Masquerades and Charades, page 12
"Everything alright?" Connor asked her after they got Jamie settled on the couch as comfortably as they could manage.
She frowned. "With Jamie? Obviously not. What a shitty Christmas present."
"No. I mean with whoever kept calling you."
"Oh." She waved a hand in the air tiredly. "Just my stepmom again."
"You should go home. It could be serious this time."
She rolled her eyes and flopped down into an armchair at Jamie's feet. "She always swears it's serious. Trust me. It seldom is. I'll call them Christmas Day to say hi."
Connor stared at her so long she laid her head back on the chair and sighed. "What, Connor?"
"You should go home," he repeated.
She clenched her teeth. "Actually, now more than ever, I should stay right here. And quit calling where they live home. It's not my home, never has been, never will be." She didn't say out loud how much it hurt to realize she'd started to think of this, Connor's apartment, as her home, and to hear him call her parents' house her home instead.
She pushed aside that hurt for now, refocusing on Jamie, who was falling asleep under the heavy painkillers the nurses had injected him with. Why would anyone want to hurt someone like this, especially right before the holidays?
Connor walked away, to the kitchen she assumed. She closed her eyes and felt herself melting into the chair as exhaustion set in. Being in the hospital with Jamie had taken everything she had not to burst into tears. She'd refused to be one of those girls who fell apart, like drama queens who couldn't hold their shit together for the sake of the real patient there.
But now that it was over and they were all safe and together in the quiet apartment, she felt tears slip past her closed eyelids and burn hot trails down her temples into her hair. She saw again that image of Jamie, hanging unconscious in the playroom all alone, bleeding, and her chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe.
And then it hit her all in one breathless rush.
She'd screwed up and fallen in love with these two guys. After everything she'd tried to do to prevent this very possibility from happening, she'd gone and fallen in love with them anyway.
She was in so much trouble.
At some point, she heard soft pacing in the kitchen. She'd squinted her eyes open just enough to see Connor marching back and forth, quietly hissing into his phone something about increased security. His face was a brutal, hard mask of anger.
Sighing, she rolled up to her feet and went over to Jamie to brush his hair off his forehead.
He gripped her wrist so hard she cried out involuntarily. Then his eyes opened, and he instantly let go of her. "Sorry," he slurred, sounding drunk. "I'm so sorry, Madison. I didn't know… I thought it was—"
Connor rushed over to them, but Madison held up a shaking palm to stop him. "It's okay, Jamie," she managed to murmur, even smiled for his sake. "Do you need more painkillers?"
Jamie nodded then groaned, trying to reposition himself on the couch to get off his wounds. Madison attempted to help him but didn't know the safe, uninjured spots she could touch him at without further hurting him. He waved her off anyway, hissing out curse after curse until he was finally on his other side.
She didn't look at Connor as she went to the kitchen for a glass of water then returned to give Jamie more pills to swallow. Once Jamie was dosed and settling back into sleep, she went into the ground floor half bath to run cold water over her wrist. It was already starting to mark up and would probably be bruised by tomorrow.
She'd have to wear long sleeves for a while to cover it up.
"Shit," Connor muttered behind her. He stepped up beside her and examined her wrist.
She tugged her wrist free and dried it with the hanging hand towel. "You were there. He didn't mean it. I scared him."
"You sound like—"
"I know what I fucking sound like!" She closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose for control. "This isn't the abused girl scene. You know Jamie. He would never intentionally hurt me—"
"Outside of bondage, you mean?"
She glared at him on her way past and out of the bathroom. "Okay if I stay the night?"
"Of course. When is it not?"
She shrugged and started stripping off clothing on her way back to the armchair.
"Don't you want to go upstairs—?"
"Not tonight." She wanted to stay close to Jamie, to be right there in case he awoke during the night in pain and needed help.
Connor breathed out a long, loud sigh through his nose. But he brought her a comforter and a sheet to cover Jamie with. Then he trudged up the stairs to sleep alone.
***
"Fuck, man. I don't know where is okay to touch you!" Connor muttered.
"Short answer: don't. I've got this."
"Yeah, you've got this. Like you had that client."
Silence. "Are you fucking blaming me for this shit?"
"Of course not—"
"It fucking sounded like you were."
Connor growled. "Fine. Manage it all on your own, just like when we were kids." Connor started to stalk off.
"Connor, wait." Jamie paused. "I…"
"What? Say the fucking words, Jamie. What do you want? What do you need? And please, don't just say it on your own. Please make me drag every fucking word out of you first."
"Holy fuck!"
Madison debated. Should she get up and interfere? Play the mediator yet again between these two? Or just let them verbally duke it out till they either broke whatever this was between the three of them or finally worked out their issues?
She blew out a long breath through pursed lips, her stomach twisting.
"Great! You woke her up, asshole!" Jamie hissed.
“Me?!”
"Would you two please stop talking until you calm down?" she mumbled, not sure they'd even hear her.
Apparently they did, because they went silent.
She sat up, wincing as her body protested being in the chair for hours. "Sounds like you're ready for another dose, Jamie."
"No thanks. Shit makes me feel loopy." Connor helped him the final steps to the couch, where Jamie made the mistake of trying to sit down. He immediately lurched over onto his side with a curse. "On second thought, hit me with the good stuff please."
She stood up, swallowing down a curse of her own at her stiff body, found his bottle of pills and shook a couple out for him. He took them, handed back the glass of water, and then closed his eyes.
"Manners," she prompted, her lips twitching.
One corner of his mouth hitched up. "Thank you, Mistress."
"That's better." When she glanced up, she caught a fleeting smile fading from Connor's lips.
He turned with a heavy sigh towards the stairs. She hesitated then circled the couch and reached forward to grab his hand. "Hey, wait for me," she whispered.
He looked back at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows shooting up over his tired eyes. But he smiled and walked slower so she could follow him more easily up to the loft.
They fell asleep wrapped up in each other minutes later.
***
The next morning, Jamie woke them up with muffled curses as he went to the bathroom.
Connor rolled over with a groan. "God, he's worse than an overtired toddler when he's sick or hurt."
Irrational jealousy swamped her that Connor had known Jamie so much longer than she had, that he knew all these little things about Jamie that she was still learning. She pushed the jealousy away and sat up. "I should go get him more pills—"
"Stay. Let him get them himself. Baby him too much and he gets even crankier." He tugged her back down against him and wrapped his arms around her, as if his arms were giant cuffs meant to hold her prisoner.
She should have felt smothered and been annoyed. Instead, she found herself grinning and snuggling closer into him, burying her face in the hollow of his throat. His morning whiskers stabbed at her forehead, but she made no effort to move away.
Just a few more minutes of peace like this. It was all she asked for. An early Christmas present.
Actually, a real Christmas present for her would have had Jamie in here with them too. The bed had felt incomplete all night without him. She'd only slept superficially, part of her senses still listening for him downstairs, waiting for him to come up the stairs and join them.
There was a muffled thump of cushions, then Jamie muttered a curse.
Connor sighed then called out loudly, "Hey, old man. If you're going to insist on waking us up, why don't you get that ass in the kitchen and make us all some breakfast."
Madison buried her face hard against his chest to muffle her laughter.
"Asshole!" Jamie called up to him. "Actually, assholes, plural. How dare you two sleep up there without me?"
"Nothing's stopping you from dragging your royal arse up here," Connor called back.
Silence. "And fuck up your high dollar sheets with all this blood? You'd never let me live it down."
Blood? Madison sat up with a gasp. "Are you bleeding again? Did you rip a stitch?"
"Madison, he's screwing with you," Connor tried to say, but she was already out of the bed and at the top of the stairs.
Jamie looked up at her and grinned. "Ha. Knew that'd get that fine ass out of bed. Now come down here and give me a good morning kiss."
"Oh!" she groaned, going down the stairs more slowly now that she knew he was okay. "More like a good morning kick in the ass is what you deserve, you brat." Sighing, she walked over to him, grateful he was at least able to sit up this morning. Last night he couldn't even handle a little pressure on the backs of his thighs where the client had cut him.
When she was in front of him, he reached out to grab her wrist as if to pull her down, but she pulled her hand away. "Ah, ah, ah. You are being a brat, making me get up this early to take care of you. What do you say for that?"
"Aww. But I'm hurt."
"Uh huh. Still no reason to make everyone else's life hell at this hour of the morning."
He huffed out a big sigh. "Fine. Sorry, Mistress."
"Mmm hmm. And what are you going to do to make up for it?"
"I'll…uh…well, I can't bend over enough to lick your feet, which you don't like anyway. And I'm sure as hell not doing any dishes, not that there's any dirty right now. So…" He glanced down at his crotch then back up at her with a grin. "I guess I could maybe take care of a few other things for you?"
She looked over his chest and stomach, so heavily covered in bandages. "How, exactly? You're one big band-aid."
He glanced down at himself and frowned. "True."
"I know what you can do," Connor said as he strolled down the stairs while buttoning up his shirt, which he'd left untucked from a pair of sharply pressed jeans. "You can agree to tag along nicely when we go to visit her parents this week."
Madison and Jamie both asked him variations of "what?" and "huh?" at the same time.
Finished with his buttons, Connor began rolling up his cuffs to just below his elbows while on the way to the kitchen. "It's Christmas. Since neither of us is exactly welcome at our own families' homes, we're going to Madison's. They live in Nebraska somewhere, right?" He turned the coffee maker on.
"We're not going there," Madison said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Yes, we are," Connor said.
"I'm the mistress, and I say we're not."
"Actually, you said you only want to be the mistress when it's play time. This is not play time, therefore you are not the mistress right now. Which means we're going."
"Fine. Then I'll be the mistress all the time."
Connor sighed and crossed the apartment to her. He cupped her cheek. "Sweetheart, I know you don't approve of how they run their relationship. But that's no reason not to go see your parents for Christmas. Plus, your dad's sick. You need to see him."
Her throat tightened painfully. It was hard to breathe. "Okay, then I'm going alone."
He stared down at her for a few seconds then his hand fell away. "Are you mad at us?"
"No. Why?"
"Then why wouldn't you want us to meet your parents? If you're uncomfortable telling them about our relationship, then we'll just go as your friends."
"But you've got the club to run—"
"We close down for the holidays anyway."
"And Jamie's hurt and in no shape to be stuck in a car for hours—"
"I can lie in the backseat on my side," Jamie said.
Frowning, she looked from one lover to the other. "Now you're ganging up on me?"
Connor made a little humming noise deep in his throat of approval, his gaze turning heated and suggestive. Jamie grinned wickedly.
She sighed. She was never going to win an argument against the both of them. She loved them too damn much.
So it looked like she was going to be visiting her parents. Yay.
***
It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Sioux Falls to the miniscule town of Wakefield, Nebraska, population around two thousand. The day before Christmas, Jamie laid in the backseat the entire way, managing not to whine much more than the occasional grunt or muffled groan when he had to shift position or they hit a bump that rocked his back against the seat back.
Madison wished she could nap through the drive. But she was too nervous. Her parents were not stupid. They would surely pick up on the fact that she was sleeping with both her so-called friends. And her dad had a sizable gun collection.
She'd warned her mom that she was bringing two male friends, and not to worry about making up the guest room, because they would be staying at a hotel instead. Mom had tried to argue that she could make up the couch and an inflatable bed for the guys. But Madison was firm. Having a hotel room would give them the excuse to leave quickly each day if necessary. And she knew she'd need some physical distance between her parents each day after several hours of hanging out with them. She always did.
This time, though, she was braced for disaster. She had no idea how her dad would react after meeting her friends. What she did know was not to expect him to curb his treatment of her mother, not even in front of guests. She remembered the one time she'd brought Kate home for a Thanksgiving visit two years ago. Kate had been forced to leave the house and go for a walk more than a few times in order to resist killing her father after hearing the way he talked to her mother. They'd barely managed to even get through Thanksgiving dinner. By the end of the trip, Kate had apologized but sworn she could never visit Madison's parents again. She really hated Madison's father. And Madison couldn't blame her, because Madison knew she should hate him too.
But how did you hate someone who treated you like a princess?
By the time they pulled into the driveway of her parents' small brick home and parked, Madison was already exhausted, her stomach tied into knots, her hands sweaty and clenched into fists.
"This is it?" There was no judgment to Connor's voice. He was literally checking to be sure he'd put in the address correctly into the Google Maps app on his phone.
Madison nodded, opening her door. "Let's get this over with. Oh, and three rules for this visit. One, do not correct my father, no matter what he says or does. If he pisses you off like he has every other friend I've ever brought over, just take a walk outside to cool down. You can even wait in the car. Or we can leave if necessary."
"Second rule?" Connor asked quietly.
"No BDSM talk. Not even in a kidding around kind of way. They're just Christian enough to get pissed off about that kind of stuff.
"And three?" Jamie asked, his mouth a thin line.
"None of us are sleeping together, as far as my parents are to know. So absolutely no PDA."
"PDA?" Jamie asked.
"Public display of affection. Consider everything my father can see as public. As long as we are anywhere within eyesight of my father, including looking out his windows, nobody touch each other no matter what. My dad has a huge gun collection, and he's morning coffee buddies with the local target range, Connor, he goes there so often."
Jamie's throat worked as he gulped and he and Connor shared a dark look.
Good. They were taking her warnings seriously.
If they all survived this visit, she'd consider it a success.
She got out of the car, resisting the urge to turn and help Jamie out of the backseat, knowing her parents were probably watching out the windows.
Sure enough, a minute later her mother stepped out the house's front door, all smiles. "Hey, baby! You came! Was the drive okay? How were the roads?"
"All good," Madison said, and though she was a nervous wreck, she was also pretty glad to see her mother.
Technically, this was her stepmom. But her birth mother had always insisted on acting like they were more sisters than mother and daughter. Her stepmom, whom her father had married when Madison was only six-years old, had always acted like a real mother to Madison. When Madison had life questions, she called her stepmom.
Madison circled the car and climbed the wooden steps to the home's front porch so she could give her mom a hug.
"Missed you," Mom said, hugging her fiercely against her ample bosom.
Madison buried her face in her mother's curly blonde shoulder-length hair and closed her eyes, sending out a fervent prayer to the universe that everything would go okay during this visit.
"How's Dad?" Madison muttered, noticing how her father still hadn't come outside to greet her. Usually he'd be right here on the porch to hug her too. Was he angry that she hadn't come for a visit in a while?
She made a face. "Not good. I have to help him pull up his pants after he goes to the bathroom now."
Madison froze, her entire body going cool as if someone had just turned on an air conditioner beside her.
Her father, Mr. Gun Packing Motorcycle Man, needed help pulling up his own pants now? Her mind couldn't even wrap around the idea. When Dad was having a bad day with his health, he might cough a lot, maybe even barf if his coughing triggered his gag reflex. But he just got cranky. He didn't get helpless. Even the few times when he'd been briefly hospitalized—usually in the transition from winter to spring when the change in weather tended to make him develop short bouts of pneumonia—he'd always been able to sit up and joke around like it was all just her mother's overprotection forcing him to be in the hospital.
