbed to Russell? Can I possibly be hearing this

correctly?‖ Reese gave a long, low whistle of surprise. ―Man, I have got to meet this

guy.‖

Hank felt his face heat, though he knew he deserved whatever Reese cared to mete

out. The old Hank would have snarled something cutting to divert attention from

himself, but he found he no longer had the heart or desire to react that way.

―Russell had this way of, I don‘t know, calming me when I was agitated that is like

nothing I‘ve ever experienced.‖ Hank gripped his cup with both hands, not used to

sharing from his heart, but determined to try to explain.

―We had this connection. It was like Russ truly saw into me, into the good things I

didn‘t know were there. He cared about me. I felt like, I don‘t know, like we were in it

together. It was a give and take, something real. Not just what he could force from me

or what I could manipulate him into doing for me, but what we did for each other. It

went way beyond just sexual gratification. It was about…‖ Hank paused as the word he

was still new at admitting could possibly have a place in his life settled into his mind,

drifting there soft as a feather. ―…love.‖ Hank blew out a breath and rubbed his face

with his hands, wishing he could rub away the aching loss he now felt for what he‘d

thrown away.

Reese nodded thoughtful, no irony in his expression. ―It sounds like an actual

relationship,‖ he said, but there was no sarcasm in his tone. ―Giving, not just fancy toys

and trips to Europe in exchange for control, but actually giving of yourself.‖

―Yes,‖ Hank said gratefully, though the reminder of how he‘d treated Reese still

stung. ―When I was with him, for the first time in my life, it wasn‘t just about me. I

cared about his pleasure and his comfort. You‘d laugh at all the little silly things I did

for him.‖

Hank shrugged, suddenly embarrassed, but now that he‘d started talking about

Russell, he didn‘t want to stop. ―I really enjoyed doing them too. He didn‘t let me spend

a dime on him so I had to work harder to come up with ways to show him I cared. I

wanted to make him feel good and happy. I loved to listen to him talk about life and

love, what his goals were, and why he was working so hard to achieve his dream of

owning his own microbrewery.‖

His voice dropped, his heart nearly breaking as he added, ―I loved his faith in me

and his belief in the man I could become.‖

There was a pressure behind Hank‘s eyes, hot and unwelcome. He pressed his lips

together to keep from crying out with grief at what he‘d done, and all he‘d lost as a

result. He reached for his mug, glad for the chance to hide his face while he grappled

for control.

―It sounds like you‘re in love, Hank. That in itself is pretty fucking amazing.‖ Reese

shook his head. ―Russell must have something special to get past your defenses.‖ Reese

leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs as he appraised Hank. ―I guess now

you have to figure out what to do next. Maybe before you think about winning this guy

back, you need to get your life in order.

―Now, don‘t react to what I‘m about to say. Hear me out first. I‘ve thought for a

long time your drinking and drugging was more than just recreational. The fact you got

behind the wheel in the condition you were in pretty much confirms that. When do you

have to go to court for sentencing?‖

―Sentencing!‖ Hank expostulated. ―Jesus, do you think I‘ll go to jail?‖

Reese shook his head. ―Nah, it‘s your first offense, right? And nobody else was

hurt, thank goodness.‖ Hank nodded. ―They‘ll probably just fine you, take away your

license for a while and make you attend some kind of alcohol education program.‖

―Oh, that‘s all,‖ Hank said sarcastically.

Reese pursed his lips. ―Could have been way worse and you know it.‖

Hank nodded, chastened as he imagined mangled bodies, one of them his own.

What had he been thinking, getting behind the wheel smashed off his ass?

Reese continued. ―Even if the judge doesn‘t order some kind of recovery program,

you‘d be well advised to attend one. You don‘t have to be a full blown alcoholic or

addict to get help, you know. It can be a real support when you need it most, and they

give you tools to help cope.‖

Hank didn‘t reply right away, aware he once would have reacted with anger and

denial. Thinking about the huge and stupid risk he‘d taken, not only with his own life,

but others out on the road, he had no argument.

They were quiet a while, Hank with his elbows on the table, resting his aching head

in his hands, Reese balancing on two legs of his chair and staring at the ceiling. ―Man,

oh man,‖ Reese finally said, incredulity in his tone. ―How the mighty have fallen.‖

Once Hank would have reacted with fury and denial, but he was too beaten down

to disagree, and anyway, it was true. He‘d hit the bottom. There was nowhere left to go

but up. The thought offered an odd sort of comfort.

Reese sat forward. ―Look, Hank. This might sound kind of preachy, but maybe you

had to lose it all to start to reclaim your life. For what it‘s worth, I‘ve been there too,

buddy. It seems like there‘s nothing left, but there is. You just have to reach inside and

find it.‖

He held out his left hand, the fingers splayed. He touched each one with his right

index finger as he ticked off a list. ―Now let‘s focus on action, and what you can do

going forward to clean this up. Your bank accounts are frozen, your car is totaled and

you have no job. You‘ve messed up the one good thing in your life, and that‘s your

relationship with Russell.‖

Hank groaned, despair again gripping him. But Reese persisted. ―Listen to me,

Hank. If you want Russell back, you‘re going to need to show him you‘ve changed. You

can whine into your coffee all you want, but I‘ve learned from my own experience,

unless you take action and change the way you‘re living, you‘ll spend the rest of your

life right where you are now, which, forgive my being blunt, is nowhere.‖

Hank lifted his head. He laughed a thin laugh that was not laughter at all but tears,

rerouted. ―I‘m afraid it‘s too late. Russell made it pretty clear that I‘m no longer

welcome in his life.‖

―It‘s never too late, Hank.‖

Hank glanced up sharply, pushing down the tendril of hope Reese‘s words gave

rise to. Reese continued. ―Look, obviously this guy believes in you, or he did once. You

need to figure out what it was he saw, and nurture that. Bring it back, let it shine.‖

Hank shook his head. ―You don‘t know what all I did. It‘s not so easy. I pretty

much blew it.‖ He hung his head miserably.

Reese hit his fist on the table, startling Hank with the vehemence of his words.

―Damn it, Hank, I spent most of my adult life trying to melt that frozen heart of yours. I

have to say, I didn‘t think it was possible. Now it‘s thawed, and yeah, it hurts. I know it

hurts bad. But at least you‘re feeling
something
. Yeah, maybe you don‘t have a fool‘s

chance in hell of winning him back, but that doesn‘t mean you give up. Become the man

Russell thinks you can be. Find your own happiness. Let that be your first goal.‖

Hank nodded, thinking back to the last time he‘d seen Russell, before he stormed

out in self righteous rage. He‘d been so angry and defensive when Russell had been

issuing his edict on how Hank had to change if he was going to be in his life, that he‘d

failed to focus on the door Russell had left open. He hadn‘t slammed it in Hank‘s face—

Hank had been the one to do that, both literally and figuratively.

Now he heard Russell‘s words, really heard them for the first time.
I’m here for you.

But only if you’re willing to work at it. Do this thing, Hank. Do it for me. Do it for yourself. Do

it for us.

Was there a chance? Did he dare to hope?

Hank looked up slowly, a new sense of resolve moving through him. He felt lighter

than in a long time as the weight of his own resistance lifted. ―Maybe you‘re right.

Maybe I can do something about the mess I‘ve made of my life.‖

Hank started to pull his Mont Blanc fountain pen from his jacket pocket and

thought better of it. Instead he pulled the plastic disposable pen from the top of the

clipboard and focused on the job application in front of him.

It had been six days since his declaration to Reese and himself that he could and