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Her gaze dropped, and her weight shifted on the barstool. “I did. Although, I almost changed my mind and stayed, you know.”
Jake watched her as he took a slow sip of beer. “No, I didn’t know.”
“I was torn.” Her hands opened and closed in her lap. “If you’d said you needed me…if you’d given the slightest hint that losing me would upset your life, I’d never have been able to leave.”
Jake straightened, winded as if she’d kicked him in the gut. “What fucking hint? I love”—when had the word turned past tense?—”loved you. I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Gaze on her drink, she traced a finger through the condensation on the glass. “You know, we all love our family, friends, even pets. But, a person doesn’t need a dog. They’re not essential to happiness. It’s not a give-and-take relationship.”
“I never treated you like a pet.” Jesus.
“No.” She huffed in exasperation. “But people who start a life together, they rely on each other. Lean on each other. Know each other’s weaknesses and worries so they can assist.”
“Right. Go on.”
“You supported me. But…I never did that for you. I didn’t make any difference in your life. You didn’t need me.”
“Heather—”
“I gave you nothing you couldn’t get from a couple of friends and an occasional sex buddy.”
Jake straightened. “That’s not true.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know now. But at the time, that’s what I thought.” She laid her hand over his on the bar. “Because you never let yourself show you’re not invulnerable.”
He scowled. What the fuck was it with people wanting him to be weak? “Doms are supposed to be strong. Submissives want someone to lean on.”
“I do. I found a Dom,” she said. “And he showed me what bothered me about you and me, Jake. It’s that I never felt as if I gave you anything important. A relationship—even a D/s one—is two people growing stronger together than they would apart. Not one tree standing alone with another leaning on it.”
Her smile wavered a little. “You know, submissives need to give just as much as Doms need to protect.”
Shades of Cullen. Jake’s brows drew together. Sipping his beer, he considered. Gunny had shown him how to dominate, how to flog and whip and all the various scene techniques. But…maybe, just maybe, his mentor hadn’t demonstrated how to maintain a long-lasting D/s relationship—because Gunny hadn’t known how. He’d had three divorces under his belt. Jake had figured the women couldn’t take the stress of loving a professional soldier, but perhaps something more fundamental had been lacking.
Fuck. Jake met Heather’s gaze. “I did need you.”
“I eventually reached that conclusion.” Relief and sorrow showed in her eyes as she rose. “We’ve both moved on, but…friends?”
He kissed her lightly. “Friends.”
As she walked from the bar, Jake watched her, seeing her appeal and sweetness. In all reality, their relationship might have worked if he’d been different. But…the bond he had with Rainie contained even more potential. Was more fulfilling.
When Rainie left, her loss would gut him in a way he’d never experienced before.
“Submissives need to give just as much as Doms need to protect.” Did Rainie find it easy to leave because she didn’t believe he needed her? He closed his eyes.
She was a woman who loved fulfilling the desires of everyone and everything around her—pets, friends, Doms. And her lover hadn’t let her do anything for him. Fuck, I’m an idiot.
There was more to her moving away though—a compulsion he didn’t understand.
But in order to get through to her, he’d have to show her he needed her…and that he’d fight to keep her with him.
* * * *
On Tuesday, a cold snap had blown off the Gulf, giving a bite to the moist air. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the maples as Rainie left her car and joined Jake in front of a popular Irish bar. She glanced up at him, relieved the strain on his face had faded.
The last few hours had been bad. Actually, they’d had an easy day until late afternoon when a cop arrived carrying a bloody mess. Saxon and Jake had done their best to save the animal. According to Ceecee, they’d tried long after most vets would have given up, but the dog had been too badly injured.
When Jake had come out of surgery, face set with misery, Rainie’s eyes had filled with tears. He’d started to turn away, then hesitated and said, “I know after-hours isn’t in your job description, but I’m… Would you come with me for a drink? For company? I…need you.”
He needed her. She could do something to help. Despite her sadness, her heart had been lightened.
When they reached the bar, Jake pulled open the door and smiled down at her. “Thanks for taking the time to join me.”
She fought back her first response, “I’d go with you anywhere,” and offered instead, “You’re welcome.”
The crowded bar smelled of beer and frying food, with hints of cologne and perfume. From the corner dedicated to darts came a light thunk, then high-pitched cheers and groans.
Hand on Rainie’s arm, Jake checked for a table.
She waited silently, cherishing even the smallest impersonal touch of his hand, storing memories for a future without him.
Jake ran his knuckles over her cheek. “You know, you’re excellent company, even when quieter than normal.” The sun lines at the corners of his eyes creased. “Maybe because you’re quieter than normal.”
Jostled out of her melancholy, she stared at him. “You’re-you’re insulting me? I was kind enough to join you and—”
A roar went up from the crowd watching basketball on the bar television. Rainie glanced over, noted the scoreboard—Miami Heat in the lead—and added her own, “Woot! Woot! Woot!” She was totally going to win her five-dollar bet with Saxon.
“There’s a table.” Taking her hand, Jake tugged her after him. His grip was strong. Warm. Familiar. And she wanted to hold on forever.
As he threaded their way through the rough-hewn tables, she smiled at various acquaintances. To her dismay, Mandy and Jefferson from her high school sat at one table. Her stomach clenched. Did they have to turn up everywhere?
It was as if they were walking, talking reasons of why she had to leave the Tampa/St. Pete area.
Then Jake stopped at an empty booth far too close to them. Dammit. She should have told Jake to pick a different bar. This one was far too popular with the locals.
Since flinging her arms out and screaming at the heavens, “Just shoot me now,” wouldn’t help—no matter how satisfying—she simply took a seat across from him. At least her back was to the rest of the room.
“What can I get you folks?” A waitress in jeans and a skimpy top appeared.
“Rainie?” Jake prompted.
“A Frozen Mudslide.” To Jake’s raised eyebrows, she explained, “It’s like getting chocolate, dessert, and alcohol all at once. Good for the end of a crap day.”
When his eyes darkened, she regretted her words. Why had she been stupid enough to remind him of the dog’s death?
But his smile reappeared. “Women and their chocolate.” He nodded at the barmaid. “Make that two.”
“Won’t work for you, dude,” Rainie said. “You see, the soothing effect of chocolate is diminished by too much testosterone—and I think you’re at toxic levels.”
Jake snorted.
As the giggling barmaid left, Rainie realized something. “You let me order. Without interfering or taking over.”
“Ah.” He leaned back comfortably, his long legs stretched under the table, catching Rainie’s ankles between them. She tried to move, but his legs trapped her. And her hormones burst out of the gate like racehorses when the bell sounded.
“I like being in control for sex, sweetling,” he said easily. “However, I don’t need to be in charge all the time.”
“Unless I try to put mushrooms in y
our eggs?” Her last morning at his house, he’d delivered a stinging swat to her ass as well as a lecture on why fungi were not to be confused with food.
His grin flashed in the dim bar lights. “’Tis most distressing when a subbie tries to poison her Dom.”
Her Dom. He never would be again. “Mushrooms or not, making breakfast is not sexual.”
“Sure is. Whenever a female is in a man’s house, it’s all about sex. Showering is sexual. Meals are sexual.” He grinned ruefully. “It’s a guy thing.”
“Like I said, toxic amounts of testosterone.” No joke. Every moment in his house had been infused with anticipation of being ravaged on the couch or fucked on a counter…and she’d loved it.
To Rainie’s relief, the barmaid interrupted the conversation to drop off their drinks.
Jake eyed his suspiciously. After a drink, he swirled the glass and drank again. “Good stuff.”
Rainie smiled. “Thanks.” She took a sip, closed her eyes, and moaned appreciation for the sublime combination of chocolate ice cream, Baileys, and Kahlua.
When she opened her eyes, his gaze met hers—hot with lust.
Her expressions of enjoyment stopped abruptly.
But, after clearing his throat, he returned to their conversation. “Seems like your Shadowlands notes said you wanted a part-time Dom. Not a full-time one.”
No, this would not be a topic they’d discuss. Not when the subject increased her sense of loss. “Nothing I’m going to worry about now, since it’ll be a while before I get settled in and find a new club.”
The muscles in his jaw grew taut, and his eyes turned an ice green.
He still wanted her to stay. The realization tightened her throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She forced her lips to tilt up. “So, what do you think of Miami Heat’s chances against Orlando?”
“I think you are changing the subject,” he said softly. “We’re going to—”
A man crowded their table. “Rainie.”
Rainie looked up. “Bart? Aren’t you supposed to be in Europe?”
“Yes.” He almost spit the word. His stocky frame was rigid with a fury she hadn’t seen since one of their truckers committed a hit and run. “I had to cancel our plans…to come back and save my business.”
Cory must have made a mess of things. No surprise there. “I’m sorry Cory—”
He slapped the table so violently the glasses rattled. “I hired you when you had no references. Gave you a good salary. Responsibilities. Trusted you.”
Wait…he wasn’t mad at Cory, but at her. Her breath clogged in her chest. “Yes, you did. And I worked my butt off for you.”
He leaned in, glaring into her face. “Sure you did.”
“That’s enough.” Jake rose.
Bart ignored him. “You walked out the door the minute I needed you. No notice. Left my boy in the lurch.”
When Jake stepped between them, Bart made a disgusted sound. “You aren’t worth yelling at.”
He stomped across the room, pushing people out of his way.
Rainie stared after him. But, but, but…
“Rainie.” Jake sat next to her and tucked her into his side. “Easy, sweetling.”
Bart disappeared somewhere in the room. She couldn’t pull her gaze away. The music and conversations were drowned out by the clamor of pain in her head. In her heart. He thought she’d walked out on him. He’d yelled at her. She put her hands over her mouth to hold back the sobs.
“Shit.” With gentle fingers against her cheek, Jake forced her to look at him. “Baby, I’ve seen you remove the hide from two old dragons. This was just one man, and he was wrong. Why didn’t you lay the truth on him?”
“He is”—her voice broke—”he was a friend. Gave me a job. Trusted me. Just like he said.” Self-loathing poured blackness through her veins. “I should have tried harder to work with Cory.”
“Rainie, his son attacked you. You didn’t walk out.”
“Oooo, is the whore crying?” The whisper came from the nearby table of classmates.
Rainie stiffened as the comments grew louder. “Look, Sheffield’s got it bad. Is he pussy-whipped or what?”
She tried to pull away. Jake shouldn’t hold her. Shouldn’t—
His head tilted, and he scowled. His arm was an unmovable iron bar around her.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
“The rude assholes really do bother you, don’t they?” He tipped her face up again, but she closed her eyes to avoid the disgust that must be in his. “Babe, they’re fucking insecure, needing to drag someone else down to feel adequate. Ignore them.”
What? Her gaze met his. He didn’t appear angry with her. Or disgusted.
His lips quirked. “What did you think I was going to do? Toss you out of the booth in case your unpopularity with a few losers might be contagious?”
She barely kept from nodding.
He stared. “Seriously?”
He honestly didn’t care what her classmates said? He’d called them losers. Her fingers were icy. Little tremors shook her body.
But Mandy and Jefferson were losers. She closed her eyes as the truth sank into her bones. She had friends, teachers, mentors who considered her valuable. Strong. Why did words coming from losers upset her so badly? Maybe her judgment scale was skewed if nasty comments from those she didn’t respect weighed more than opinions from people she valued. Somehow, someday, she needed to think about that.
“Rainie.” Jake squeezed her shoulder. “That old guy, Bart. He needs to hear the truth.”
Misery was a heavy anchor, dragging on her heart. “He thinks his son is a good person.”
“Mmmhmm. He might hope, but I doubt he believes it. He’s hurting because he thinks you let him down. You, he trusted.”
Even knowing she should shift away, she couldn’t leave the comfort of Jake’s arms. She leaned her forehead against his chest as she tried to work out what to do. How did a person choose a path when each ended in pain?
But Jake was right. Bart thought she’d betrayed him. Even worse, if he didn’t comprehend the dangers of leaving Cory in charge, Bart could lose his company.
But…oh…facing Bart would be much more difficult than merely walking away.
This time when she retreated from Jake’s embrace, he let her. She firmed her trembling lips. “You go on home. Thank you for the advice.”
“What are you planning?”
“I’ll talk to him.” God help her.
“You’re not facing him alone, sweetling.” He rose and helped her out of the booth. “I won’t butt in, but I’ve got your back.”
Her eyes blurred with tears. “Don’t be nice, damn you.” She slapped his arm, knowing she was one small second from bursting into noisy sobs.
“Right.” The lines fanning from his eyes creased, although he didn’t smile. His knuckles brushed a tear from her cheek gently enough to make her heart ache. “I’ll work on being mean.”
“Th-thank you.”
She’d broken up with him. So how could her love continue to grow and expand until her heart felt filled to bursting? How could that be?
As they wove through the tables, she spotted their destination in a booth under a bank of night-black windows. Bart and his wife, Tilly, on one side.
Cory sat on the other side. Clean-shaven, groomed, suited up and looking like a Boy Scout—except for his swollen nose still bearing yellowing bruises.
When Bart spotted her, he rose. Watching his face darken with anger was like taking a knife in the chest. When had she come to love the gruff old man? Why hadn’t she ever told him?
Her regrets were like an echo in a rock-lined valley. Too late, too late, too late.
Cory saw her and stiffened. “What the fuck is she doing here? Beat it, bitch.”
“Cory,” his mother gasped. “Language.”
Rainie pulled a shield around her heart. If she didn’t speak now, she’d never find the courage again. “Give me one minute, Bar
t, and I’ll leave you alone.” Chin up, she held the old man’s gaze.
“Spit it out, Rainie.” Bart’s jaw was tight.
Behind her, Jake stepped closer, giving her the warmth of his body. Of his support.
Cory glared, malice coating his expression.
She swallowed and forced the words out. “You never knew this, Bart, but I first met Cory when I was sixteen and living with a drug dealer.”
“A drug dealer? Sixteen?” Tilly gasped. Her face changed, worry filling it—and Rainie realized it was for her, a teenager in a bad situation. Bart’s wife had a heart as big as his.
Bart merely nodded. “I knew. Lily told me.” His bushy brows drew down. “Why would Cory have been there?”
“He came to buy drugs.” This was like wading through a swamp of ugliness with the muck of her past dragging at her feet. “Then he wanted to buy me for s-sex. Had a fight with Shi—with the dealer and Cory ended up thrown into a dumpster.”
She saw Bart and Tilly’s expressions. Complete disbelief. It hurt, and her momentum faltered.
Jake squeezed her waist. “Go on, babe,” he murmured.
God, she loved him.
She forced her gaze back to Bart. “When I got a job with you and realized Cory was your son… Well, it was an unpleasant surprise for both of us.”
“You are full of bullshit,” Cory burst out. “Bitch, I never met you before and—”
“Be quiet.” The dominance that had made Jacob Sheffield a Master in the Shadowlands filled the air.
Cory turned pale, and with a jerky movement, slid as far away in the booth as he could get.
Well. The wonder of having her own hero at her back loosened her throat, letting her continue. “The day before I quit, Cory took over the scheduling. You know Larry tends the baby when his wife works, and he needs those afternoons off. Cory ignored the requested-time-off slips and scheduled him anyway. Larry had a fit, and Cory fired him.”
“Fired Larry?” Bart looked as if someone had punched him. “He’s one of the most reliable ones there. Cory, you—”
Rainie continued, “After I wrote out Larry’s paycheck, Cory ripped it up and said he wouldn’t pay Larry, even though he’d worked all month. We argued.”