Raw Ch. 12

I turned sideways in our embrace. Did the fact that my question was selfish mean I shouldn't ask it? Look what keeping silent about the ordeal with Jesse had caused.

His hands threaded into my hair. "That day they showed up in February, he said you wanted to leave us alone to catch up. I didn't think anything of it until I found you locked in your office. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. You seemed distant but still engaged at dinner, so I wasn't concerned. Maybe it was the weather. I didn't think it had anything to do with their visit."

He'd opened the door I was afraid to turn the handle on. So I walked right through. "What did you and Juliet talk about?"

"Paris mostly. Where we'd been since. It was cathartic. She said we'd come so far, and yet not far at all. It all reminded me of what my life used to be like. The good. The bad. Lots of memories."

"You miss her."

Malcolm sat up suddenly and held me away from him with both hands, his eyes boring into mine. "What did you just say?"

Oh. My. God. "I-I don't know..."

"Yes, you do."

I shook my head. "It's not what I meant to say."

"But you were thinking it." His lips pressed together as he studied me. "There's something else, isn't there? Just spit it out."

I hesitated. I would have made up something if I thought I could get away with it. But his dark eyes held me captive, and his grip tightened on my arms. If I lied...

"Say it, Becca. I want to hear it. And don't lie to me."

I lifted my chin, but it shook as I mumbled, "Did Juliet try to seduce you?"

His grip loosened, and he backed off a bit. His forehead creased as it did when he was trying to figure something out in his head. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft I almost didn't hear him. "Why in the world would you think that?"

"Because you said she's done it the past. You met her at a stripclub. You spent an entire summer with her in France. She's a very beautiful woman. And she's very kinky. It's under—"

"Seriously, Becca? Do you think I have no restraint?" He was up and pacing now. "Do you have no trust in me?"

"I didn't ask if you had sex." I stood as well, rubbing my hands up and down my arms where his fingers had been just seconds before. As strange as it sounded, I actually missed them. His touch kept me grounded. Away from him, I began to think irrationally again in stressful situations like this one. He had that much effect on me. "I asked if she tried to seduce you. But now I'm wondering about—"

"Is that what all of this has been leading up to? You're jealous of a woman who was never my partner, much less a girlfriend? Was there ever any issue with Jesse? Maybe that was all a façade so you could throw Juliet in my face."

My lower lip trembled. I would not back down this time. It was too important. "You haven't answered my question."

He scoffed. "I didn't think it merited an answer."

His non-answer unsettled me even further. We were only standing three feet apart, but he could have been on the phone in Wheaton for as far away from him as I felt inside at that moment. "Is it so far fetched to think that you couldn't be wiled by her wicked ways?"

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

I stood up straighter. "I see how she looks at you. Talks to you. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought Jesse taught her to be that way. She's just as manipulative as he is. Maybe more. He's done it to me. Surely she could do it to you. Or are you impervious because you're a Dom?"

"You are walking on very thin ice, sweetheart."

"What are you going to do? Spank me?" I turned around and put my hands on the arm of the couch, thrusting my ass out. I glared at him over my shoulder. "Go ahead. Punish me for believing what I've seen with my own two eyes."

He took a step toward me, his hands on his hips. "And what was that?"

I faced him again and held my ground. Every fiber of my being said I'd gone too far. That I should have shut up when I'd had the chance. Now, it was too late. I couldn't just let it go that Juliet may have tried to seduce my fiancé...and possibly succeeded.

"I saw you touching her naked body just this morning."

"She was wearing underwear!" Another step closer to me.

My legs quivered. "Oh, that makes it alright?"

"I had to touch her to bind her and hook her to the bars." He suddenly turned and walked in the other direction, to my relief.

My breath came out shaky. "Because you couldn't have used me to practice?"

"You were sleeping!"

"Yes, while your mentor could have been molesting me!"

"I didn't know that!" He ran his hands back through his hair as he stared out the patio door again. "I can't believe this is happening."

"You have a history. All three of you. What would you expect someone in my position to think?"

He turned abruptly. "I'd expect you to trust me that it's exactly what you said. History. There's nothing there now."

"Apparently not according to them. They aren't ready to let you go. Especially her. Are you that blind? Especially after everything I've told you?"

He was in front of me in three large strides. His breath heated my cheeks. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You need to stop this, right now."

I retreated to my corner of the couch, but the words had already formed and were spilling out of my mouth. "Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe I can't submit properly because you can't dominate!"

"ENOUGH!"

His yell shook me to my core. I should obey him. But a nagging feeling told me that I wasn't the only one who had a secret. And I had to know. "I'm going to ask you one last time."

His Adam's apple slowly bobbed as he swallowed and backed away. He stopped at the chair. Then he lowered his head as if he knew...as if he was waiting for the final blow.

"Did she seduce you?" The words were a low growl through clenched teeth. I leaned forward, renewed tension spreading throughout my body.

He gripped the back of the armchair. I wished I could see his face.

When he didn't answer, I slowly got to my feet. "Maybe in the den. Maybe in the dungeon. His or ours, doesn't matter. Did she seduce you? Did. You. Fuck. Her?"

He lifted his eyes to mine. I saw despair and defiance fighting for control. "She sucked my cock."

"Get. Out."

"Becca, please. I heard you out..."

"GET OUT NOW!" I realized my neighbors could probably hear my scream, but I was beyond caring.

He moved past me, shooting me the angriest look I'd ever seen. I heard the scrape and jingle as he retrieved his keys from the table in the front hall. The front door slammed a moment later.

I stood in the living room, my hands fisted at my sides. Just like I'd entered almost an hour ago. But now, my chest was heaving. My head was throbbing.

I collapsed to the floor, clutching my chest. What had I done?

###

When I pried my eyes open, my cheeks were stiff from dried tears. The room was semi-dark, and I could hear the sounds of bugs chirping outside my bedroom window. I shivered from the evening breeze creeping in and pulled the blanket tighter up under my chin.

I remembered crying until I felt completely empty inside. My back had ached from lying on the hardwood floor of my living room for so long. I didn't remember coming upstairs. But I must have.

I played the events of the morning all over again in my mind. Waking up at Jesse's house with no clothes on. Seeing Malcolm touching Juliet. Fighting with him. Finding out she'd given him a blowjob.

The last one triggered a fresh round of tears to fill my eyes. I told myself I didn't care about the when or why. That there was no acceptable explanation. But I did care.

When I eventually rolled over to check the clock, it read that it was ten till seven. Shit. I'd slept most of the day away. I sat up and looked around, realizing I was alone.

My heart broke a little more knowing that Malcolm wasn't there. I knew he wasn't going to be downstairs waiting for me, either. Although, part of me did hope.

My stomach rumbled, and it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours. I pushed aside my thoughts of food and wondered how we were going to repair the damage we'd both caused. Was it even possible?

Just as I feared, it was dark downstairs as well. And a little cold. I wandered into the living room and shivered as I saw the patio door was still open. The evening breeze blew in through the screen door. I imagined Malcolm standing there earlier today with his hair tousled about his head. I closed my eyes and inhaled. My nose twitched at the scent of rain in the air.

I stepped outside, grateful that I was still wearing my sweater. Despite a pending shower, the sky was a brilliant orange and red to the west as the sun set. As I faced the east again, the sky faded into shades of blue until it was almost black over the horizon. It was beautiful.

I wiped the back of my hand at my eyes, wishing Malcolm were here to experience it with me. It was one of our favorite things to do in the evening out on the coast. We tended to forget to watch the sunset when we were in Illinois. Too many other things to distract us. But out there, we could watch both sunrises and sunsets from strategic places in the house or on the beach, and all of our troubles stayed back in Chicago. What I wouldn't give to be back out at the beach house. To be away from all of this turmoil.

I knew then I had to hear Malcolm out, regardless of what came of it. I owed him that. I loved him. I couldn't just walk away having not given him a chance to explain.

I was searching for my purse to check my phone for missed calls or messages when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, thank God. Did you forget your house key—" I stared dumbfounded at the police officer on the stoop as I opened the front door.

"Ms. Rockland?" The tall man tipped his hat at me when I managed a nod. "I'm Officer Marx."

The flashing red and blue lights over his shoulder drew my attention. Another officer stood by the open passenger door. I heard no sirens. Fuck. I gripped the door handle so hard my hands were burning.

"Ma'am?" Officer Marx scratched his forehead for a moment. "There was a car accident. Mr. McClaren had you as his emergency contact. We tried to call, but there was no answer. We've been trying to locate you in Wheaton. Then we found your Chicago address. If you could—"

"M-Malcolm? What—" I tried to lick my lips, but it didn't help my sudden cottonmouth. Even my eyes had gone dry.

"Ma'am, I think you should come with us," the other officer said, joining Officer Marx. He was shorter, heavier, and his nametag said 'Trenton.'

My head was buzzing now. I saw neighbors with unknown names and faces slowly filing out into the street or peaking out of their doors and windows to gawk. It was like watching a movie on mute as both officers led me down the front steps to the waiting patrol car.

It started raining as we drove through the city. All of the buildings were a swirl of flashing colors and lights against the night sky. But that was partially due to the tears filling my eyes again. They trickled down my cheeks as I blinked. I cursed myself that my last words to Malcolm had been in anger.

When the car stopped outside of the emergency room at the University of Chicago Medical Center, Officer Marx helped me from the backseat. I felt the cold sting of the rain as it blew against my face despite the overhang of the driveway. Inside, the lights were too bright. The noises of chatter and calls on the intercom suddenly broke through my haze, and I squeezed my eyes shut as if it would help.

The officers led me past the receptionist counter, through a door, and to a bay of elevators. I'd never been to the morgue. I steeled myself to not faint when I saw Malcolm. What would he look like? Would I be able to recognize him?

When the elevator doors parted, Officer Marx held my arm as we walked out. I balked at the smell of antiseptic and the underlying stench of sickness all hospitals had. I felt numb but slightly relieved as we stopped at the nurses' station. We weren't in the morgue. A woman in purple scrubs and her hair in long, black braid asked me if there was someone they could call to be with me. I mumbled something about my mother being on my phone as I handed it over.

I heard bits and pieces as both officers spoke with the nurse about the condition of the new patient. She said it was touch and go. He'd had to have his heart restarted once, and he was in immense pain. I couldn't wait any more.

I wandered over to the transparent wall beside the nurse's station and numbly walked through the door as it slid open. I stopped at the first room. A sign on the glass wall that was mostly another sliding door stated a bunch of warnings, but the only word that clicked in my brain was "ICU."

A man lay in the bed. The only parts of his face that were visible between the bandages wrapped around his head were red and puckered with burns. Tubes and wires ran from various beeping machines positioned around the bed, connecting to every imaginable part of his body.

Any ray of hope within me turned to darkness, like the night sky taking over the sun. My knees gave out, and a silent scream escaped. Why had I been so selfish to fight with him? It had been so stupid. I should have submitted to him. I wish I'd never—

"Ms. Rockland?" Officer Trenton said.

An arm wrapped around just under my shoulders, helping me stand. Then someone led me away from the room and back through the main sliding door. Away from the love of my life.

"No, I have to see him," I mumbled, struggling to turn around.

"Mr. McClaren is down the hall." Officer Marx stepped up on my left side so that both officers flanked me. "Please, come with us."

I blinked through my hot tears, my feet moving in the same direction as the officers against my will. Away from the ICU. My knees buckled as I thought the worst. If he wasn't in intensive care...

But hope seeped back in as I realized there were regular rooms on this floor as well. That the patient they had been discussing was not Malcolm. That he wasn't dead or dying.

A couple of machines filled the room we stopped at as well, but Malcolm was clearly recognizable under the sheet and blanket. My eyes danced over his face. Other than a black eye, a busted lip, and several white strips along the left side of his face, he looked amazing. Then I noticed that a cast encased his left leg. And it was elevated in a sling-type contraption.

A woman wearing a white lab coat stood by one the heart monitor. She turned to us as we entered.

"Ms. Rockland? I'm Dr. Runyon."

I just nodded at her. I tried to scoot past her. I had to touch him.

She stopped me with a hand on my arm. I glanced over my shoulder as she gently led me toward the door. Malcolm hadn't moved an inch. I silently begged him to open his eyes.

"Is he..." I couldn't say the words.

"He's stable." Dr. Runyon stepped in front of me so I could only see her. "His left fibula is broken, and he has a couple of fractured ribs. We've set the leg in surgery. The ribs will heal in about six weeks, and we'll start physical therapy for the leg around the same time when the cast comes off. He had hit his head, but his CT scan came back clear. I'd like to keep him under observation for a couple of days and take another chest X-ray just to make sure we didn't miss anything. I also want to monitor his breathing. If he can't breathe deeply, he could develop pneumonia."

I nodded, trying to process everything she'd said. Broken bones. No head trauma. Avoid pneumonia.

Officer Marx joined us with another man in a suit, and then the officer left with a tip of his hat.

The man in the suit pulled a notepad out of his shirt pocket. "Ms. Rockland, I'm Detective Jansen. Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions?"

I blinked at him, glanced at Malcolm, and stared at the doctor for a moment. "Yes, but I don't know what good it will do. I wasn't there."

"Do you know a Jesse Pratt?"

I swallowed hard. "He's a friend of Malcolm's. What does he have to do with this?"

"Mr. McClaren was in altercation with Mr. Pratt prior to the car accident. Something about overstepping boundaries with a woman according to a witness." Detective Jansen pointed to his own lip and eye, indicating how Malcolm had received those injuries. "Apparently, Mr. McClaren was leaving the scene when another car ran a stop sign and T-boned him. Mr. Pratt called 9-1-1."

How very chivalrous of Jesse. I hid my scoff with a cough. But my heart sung at the thought that Malcolm had gone to defend me, regardless of our fight.

I had to answer several more questions before he let me back into Malcolm's room. I was running on only adrenaline by the time I pulled a chair over beside the bed and managed to weave my hands around Malcolm's through the IV tube and the device clipped to his finger to measure his pulse. Then I laid my head on his stomach and cried until the blanket between us was soaked.

If I knew they wouldn't chastise me, I would have crawled into the bed, too. I slept fitfully as it was with nurses coming in to check various levels on the machines or administer more pain medication. It amazed me how they expected patients to recover if they were poking and prodding them at all hours.

Marge, the night desk nurse, tried to convince me to go down to the waiting room where there was a couch, but I couldn't stand to leave Malcolm's side. I left only long enough to get a sandwich and soup from the cafeteria. When I'd returned, I heard Marge arguing with someone that only family could be on the floor after regular visiting hours.

I rounded the corner to see Juliet pacing with her arms crossed and wearing a scowl. Jesse was leaning on one arm across the counter, a smirk on his face as he tried to flirt with Marge. Just what I needed.

"Beeca!" Juliet hurried over to hug me. I was so shocked I just stood there. "How eez mon chéri?"

"Ms. Rockland!" Marge sighed at the sign of reinforcements. "I tried to tell them—"

"I'm sorry, but neither of you are welcome here," I said. My brain said I should shove Juliet away, but I was too exhausted to have a catfight right now. I'm surprised I could even form a complete sentence.

Juliet gasped, finally letting me go only to put her hands to her face as she shook her head. "Comment absolument impoli!"

Jesse's smug look slowly disappeared from his face...that seemed to be devoid of any evidence that he'd been in a scuffle. Which told me that Malcolm had been the punching bag for his old mentor. How very typical and dominating of Jesse. I was glad I had not witnessed that act of humilation. However, Jesse had not come out of the struggle completely unscathed. His knuckles were raw, and he seemed to be favoring his left hand as he gestured to the waiting room. "Lady Becca, let us talk about this."

"There is nothing to discuss, Jesse. Malcolm is in this situation solely because of you. He was defending my honor." To push the point even further, I turned back to Juliet and said, "As for you, the only 'darling' Malcolm has is me, his fiancée. We would both appreciate it if you could accept that and move on."

"He wazn't complaining when I took care of heem lazt night," Juliet sneered. "He waz beeging for more!"

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Although she'd provided the answer to one of the many nagging questions I had, I knew this was not the time to deal with that. "I don't give a shit what you say happened last night, bitch. Keep your hands off my man, or we'll be pressing charges."

Juliet clamped her mouth shut with a loud humph and tugged the sides of her coat tighter around her as she turned with her nose in the air. I heard a snicker from Marge.

Apparently, it wasn't as easy to silence Jesse. He reached out and grabbed my left arm. "Lady Becca, I insist that you reconsider both your words and your actions. Your current attitude is highly unbecoming for a submissive."