In “Hazards No More,” set between Chapters 3 and 4 of Crossing the Lines, Jay’s insecurities are dogging him after his revelations to Alice during their last contract night.
Twelve-oh-eight. The old-fashioned clock at Oscar’s diner hung on the wall behind the cashier station. The slim black minute hand ticked. Twelve-oh-nine.
Jay’s phone lay face-up on his table, confirming the first dark spot in his Tuesday. Twelve-oh-nine. Alice was late for lunch.
He checked again, in case he’d missed the familiar chime announcing her texts while he’d been willing the minute hand on the wall clock to spin backward. No messages.
He scanned the front window. No Alice hurrying down the street, charging through the door, and shaking off the chill with a brrr and a toss of her dark blond hair. No rain or snow to hold her up today, either. Boston had given them the closest February got to a perfect day, the sun slipping through the windows and luring people away from their desks for long walks and lazy lunches.
Except Alice.
Jay twirled his wrist, finally free of the hated brace. He’d come in the door planning to tease her—see, I can hug you with both arms now—but their empty table greeted him. In five months of lunches, she’d been late only once.
Nothing to worry about. He untwisted and retwisted the caps on the salt, the pepper, the ketchup. He stared at the menu they both knew by heart. She’d gotten caught up in some project, that was all, and in a minute she’d lift her head and curse under her breath as she threw on her coat.
Not half so bad as the time he’d been in the middle school play. He’d stayed after school for rehearsals for weeks. Gotten tickets for the whole family, talked up the play so much at meals that Peggy’d told him to can the chatter and gotten into a no-you-shut-up tussle with Nat over it until Dad had banished them from the table. Can’t you see you’ve upset your mother? Off with you now, all of you.
On opening night, he’d peeked out from behind the curtain and seen only the empty row of seats in the auditorium.
At least Alice’s empty seat wouldn’t leave him stranded at school, catching a pity ride home from his English teacher and earning a scolding from Peggy for missing dinner. No one had asked about the play, and for once he might’ve made them proud. Nailed his entrances and remembered all three of his lines.
But his family had known what a fuckup he was since his first breath. No wonder they hadn’t showed. And Alice…she knew now, too. More than they did, more than anyone except Henry did. She wouldn’t want to spend her lunch hour with him anymore.
On Friday night, in front of Henry, she’d been full of smiles and reassurance, but she’d had more than three days to think it over.
Twelve-eleven. Unless they ordered soon, they’d run short on time to eat.
Like she’d even stay long enough to eat. His stomach flipped over, chewing on itself, and he clamped his teeth shut on queasy what-ifs.
If she showed up at all today, it’d be to tell him off. How disgusted she was that she’d let such a filthy, cowering slut touch her. How wrong and bad he was, how he didn’t deserve to be called a man, how Cal should’ve—
Chime.
He grabbed the phone and swiped open the new text.
On my way.
No emojis, no smiles or frowny faces or letting-off-steam ears. No way to tell how she felt about lunch today. But her words from Friday night, her slow and gentle delivery, slipped into his head.
You’re not any more pathetic or disgusting than I am. You’re playful and sweet and giving.
Alice’s walk to the restaurant would take ten minutes. He only needed to hold off the panic thoughts until she showed up. Good or bad, he’d know for sure then.
Laying the phone down, he raised the menu in his other hand and flagged the grandmotherly woman who nearly always served them. “My lunch partner’s running late. Can I go ahead and get the order in for both of us?”
“You bet.” Plucked from an apron pocket, pad and pen waited in the woman’s thick-veined hands. “What can I getcha?”
He rattled off dishes they’d had before, and the server hurried away with the list. Henry would’ve ordered for Alice to ensure a worry-free lunch without so much time pressure. Jay could do the same, as a service.
And if he hadn’t disgusted her Friday—no, he hadn’t, she’d accepted him, she would still accept him, she would, so scratch disgusted. If time allowed—much better, my boy, Henry’s warm approval sounded in his head—he’d offer to give her a lift back to her office on his bike. She’d enjoyed that service before, and the ride would make up for the minutes they’d missed together.
A smart submissive like him? Yeah, he’d find ways to claim every minute they were owed together. He breathed easier, the tight grip on his chest letting up. Alice wouldn’t walk away. He just needed to keep the faith.
At twelve-nineteen, the diner door swung open and his lover dashed inside. Hatless, scarfless, she strode down the aisle with cold-pinked cheeks, unzipping her coat as she moved.
“Jay!” She gulped in air. Her hair, usually sleek, crowded her face in flyaway tangles. She slung her coat over the back of her seat. “God, I’m so sorry. It’s like Dan was waiting to pounce on me the minute I got up from my desk.”
I’d pounce on you. Slim black pants covered her legs; a Henry-green sweater cuddled her breasts. Gorgeous.
“I practically had to charge him like a linebacker to get out the front door, and then I ran all the way here.” She brimmed with energy, talking at his mile-a-minute speed, her eyes bright and her smile enormous as she dropped into her chair.
“I’m so glad you waited.” She squeezed his fingers before reaching for the menu. “Criminy, I’m way late. We’d better get our orders in, or—”
The server stopped at their table and deftly slid soup-and-sandwich combo platters in front of each of them.
Alice scrambled to unwrap her silverware and spread her napkin across her lap. “You ordered for me?”
Fuck. What he saw as service, she might label control, and one definite about his independent lover: she only submitted to Henry. “Well, I—”
Their tea arrived with a little spouted crock of cream. The waitress gazed at Jay from beneath a fringe of graying bangs. “Anything else you’re needing?”
“Nope.” Alice piped up before he got his brain together. “Not a thing. Thanks.” As the woman left to check on the next table, Alice leaned over her bowl and took a big whiff. “Mmm. That was so sweet of you, Jay. I’ve been starving all morning—forgot breakfast again in my rush out the door. I was about to rip Dan’s face off for keeping me from lunch. This is perfect.”
Like the pull of Henry’s hand on the back of his neck, she spread calm through him. Muscles unknotted, and he swayed in his seat. “Took a chance,” he managed, belatedly unwrapping his own silverware bundle. “I figured the less time we’re staring at menus, the more time we have together, for talking and stuff.”
Alice paused her sandwich in mid-bite. Her sweater turned her eyes extra-green, the hazel-brown retreating to tiny specks behind pine bough irises. She chewed slowly, her gaze staying on him as he crumbled saltines over his bowl and she lowered her sandwich to her plate.
“You made the right choice.” Folding her hands in front of her, Alice leaned on her elbows. “Jay.”
The restaurant sounds around them—the chatter of patrons, the clink of dishes, the sizzle from the grill—faded as he focused on her alone.
Alice’s hair fell in ruffled waves around her face, catching and curving across the tops of her shoulders. Chin set and level, she blew out a slow breath. “I know we’re not supposed to mix up the boundaries or talk about”—she waggled her head left, then right—“stuff when it’s not playtime, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so let me say this one thing and then we can be just-friends for the rest of lunch, okay?”
Mouth dry, he jerked his head in an uncontrolled nod. Alice was practically Henry’s lieutenant, or would be, once she recognized her rightful place. Henry would understand the rules lapse when Jay explained tonight—welcome it, even, ’cause Alice initiated. Steps she took herself scored loads higher on Henry’s scale than ones she got pushed into.
“You are an amazing man.” The sharpness in her eyes and the crisp bite of each syllable left no room for doubt. “You are my best friend, and you are incredibly special to me, and nothing you’ve told me about yourself has changed that.”
Their knees brushed beneath the table. She must’ve been sitting on the edge of her seat to be so close. At the touch, she leaned into him with her calf, a sidelong hug like the ones she delivered on Friday nights and rare Saturday mornings as their legs flirted under the sheets.
“You are beautiful, and smart, and funny, and so brave that you leave me in awe.” Red rose in her cheeks, deeper than the faded pink from the chill outside. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and her fingers twitched.
His body refused to function. Kneeling at her feet wouldn’t be acceptable, not only because starting a scene in public would violate consent in dozens of not-good ways but because she didn’t recognize her place in their hierarchy yet. Words couldn’t express the gratitude, the relief, the near-subspace joy filling him with heat as his heartbeat thudded in his ears. Alice hadn’t rejected him. The hazard lights flashing all over his sexual map wouldn’t drive her away.
Aiming for casual, he slid his foot forward and hooked his leg around the back of hers. Tangled in each other the way they should be every night in bed. He swallowed hard. “Thank you, Alice.”
She pulled in one corner of her mouth and took a deep breath through her nose. “That’s it. Lecture over. Eat your lunch before it gets cold.” Picking up her spoon, she dug in. “Is this the white chili you got us? I love that creamy texture.”
He babbled between bites, chattering about the diner’s menu options, and Henry’s fabulous scallops-and-whitefish chili, and the thrill of having his right hand free again. He kept to himself the shower test that had proved to Henry he could flex his wrist properly and painlessly through repetitive tasks this morning.
Laughing in all the right places, Alice fed the giddy submissive under the comedian covering. Her enjoyment spurred him to share more and more, to keep her eyes shining and her cheeks rounded. All the while, a prayer flowed through him like a deep current.
Thank you, Henry. Thank you for seeing how perfect she is for us. Thank you for helping me be patient. Thank you for making Friday a flogging night and creating the space I needed to tell her about what happened. I won’t let us lose her.
Someday, she’d feel safe enough to accept their love and share her own. Until then, he’d be the gentle nudge and Henry the steady bulwark against backsliding. The only direction for Alice to go would be deeper in. Mind, body, and soul.