ZANDER
Seated across from Ella in the blue room, I can’t help but come to the realization that’s been following me since our last session.
It didn’t just change things for her. It changed things for me. The way we were together unlocked something buried deep down. The fire crackles, keeping the expansive room warm even though the chill of late fall has set outside.
That one truth, that something has shifted inside of me, is something I’ve been keeping at bay with four-count breaths for months now.
I couldn’t really admit it to myself.
But now, looking at Ella …
I know.
Everything has changed and it can never go back to what it once was. It’s not only that I want to share myself with her. It’s that I’m finally ready to stop carrying the burden of these thoughts by myself. I’ve been attempting to give Ella some of the same relief about her own past. How can I do that when I won’t do the same for myself? I know she feels this is one sided. Damon told me that she even claimed she was undeserving. It’s because I haven’t leaned on her as a Dom should. It works both ways. If anyone knows that, it’s me.
It’s hypocritical to not confide in her, and I don’t want to be hypocritical with her. I want to be myself. And these thoughts, these ideas, are part of me.
It’s only right to share them with her.
If Ella knew, then I wouldn’t be the only one. I wouldn’t have to carry it all by myself. It’s time to let this go. The only way I can do that is by confiding in her.
“What are you thinking about?” Ella asks me from her place in the armchair across from mine. She’s delectable this evening, in a cream silk slip designed just to taunt me. Her dark hair is swept over one shoulder, revealing her slender neck which carries a faint mark from last night as I nipped her in the heat of the moment. “Hmm?” she presses and her chestnut eyes pierce into me.
I want to deflect and move on to another topic. That’s been an old habit of mine. But I force myself not to do it.
“I was just thinking that I wanted to tell you something.”
“Oh?” Her voice is even but her brow raises and there’s a worrisome look that I don’t like.
Smirking, I add, “It’s like you could read my mind.”
She huffs a small laugh at my comment.
“It’s about Quincy,” I warn her, testing her boundaries. She doesn’t shift, she doesn’t react in the least other than to nod, as if to tell me to continue.
“I think Quincy wanted me to tell her that I loved her,” I admit, my throat feeling sore around the words.
“The night she died?” Ella’s voice is soft and accepting.
I nod. “And before that, there were so many times she wanted me to say it. I knew she wanted that, and I never did.” Deep regret pierces through me.
Ella glances out the window, looking thoughtful. My heart beats faster. “You’ll tell me if you’d rather not discuss her.”
“I want to.” She’s quick to quell any second thoughts about confiding in her. Moving from her seat of solitude, she comes to me. And I make room for her. Just this, her soft touch and warmth, is enough.
Nestled beside me, she looks back into my eyes. “Did you love her?”
There’s no judgment in her tone. Only the desire for truth.
“Yes,” I admit. “I did love her. Maybe not in the way she wanted and not in the way I craved from a partner, but I still loved her.” I wrap my arm around her waist to tell her that it doesn’t affect what we have. I’m not comparing the two of them.
“I know what you mean.”
A weight lifts off my shoulders. Saying it out loud, even to one person, feels so much lighter. I can’t believe how heavy it felt to treat that information as a terrible secret. I can’t count how many nights I’ve lain awake wondering if I told Quincy what she wanted to hear, if I allowed myself to acknowledge it, would she still be alive.
What-ifs have never healed a damn thing, though, as Damon would say. “It was a different love than what we have,” I say, realizing what Ella might think and feel in this moment might be the complete opposite of what I’m experiencing.
A smile curves her lips. “I know, Z,” she murmurs. Ella maneuvers herself and drops into my lap, but I can feel in the tension of her muscles that she’s insecure.
My jailbird belongs to me. Now and always. She shouldn’t feel insecure for even a second.
“Come closer.” I wrap my arms around her.