Chapter 6

Juan and I have both held memberships to Sweet Abrasion since it opened ten years ago, and in the past, stepping through its doors has felt like entering a second home. Tonight, though, scanning the familiar and new faces inside the kink club didn't fill me with the usual sense of anticipation. I felt… restless.

"Problem, hermano?" Juan murmured next to me, his fingers hooked into the waistband of his leather pants.

I absently twisted the bracelet on my wrist, the green one I'd chosen to indicate that I was here to play, not just to observe, and shook my head. "No problem."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "Hm."

I chuckled. "What's that supposed to mean?'

He held his hands up. "Nada. Nothing."

I huffed out a breath. "Liar."

He grinned. "Okay, you twisted my arm so I'll tell you. I'm not sure you really want to be here."

"Are you serious?" I asked, laughing outright. "Brother, you're the one who almost literally twisted my arm just to get me here."

Juan shrugged. "Yeah, well, you need it. I stand by that. I'm just saying I'm not sure you want it. Why is that?"

I frowned, turning back to face the room. "I want it."

I did. I was horny as hell lately, and even though we'd arrived early—since Juan had talked me into coming before the place typically got busy so we could catch up with some friends and maybe grab some food—I already saw a few boys I'd played well with before.

And true, none of them really excited me at the moment, but there were some new faces, too. I was sure I could find someone to scene with, especially once it got busier. Not to stroke my own ego, but finding a partner generally wasn't a problem for me. Doing construction since I was a teenager had always kept me fit, even now in my thirties when things were definitely starting to slow down a bit and I'd already, much to my dismay, found a couple gay hairs hiding among my dark brown.

The boys never seemed to mind, though, and my natural height and strong physique generally appealed to their image of a Daddy, too.

I'd been told my face wasn't a problem, either.

Speaking of, I could feel Juan's gaze practically burning into my skin as he stared at me.

I turned to face him again. "What?"

"What are you thinking so hard about?"

I shoved aside my odd restlessness and swirled my hand in front of my face, grinning at him. "My pretty face."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, Hemsworth. But dime, what are you really thinking about?"

It wasn't so much what I was thinking about as what I was trying not to think about.

There were a fair number of boys and other subs already here, all with different body types and different demeanors. Some of them were sexy as hell, and at least a few were definitely my type.

Sweet.

Needy.

Capable, but still hoping for guidance.

A little bit unsure, but still determined, resilient, perseverant.

"Fuck," I muttered, scrubbing at my hair. Which I still hadn't had time to cut.

My type in the past had been much less specific.

My type now was one-hundred-fucking-percent Owen, and not only could I not have him, I wouldn't even recognize him if he was here… and that was starting to really, really bother me.

I wanted more with him. I wanted something real. Something that, even if it could never be a romantic relationship, would include comforting him in person. Making sure he ate his vegetables because I'd cooked them for him.

Holding him.

Learning the scent of his shampoo and the sound of his laugh.

Juan nudged me. "Maybe switch your bracelet out, no? No need to scene if your head is somewhere else."

"No," I said, giving myself a mental shake. "I want to. You're right. I need it."

Because I could want until the cows came home, but it wasn't going to happen, and maybe having something else, someone else, to focus on, even just for a night, would finally help me be truly okay with that.

"Hm," Juan said, being an annoying shit, as my phone vibrated in my pocket.

My pulse picked up. I'd muted it, with only a few contacts tagged to let notifications through the do-not-disturb setting. Juan, who was here with me. My mom. Juan's parents. But it would be out of character for any of them to reach out on a Saturday night. Not unless there was an emergency.

And also… Owen.

"I need to step out," I told Juan, tapping my vibrating pocket.

His eyebrows rose, eyes glinting with interest. "Oh?"

The club didn't treat us like children and require us to hand over our phones before entry, but they did have a very strictly enforced rule about not using our phones. There was a zero tolerance, one-strike policy regarding pulling them out anywhere past the main doors. If I wanted to check the notification, I'd have to go back out to the lobby… and Juan knew it.

He also knew I always set it to DND when we came, and how few contacts I had set to override that.

He grinned. "My parents, or tu mamá?"

I huffed out a laugh. If he actually thought it was family, he'd be following me out to the lobby. But for all his occasional lack of boundaries, he knew when to respect the ones that mattered and had never pushed me for details about Owen, even though he'd made it clear he knew that the boy—or at least, that somebody important to me—existed.

It was probably why he was my best friend.

"I'll just catch an Uber home," he called out after me. "Have fun!"

I was shaking my head, a smile on my face, when I finally got through the doors and was able to pull my phone out. But it immediately turned into a frown.

SATURDAY 8:02 PM

Daddy? I need you.

By habit, I started to tap out a reply, but then got my head out of my ass and, for the first time since he'd burst into my life and showed me how much I'd been lacking, hit the call button instead, bringing it to my ear.

Owen answered on the first ring.

"Daddy?"

The word was shaky, followed by a little hiccup that sent a strange feeling rolling through me, euphoria that he'd actually reached out combined with a white-hot heat very close to anger over how upset he clearly was, the two conflicting emotions clashing together and leaving me almost shaking.

Or maybe that was simply from hearing my boy's voice for the first time.

Owen was calling me Daddy.

It was different than seeing it on the screen, his voice a little lower than I'd imagined, the word itself trembling like a new spring leaf.

But he was obviously upset, and any joy I felt at taking our contact to this new level was obliterated at the unexpected force of how much I needed to fix that for him. How much I wanted to completely end whatever or whoever had caused him to feel that way, even though I wasn't typically a violent man.

"Baby? Are you okay?"

I headed for the exit, already pulling the keys to my truck out.

"Yeah," Owen said shakily. "Um, I mean, no. But I'm not… I'm not hurt or anything."

"Tell me what happened."

"Um, there's a dog?"

I hit the button on my key fob, unlocking the doors to my truck.

"Okay," I said, my heart rate calming just a bit. The fact that he wasn't hurt soothed the surprisingly violent urges I'd been having, but I was still concerned. Confused, but concerned. "Tell me about the dog, sweetheart."

"It's, um, it's a beagle. I don't know how old. And I was…" He paused and pulled in a shuddering breath, then started again, sounding a little more focused. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't know who else to call. I was walking home with Tyler, and someone just blasted through a red light and hit the dog, then kept right on going."

His breath hitched again, a quiet little sob that tore my heart into two separate pieces, each of them belonging to this kind-hearted boy.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," I said. "Is it, ah, does the dog have a collar with a tag?"

"No."

"Okay. And is it…"

"It's alive," he said quickly, "but I think it's really, really hurt. And none of us have a car to take it to the vet, and Tyler said it didn't look like it was going to make it anyway and he was supposed to—I mean, we were both supposed to meet up with Jacob and Ryan and go to some, um, some party on campus tonight. I told you, remember?"

"I remember, sweetheart," I murmured.

His breath hitched again. "Yeah, well, um, so he didn't want to stay and that's fine? I mean, it's not his responsibility, and it's not yours either, but I just, I can't leave the dog."

His pitch got higher and higher, that moment of calm focus he'd had earlier totally dissolving as his breathing became more erratic, his voice filling with something that sounded close to panic.

"But I don't know what to do," he blurted, "And you said… you said…"

Somehow, from dozens of different small moments all building on each other, passing comments and telling reactions, I'd gotten the impression over the last few months that Owen wasn't used to people being there for him. That he didn't expect it. Certainly never complained about having to tackle everything life threw at him virtually on his own.

And it broke my heart all over again, because of course I knew what he was trying to say. What he'd been brave enough to text, but couldn't seem to bring himself to voice.

"I said if you needed me, to call. And I'm so proud that you did," I said when he couldn't go on, starting up the truck. "Where are you, sweetheart?"

I got nothing but silence for a moment, and then, sounding genuinely shocked, he asked, "You're, um, you're really coming?"

I cleared my throat, scrubbing at my eyes when they stung. "Yes. Of course. Always."

"Oh."

It was more a quiet exhale than an actual word, but it felt like a fucking revelation. What the hell had I been doing here at the club? Of course it had felt wrong. None of those boys were mine, and as crazy as it sounded, I'd rather simply not have sex than give up Owen or try to convince myself I wanted to hear "Daddy" from any other boy.

He pulled in another of those shuddery breaths that made my chest ache, and then gave me his location. And while I drove across the city fueled by justified rage at the hit-and-run driver and sympathy for the dog that my boy was standing guard over, underneath that was something deeper.

Something almost exultant.

Because as horrible as the reason was, in just a few minutes, I'd finally, finally, have Owen in my arms. And then I'd move heaven and fucking earth to make sure the little beagle made it or was able to pass peacefully, and that my boy knew he never had to feel alone again.