37. Dylan

CHAPTER 37

DYLAN

After that night, everything changed.

For the better.

For the first time in a long time, I felt comfortable in my skin, even though my skin itself was far from comfortable. Bruises shaped like Alex’s fingers decorated my ass and the back of my thighs, aching every time I sat down or lay on my back and I’d spent a fair amount of time on my back since that day. On my back, my side, my front…there was no position, no room, no way Alex wasn’t content to take me and claim me.

I found myself subconsciously reaching up and tracing my fingertips over the bite mark on the back of my neck. The shape of his mouth was one of my favorite memories, and I’d begun to treat the presence of it like a security blanket. Whenever I found myself unsure or uncomfortable in the following days, the tooth-shaped bruises served as a reminder I wasn’t as lost as I felt. I’d dug my nails into the outline left by his canine when I asked him about going back to work, and I had my finger against it again while I shifted my weight from side to side in the entry area to The Black Door.

I’d worried that me going back to bartending was going to be the start of a fight. Alex had made it clear I didn’t need to work, that I could waste away the days in his house and play music to my heart’s content. If I got a show, I got a show, if not…he would be my captive audience of one. I appreciated—more than I had words for—the safety that offer allowed me, but I wanted to be back in the world again. Life with Alex was a bubble, a nice one, but a bubble nonetheless.

Venturing out for lunch with Brooks and Tate had resulted in some of the best and most emotional sex of my life, and I crossed my fingers that the more we let the outside in, the better things would get for us. And it was with that in mind that I’d proposed the idea of going back to bartending. Alex hadn’t loved the idea, but he wanted me happy and work made me happy.

It was a Thursday afternoon, hours before the club was set to open, and Alex had called in another favor to see about me getting my job back there. I’d asked about going back to Tryst, only to be met with an emphatic no . I had opened my mouth to argue because the fight felt familiar and safe. I’d spent my entire life fighting for the things that meant the most to be, but I’d barely gotten one word out before realizing Tryst meant nothing to me at all.

The Black Door didn’t mean much either, but it was a close alignment to the things in my life that did matter, now. Alex being one of them, the things he made me feel, a close second. Though, I imagined the two of them were much the same.

“Mr. Rivers.” I looked up at the sound of my name, a wave of calm washing over me at the sight of the six-foot-tall and cinnamon red-haired owner of The Black Door. “Good to see you again.”

I strained my ears to see if there was any hint of condescension in her tone, but all I found was sincerity and kindness.

“Just Dylan,” I said, dropping my hand away from the mark on my neck.

Her mouth quirked into a sly smirk. “Just Dylan. Come on in, let’s chat.”

I swallowed my nerves and followed her into The Black Door. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen the place empty with the lights on, but I hadn’t had enough time to get used to the duality of the space. Being there at night when it was packed full of people, the air had a different weight to it. During the day, it was any other bar with glasses to clean and fruit to cut. The scent of sanitizer lingered in the air, and I fought against the way my dick stirred.

Of all the things I’d learned about myself by being with Alex, the near Pavlovian response between my legs whenever it came to cleaning up a mess was the least welcome. Popping a boner while wiping down the bar at the end of a shift was less than ideal, let alone the way it hurt and stretched when it happened in private.

The day he’d fucked me on the floor, we’d both fallen asleep, but Alex had passed out like a prince in a fairytale. He didn’t even stir when I untangled myself from his arms, and when I bent beside him on my hands and knees to scrub my cum out of his carpet, the cleaner thick and potent in our nostrils…not so much as a snore or shift in position.

Me, on the other hand…

I’d gotten hard immediately, a feat considering the protest in my balls as it happened. Alex had told me I didn’t even realize I was coming half the time during that encounter, and judging by how much the new erection had hurt me, I believed him.

“Make me another one of those martinis you’re so famous for,” Athena said, climbing onto a bar stool and folding her arms up beneath her, resting her chin in her hand.

Everything about Athena Smith radiated sex and control, but in the least threatening way possible. There were plenty of people who were afraid of her, but she’d only ever given me scary vibes in the way an older sister would.

“I’d hardly say I’m famous for them,” I said, making my way behind the bar.

“You’d hardly say a lot about yourself, I’m sure.”

I didn’t know what she meant, so instead of answering, I coated a frosted martini glass with vermouth, then reached for the gin. Making a good martini was simple. I didn’t think there was any real trick to it, but I went through the steps in my head same as always. Same as Marigold had taught me the night she hired me at Tryst.

Maybe Tryst did mean something.

Or maybe it was just Marigold.

Sighing inwardly, I set the finished drink on a coaster and gave Athena a weak shrug of my shoulders.

“Don’t look so confident, Dylan. It’s off-putting.”

My cheeks burned.

Athena raised the glass, sniffed it, then took a sip. After she swallowed, her tongue darted out, licking some gin from the corner of her mouth with a surprised hum.

“This has Marigold all over it,” she said.

There wasn’t a question or an accusation in her words. Just fact.

“She taught me.”

“I remember.” Athena slid the unfinished drink and the coaster toward my side of the bar. “How long has it been since you were behind a bar?”

I didn’t have an immediate answer to her question. Time had blurred into a haze of physical therapy and sex, the days and nights sometimes unrecognizable from each other. I’d spent the first week after my accident so angry. Angry at Alex, at myself…and then I’d gotten angry at the nameless man who’d drugged me in the first place…Many of the days I found myself ass up in Alex’s playroom had ended with a rash of tears working through all of those feelings.

Some of them made sense and some of them didn’t. There was guilt and shame and misery, but running under all of it was a steady and resilient love for Alex that had continued to grow with each hour we spent together. Eventually, like a balm, the fondness I felt for Alex and the way he cared for me in return had smoothed over all the sharp edges of the other feelings and I’d started to feel whole again.

“Weeks,” I said when I realized I still hadn’t given her an answer. I could go back and check the calendar to see how many physical therapy appointments I’d been to, but I was fairly certain the question wasn’t that important.

“And you didn’t forget how.”

“I’ll never forget how to make a martini,” I told her.

Athena tilted her head to the side, red waves washing over her shoulder and tickling down her upper arm.

“You’re involved with Alex Burke now,” she said, again not a question.

“Yes.”

“Normally, there’s a rather strict no fraternization with members rule.”

This was it, the rejection I’d been waiting for. Another door that I’d managed to get open, now closing in my face. It was hard to look at it without weighing the loss against the loss I’d have incurred by being the man my father wanted me to be instead of the man I knew I was.

“Right,” I said, tucking my chin toward my chest. “I understand.”

“Normally,” she repeated, climbing off the bar stool and smoothing down the hem of her short black shirt. “I’ll get you back on the schedule, but whatever you and Mr. Burke get up to doesn’t happen while you’re on the clock.”

The heat at the back of my neck had to be shock.

I had my job back.

Thankfully, instinct took over and I nodded at her, eyes wide. The door I was sure had closed was open again, and I found a glimmer of hope. Things with Alex were perfect and I had a job again, and a piano I could play whenever I wanted. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.

Maybe it would all be enough.

“It won’t,” I promised, coming out from behind the bar.

I wanted to hug her, but that wouldn’t have been professional in the slightest.

“Alright then, Just Dylan,” she said with a soft smile. “I’ll have Grant make sure to text you an updated schedule.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’ll be good to have you back.” Athena gestured toward the front door, summarily dismissing me.

I stumbled over my own feet, in a state of shock over how easy it had been to get my job back. Alex was the one to get it for me in the first place and I hadn’t been there long at all before getting hurt.

“Is this because of Alex?” I asked, righting myself and double-checking to make sure my shoelaces were tied.

“Is what because of him?” Athena arched a finely drawn-on eyebrow toward her lush red waves.

“That you’re giving me another chance.”

She studied me carefully, taking a measured breath like she was trying to buy herself time while deciding how she wanted to answer me. I was just about to tell her never mind when she spoke, “You know, my best friend wouldn’t be married to the love of his life if he hadn’t gotten a second chance, so maybe it’s just me paying it forward.”

Of all the answers she could have given me, that was the last I’d expected.

“Oh,” I said, a little dumbfounded.

“Or maybe it’s just because I have a soft spot for silly men who don’t know which way is up.”

“Either way, I’m not complaining,” I assured her.

“I didn’t think you were, Just Dylan.” Athena smiled and tilted her head toward the door. “Keep an eye out for a schedule from Grant, alright?”

“I will. Thank you again.”

She didn’t bother with a closing, just offered me a nod before turning and striding back toward the hallway that held the door to her office.

With my heart slamming around my chest like it was trying to break out, I practically ran onto the sidewalk, bending over and bracing my hands against my knees once the door closed behind me. I was dizzy with excitement and the promise of what this meant, and I was anxious to call Tate and tell him, but more than that…

My phone vibrated before I could even pull it out of my pocket to dial, and Alex’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey,” I greeted, still out of breath.

“How did it go?”

“You obviously know or you wouldn’t be calling me five seconds after I got my job back.”

Alex chuckled. “Congratulations are in order then.”

“It’s just a couple days,” I said.

“I know.”

“Of course you do.” I straightened up and tipped my head back, finding a cloud shaped like a cat floating across the sky. “Thank you for this.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You let me go back to work,” I said.

“It’s still your choice.”

My heart immediately settled, the pinpricks of nerves that had stabbed themselves against my palms retracting and going still.

“And I choose you still,” I told him. “Every time, Alex.”

He hummed happily, smile loud in his voice. “Come home, pet. Let’s celebrate.”