Chapter 34

THIRTY-FOUR

brAXTON

" S o, are there any further questions, or would you like to proceed with the testing?" Doctor Sprague asks me.

Aella turns toward me on the couch.

The doctor spent the entire appointment discussing my past and things I struggle with, only to tell me what he suspects I have. Everything has been overwhelming, and now he wants me to answer him.

It feels like I have to work under pressure, which I'm not great at.

The doctor narrows his eyes at me. "You don't have to know, you know? Some people come here, and I tell them what I think, and that's enough for them. If you want this to end right here, it can. You do not have to go any further."

"Autism," I say out loud, breathing life into the term.

Aella smiles at me. "Autism."

I heave a breath into my lungs and hold it, hoping it'll help the racing heart in my chest calm the fuck down.

"And the tests…" I trail off, giving the doctor enough space to interject.

He takes the bait, nodding. "Will be a lot, I'll admit. Some are for me and you to do together, others I'll have you take home. You must do them in your space, on your terms, wherever you feel the most comfortable."

Aella tries to reach for my hand. I know she can tell I'm on edge, and I am. The lights overhead are overloading as fuck. The buzz they're giving off alone drives me to the limits of my sanity. Not to mention how bright they are. My brain can't process her touch on top of everything else. Not right now. So I pull away from her.

She doesn't mean to look hurt, but I catch the flicker before she stows it.

"And when I get it all done, I'll have a formal diagnosis?" I ask him.

He nods. "Yes, you will. You'll then begin a journey of understanding yourself. This could be good for you. To learn why and how you function. It'll only help you make accommodations for yourself in ways you didn't know you needed to."

I nod, swallowing. "Like, what?"

"Like…" He looks around, then up at the incessant lights. "Like how I know these lights have to be bothering you, so you'll know that about yourself once you learn yourself and learn your autism and how you tick. So, you could come in and see them immediately and ask me to shut them off. You'll learn your limits and le arn not to get near them. Then, you'll also learn how to better cope on the flip side if you can't control the situation. Knowing yourself and being in touch with each facet of yourself is the key to making accommodations and letting those around you know how to accommodate you."

I look down at the floor, lean forward, put my head in my hands, and focus on my breathing.

How it feels.

How it sounds.

"This is a lot," the doctor says, sighing.

"It is." I look up at him. "For my entire life, I thought I was odd. That I was fucked up. A freak. I begged God to make me normal—to make the littlest things, like too many noises in the classroom, not make me want to rock back and forth and scream. But God never listened. I thought I was just born wrong, ya' know? Like I was just the product of some fucked up cosmic joke. Now, I know that…"

"You're not a freak," the doctor says knowingly, nodding. There's a look on his face like I'm not the first one to feel this way. I realize that I'm just a different normal.

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "No. You're not a freak. You're going to find—if you choose to go forward with this process—that you're going to learn where you've been masking to be more ‘ normal.' "

My brows raise. "What?"

He nods. "It's typical. Neurodivergent individuals—like yourself—will mask who they are and how they feel to fit in. To be more normal. Masking is very detrimental to the psyche, however. You will be much happier once you realize that normal is just a social construct and that you, at your core, are beautiful. Your individualism and the factors about you that make you stand out draw people into you. Not how normal you are."

Aella clutches the edge of the couch cushion, fighting the urge to reach for me as she agrees with the doctor.

I eye her knuckles, reaching over and covering her tiny hand with mine. Her eyes lift.

"I bet she's drawn to you because of who you are when you let the bullshit drop. When you're the most you, I bet she could see you at your worst and not shy away. The people who are worthy of being in your life will love you for you. This diagnosis will help you understand your autism on a broad spectrum, but you're still going to be Braxton. You're still going to have quirks that are specific to you."

I turn toward the doctor, squeezing over Aella's hand again. "I want to do the testing and have the diagnosis. For me."

He nods. "I'll get all the paperwork done, and we can do our portion together next week. The secretary can schedule that time slot on your way out. Sound good?"

I nod as he gathers a few things, makes a file folder, and hands it to me. I give it to Aella to put into the backpack on her back .

She does so silently.

"I'll see you next week, Braxton. I'm proud of you for making this step. It's a very hard one. You're stronger than you realize."

Feeling smaller than I should as I tower over the small doctor, I shake his hand and thank him. As Aella schedules my next appointment for testing, I rock on my heels as the entire day comes crashing over me like a wave of bricks landing on my flesh.

I barely make it outside before my chest feels tight.

I get on the bike borrowed from the shop and bring it to life, staring forward as Aella climbs behind me.

"Hang on, Bambi," I grumble before speeding off from the parking lot of the medical park, the wind rustling around us and making Aella scream with trepidation. I can't think about it, though. I need an outlet.

I need speed.

I need the wind to beat the thrum from in my veins.

Today was a lot.

I need this.

"Brax!" Aella shouts, and I gas it. Her screams fade into the passing wind, and a buzz sets into my veins, drowning some of the overstimulation from within. "Slow down!"

I'm still speeding down road after road, and I passed the clubhouse thirty minutes ago. Now we're barreling down a gravel road. One that leads to an old abandoned cabin Miles and I found when we were kids.

We subsequently bought and fixed it up when we made a sizable sum of money from our first jobs as Cobras.

"Brax! Where are we going?" Aella screams over the surrounding wind.

I can't answer. I'm still reeling.

When we come to a stop before the cabin, the motion light ticks on. The surrounding woods are thick, and the night is black around us. The stars are so apparent from here, but I don't take even a moment to look at them.

I lift her off the bike, throwing her over my shoulder.

She squeals. "What are you doing? You've finally snapped! I swear to God, Braxton, if you don't put me down!"

Bounding up the porch steps, which Miles and I rebuilt with our own hands at the ages of 17 and 18, then drop her onto the railing.

She huffs at me. "What the fuck?"

She tries to fix her hair, but there's no cure for what the wind has done to it.

"You said to put you down." It's the first time I've spoken since the doctor's office nearly two hours ago, and it feels jarring.

She purses her lips as I press her thighs open and step in between her legs. Her breathing flounders as I lean over her face.

"Brax," she whines, unable to help how she responds to me, and I love it. It's just what I need .

She's become my body's outlet to bring me back to reality. She's also become a pretty gnarly addiction.

But I'm actively ignoring the second realization.

"What, Bambi? What do you need?" I tease, cupping her face in my hand and kissing her softly, only to pull back, trailing my tongue behind my lips.

She opens her heady eyes. "Where are we?" she asks, finally realizing we're on what she thinks is someone's porch.

"Our cabin. Mine and Miles's. Now, don't change the subject. Tell me what you need."

She shakes her head, hopping off the side of the porch. "Tell me what you need."

I turn her around, bending her slightly over the railing. "You don't want to know what I need, Bambi."

She turns her face towards me. "Yes, I do."

"Is that so?" I ask, my hand slithering around her throat, holding her and feeling her pulse beneath my hand. It gives me the power I need right now.

"Tell me," she begs, and I feel her pleading through my palm.

"I want to use you. No, fuck that. I need to use you. For you to be my dirty little girl while I fuck some of this buzzing out of my system. I don't need your pretty words and comfort as much as they're appreciated, Aella. I need to fuck you until I'm calm. I fucking need you !"

Her hands are moving before I register their movement. She shimmies her pants down to her ankles, along with her panties. Her ass presses into my dick as she offers herself to me .

"Take what you need," she pants, and I step back to look at the vision of Aella in her riding boots—her pants and panties around her ankles—pussy glistening as she bends over the railing I built myself.

I dreamed of bringing someone here for years, but then, who would ever fuck a freak?

Now, in one day, I find out I'm not a fucking freak, and I'm going to fuck the woman I love here.

"I can't be gentle." My words are strangled as I work my dick out of my pants.

"I don't care!" she moans out as I shove inside her tight cunt.

"Fuck, Bambi, you grip me so fucking good. Bend over the railing… There's a good girl. God, you look so fucking good bent over for me. Fuck, you feel good."

My words are gruff, and my thrusts are, too.

My dick glides through her pussy like it was molded just to fit her body. Who knows if it wasn't? No one knows how the universe works. Especially not me.

"Brax, holy shit…" Her hand finds her clit, as if she knows I won't last long enough to give her time to finish with me.

But she doesn't realize she'll always come first even though I need this.

Fucking. Always.

A cry of pleasure rips from her throat, and my eyes cross as I let go and shoot my load into her pussy.

"Fuck, Bambi."

We stay connected—her bent over, my dick inside her—for what seems like forever before I slip out of her.

She turns and eyes me, a blissful look on her face .

"Are you alright?" she asks.

After the way I just fucked her, I should ask her. Shit, I should check her for splinters. She's amazing.

I nod, stuffing my dick back in my pants. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

She smirks, bending over for her pants. "That was… God, I have no words."

She moves towards me, and one knee buckles. I laugh and capture her, kissing her softly. Finally, the buzzing beneath my skin has calmed, and I slip my tongue inside her mouth, thanking her for what I can give her. Right now, words aren't available.

"I love you," she says when I pull back, and I'm in awe, just looking at her and trying to figure out how this is my life. "And I'm proud of you. If the shoe was on the other foot, I don't know if I'd have had the strength to do what you did today."

She's full of shit. She's the strongest person I know, and Miles would agree. I'll never know how she deals with both of us and all that's going on in her life. But we keep our fingers crossed that she won't run away when she realizes the gravity of being ours.

"Come on, let's get back to the clubhouse before Miles freaks out," I tell her dismissively.

She seems put off by my flippant behavior, but she knows I can't discuss this yet. I must process everything before letting someone else into what I think and feel.

She relents and gets on the bike with me even if she wants to press. She leans up and kisses my cheek, and a moment of breathlessness overcomes me, but confidence booms in my chest .

I know there's a lot to come, and I might fail. I might fall. But I also know she'll be right beside me no matter what, and that in itself is enough to keep me putting one boot in front of the other.

She'll never know what that means to me.

Because I'll never be able to express it outwardly.

She's becoming my safe space.