Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Griffin Lawson

M aybe I shouldn't have driven him home last night.

I caught him looking all the time.

That was a problem. Or rather, the layer of composure that'd been peeled off his every expression— that was my problem. Because when Tracy showed what he was feeling, I was confronted with what I'd done to him up until I had left.

I'd hurt him.

A hurt Little or Middle was enough of a kick in the gut. A hurt Tracy …?

I assumed it was our tentative ceasefire that'd allowed him to lower his guard, which was another kick someplace sensitive because it showed how my old behavior had put him on edge. In my bitterness, I'd been so fucking careless. I'd turned the workplace of his dreams into a nightmare in which he'd had to walk on eggshells.

I did my best to keep my distance as soon as the restaurant opened its doors, but it wasn't easy. Before the first dinner rush, I spotted him in the window of the door leading to the kitchen. He instantly grew apprehensive about being caught, but he smiled and waved a little.

When I took a quick smoke break out back, he poked his head out and asked, "Am I stressing you out? You said you only smoke when you're stressed."

When he came out to the bar to hand over side dishes and apps, he made awkward attempts at figuring out where we stood.

"I'm so glad we're friends now. We are friends, right? I mean, at least, I stand a chance at becoming your friend? Fuck, shit, ignore me. This isn't the time."

"For table six, medium-rare, sorry about before. I won't bother you during work. It's too much, isn't it? It's too much. You don't have to answer."

"The grilled vegetables on the side for ticket fourteen. Can I get you anything? Water? Soda? Asking as your coworker, not a future work friend."

During my meal break, he shuffled over to me once more, apologetic about his questions, and asked if I was sure I had nothing against him.

I couldn't eat. By the end of the night, my stomach was chock-full of guilt and discomfort, and I wanted to get out of here as fast as possible.

The issue was never a sub—or a Dom, for that matter—feeling out of sorts, needing reassurance, or struggling to find solid ground. The issue was what'd caused them to lose their footing. And that was me. Tracy was all over the place with his nerves and anxiousness, and my responses probably weren't helping. We'd been fully booked all night, so I'd had to keep shit short and to the point, and I knew what that could do to someone in a vulnerable mind-set.

It was the equivalent of sending a text to a Little with a short "OK" instead of "Of course, little one" with at least two emojis.

When I came home that night, I blew out a heavy breath and knew what I had to do. I had to sit him down and talk shit out properly—and I had to be honest. Like I'd been outside the bar of our munch.

I clearly also needed to explain to him that when the restaurant was packed with guests, I didn't have the time to apply the right tone that would give him the comfort he needed.

But my fucking God, I wanted to. I wanted to trap him in a tight hug, apologize for the pain I had caused, and…

I swallowed and looked around my kitchen and living room. Despite how much I loved this place, it was a reflection of my lonely existence. It was too dark and empty. Too much work that needed to get done.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, beyond exhausted and unable to roll with the punches. Hell, I was still processing seeing him at the bar, discovering he was kinky, and finding out how many of his kinks lined up with mine. It was fucking surreal.

Even more so when I forced myself to acknowledge what Alessia had not-so-subtly hinted at for so long. That Tracy had a crush on me. His uncertainties and awkwardness tonight had confirmed how much my reactions meant to him. How much of an impact my behavior made.

It was terrifying. My stomach was a damn mess. What-ifs crept forward, dreams I'd killed off started to come back to life, and maybes and hope tightened their grip around my chest.

"I hope you'll consider joining…"

I felt queasy with longing and this…this…unsettledness. Shit was moving too fast, while not going fast enough. Everything was up in the air, and I hated it. In my line of work, I had to think fast and be prepared for constant and swift changes. And I loved it there. There . Not here. Not for my personal life. Not for emotions and relationships and family.

I had to join the event, and I had to talk to the boy.

I had to stop being so goddamn scared of seeing another relationship crash and burn.

It was easier said than done, though. At this point in my life, I wanted shit settled. I wanted that person I shared everything with. Tracy was likely hopped up on a Little crush, eager and anxious, while thinking in terms of "Let's give it a go!" and "Let's see what happens!"

Most of us were like that when we were young, right? We didn't think that far ahead. We were more comfortable trying things out, and if it didn't work, eh, no biggie.

Maybe I'd been born a jaded old bastard, because I'd never jumped up and down in joy when someone had taken an interest in me—and I wasn't doing that now either. If that made me conceited or just aware of my own appeal, I didn't know. But going by experience, I'd never struggled to find someone for a short-term thing. Countless men had wanted to submit to me. Crushes had been a dime a dozen. But then … After that? Nothing. No one stuck around for long.

Tracy probably wouldn't either, if we ended up starting something.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I slumped down on my couch and just stared unseeingly at my TV.

I didn't turn it on.

I kicked my feet up on a moving box.

Join the event or stay back?

I was going to join, but it might very well become my biggest regret at some point. Because Tracy wasn't Charlie. Tracy was real. He evoked strong reactions in me—always had. And he wasn't a "down the road" guy. He wanted to jump. If he had a dream, he went for it.

Snap the fuck out of it.

I winced and took a swig of my beer.

What was wrong with me?

No matter how painful failure could be, there was only one fucking route for potentially finding someone. And it started with let's try . Nothing more, nothing less. What if, to change things up a bit, I greeted Tracy with a smile tomorrow rather than some broody fucking frown?

What if I cracked a joke instead of acting like a sad fucker all the time?

He and Adam had a great relationship. While Adam hadn't picked up on Tracy's awkwardness today—or heard any of the questions—he'd noticed Tracy was unusually chatty when he dropped off orders at the grill. But instead of worrying about it, he'd leaned close to me and said, "Remember when we were young and could do everything at once? I miss those days."

I didn't miss them, but I did miss being happy.

I arrived earlier at work the next day because we'd had a lunch service today, and there wasn't enough time to get the kitchen ready unless everyone helped out.

Coho's lunch services came and went on a month-to-month schedule announced on Instagram, and it was only two or three days a week. We didn't have enough staff for more than that. The lunch chef was good, as long as he didn't go off-script.

Tracy seemed to be in a great mood, I noted. He wiped down the surfaces a final time and declared us ready while Adam and I went all in with food prep. We helped the cooks chop vegetables and prepare marinades, and?—

"Can I take my break at eight tonight?" Tracy asked, coming over to Adam's station. "I'll make sure Taylor can cover for me if we're busy, but I don't think it'll be a problem. I checked the reservations, and we only have three at eight and one at eight-fifteen."

"Go for it." Adam really trusted the kid. "What happens at eight?"

"Madigan and Abel are having dinner here," Tracy responded with a smile. "They're bringing three friends from the East Coast, so I'm gonna meet them."

That was interesting.

"I take it this is a kinky thing?" Adam guessed. "Just be careful. I will call your mom if I think you're taking too many risks."

I snorted under my breath.

Tracy laughed. "Um, thanks ? But I'm a grown man, and I'm not sure you know what kink means."

"I know my own brothers," Adam retorted, referring to Alex and Jameson. "If it weren't for Madigan being there, I woulda sent in a rescue party for you and Abel."

I rolled my eyes. Good thing he was mostly joking.

The lull in the service that occurred before eight o'clock worked for me too. Adam and I could both take our breaks, and he went into the kitchen while I ate my meal behind the bar. Where I could spy on Tracy joining Madigan and Abel.

Madigan and I got to exchange a few words too, when he ordered drinks at the bar.

"So who are the mystery friends from the East Coast?" I asked, biting into my burger.

Someone Tracy might play with?

"Tardy is what they are." He checked his watch. "They were just gonna get settled at the inn…" He shrugged it off and returned his attention to me. "They're friends from DC—the Little and Abel got involved in kink together back in the day. You'll meet them on Saturday. Colt's a riot. You'll like him. He's a primal Daddy like you—Sadist, too. Lucas is also a Daddy, and Kit's the li'l brat."

So, not someone Tracy might play with?

"Are they a closed triad?" I pressed.

I was a fucking dumbass.

Madigan smirked. "Why, you interested, buddy?"

I threw him a look and chewed my food.

"Yeah, they're closed," he chuckled.

Okay. Cool.

Good.

"How long's your break?" he asked next. "I'd be happy to introduce you now—when they show up."

No, Saturday was better. "I can't really leave the grill. I'll just be over here studying Tracy in the wild."

That was honest enough.

Madigan lifted his brows before a lazy smile took over. "I'll be damned. Abel's rooting for you two."

Was he, now? So Tracy had talked about me.

Damn if that didn't make me feel good.

As if sensing my watching him, Tracy looked over from where he and Abel were sitting, and he smiled carefully. He was a bit surprised too. It was usually me catching him staring.

I smiled back, and the reward was instant. He looked so relieved, and his smile widened.

The East Coast kinksters arrived a beat later, distracting Madigan and Abel—and Tracy too. Abel handled introductions, and I watched Tracy and—Kit, was it? They shook hands and fell into immediate chatting with Abel. Madigan and the two other Doms were all smiles too.

Alessia came out from the kitchen, presumably to make sure everything was running smoothly, and she spoke to the servers.

Soon enough, the kinky crowd got seated, and Tracy and Abel appeared to want to handle the orders. Tracy talked quietly to Aurora, one of our servers, who skipped their table. For now, at least. Tracy had about twenty minutes left on his break.

Which…wouldn't be spent eating if he was going to play server to everyone.

First, he went over to the hostess desk to grab tablets for everyone. Second, he came over to the bar to fill a drink order.

"Hi, Chef," he said happily. "I already like Kit! I hope they visit a lot. But Colt seems scary. Kinda like you."

I chuckled under my breath, having heard that before.

"Don't forget to eat, kid."

"I won't," he promised. "I already explained to them that I'm gonna grab my food right away."

That was good.

"Want me to fix you up a burger or somethin'?" I asked.

He paused filling a beer, and he chewed on his lip. "You'd do that for me?"

What?

It was a burger, not a kidney.

"You gotta eat," I pointed out. Screw it, I'd get started right away. I slid off my stool and plated whatever was left from my own burger for later. "No pickles, right?"

"Right." He stared at me while I threw a patty on the grill and grabbed a bun. "Thank you, Sir."

When he had all the drinks for the East Coast visitors—and himself—he went back to their table. And when I glanced at them over my shoulder, I saw Tracy was whispering something to Abel, which caused the boy to look my way.

Now what?

Abel beamed.

I furrowed my brow and looked back to the grill again.

Damn brats.

Coho had enough loyal fans who enjoyed a late dinner to always fill our last service. Things got busy at nine o'clock, and Adam and I lost the next hour by the grill. Burgers to perfection, always at medium, with melted cheese, freshly made buns, crisp lettuce, caramelized onions, and Adam's Coho dressing. At least, that was his signature burger. We had mastered steaks and brisket too, not to mention the catch of the day for me, served like fish and chips with our own twist. Lightly breaded and seared, plenty of melted butter and lemon drizzled on top, roasted potatoes, in a basket with fake newspaper wrapping. Three dipping sauces.

Whenever Tracy came out to finish tickets, his gaze wandered over to Madigan's dinner party—and it made me hope, for Tracy's sake, that he got to experience more of this. His meal break hadn't been enough. I'd watched them earlier, and Tracy had seemed so happy chatting with Abel and Kit.

One of the Tops—Colt, I was fairly sure—came over to the bar when Tracy and Adam got one of the last orders ready.

Tracy split his attention and glanced at Colt. "Is everything okay, Sir?"

"More than okay, little one," Colt replied. "Just wanted to give my compliments to the chef. I'm not sure even Texas can compete with that brisket."

Adam deserved all the praise for that one, and he turned around and smiled. "It's my pride and joy. Glad you liked it, man."

Meanwhile, I was stuck on Colt calling Tracy little one. A term of endearment many Daddies used in our community, whether it was a friend, partner, or a very new friend of a partner. But envy still struck me because I wasn't in that place yet. I wasn't calling Tracy that, and I fucking wanted to.

"You should try the brisket leftover sandwich sometime," Tracy urged. "We serve it for lunch. It's so good. Adam soaks the bread super fast before throwing it on the grill."

"Damn." Colt lifted his brows, visibly interested. "I'll be sure to do that before we fly home."

Tracy beamed, pleased as punch.

He was too goddamn adorable. So expressive, so eager to please.

He made me hunger.