Chapter Seventeen

“When do you fly out?” I ask Braden when we’ve both cleaned our breakfast plates.

“Not until five p.m. I’ve got a car meeting me at the hotel at two thirty.”

“Okay. What would you like to do until then?”

His gaze burns into me.

Yeah, I know the answer.

“Not here,” I say under my breath, though I don’t need to be so cautious. My mother escaped the kitchen as soon as she served breakfast. She’s freaked out in a major way. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her like this before.

Except maybe…

Fragmented images float through my head. My mother. My father. Me. But they’re like puzzles missing that one essential piece that remains elusive no matter how hard I look for it.

“Show me around,” Braden says.

“Why? You’ve seen the house. And the cornfields are huge, but if you see one acre, you’ve seen them all.”

He reaches toward me, trails a finger over my forearm. “Show me a certain part of it.”

“What part?”

“The part where you got lost.”

Again I’m sitting on that damned block of ice. I never ventured so far into the fields after that time. I haven’t given it any thought in ages—at least not until I told Braden the story a few weeks ago.

But maybe this is important. Maybe I need to face that part of me to understand the other parts. I swallow. “All right. I’ll take you there.”

I’m an adult now. I’m not seven years old. I’m taller than the corn, and even if I’m not, Braden certainly is. We won’t get lost.

He touches my hand. “You’re frightened.”

“Not frightened exactly. A little apprehensive.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“You’ve never gone back there, have you?”

My eyes widen. “How did you know that?”

“You got rigid. Tense at the mere thought.”

“You can tell that by looking at me?”

“Of course. I know you, Skye. Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself.” He looks toward the entry and then lowers his voice. “I have to know my partner. I have to be able to read her body when she can’t speak to me. It’s part of the lifestyle. Part of how I keep you safe.”

His words give me hope. “Will we ever get back there, Braden?”

“I hope so,” he says, “because I don’t think I can exist without that part of my life.”

“You mean last night didn’t mean anything for you?”

“Last night meant everything to me. It was completely new to me, and I wanted it with you. But I can’t deny I still crave the darker side of sex. I always will. And if you and I can’t go there, I’m afraid there’s no future for us.”

Sadness sweeps through me. “We can go there, Braden. You’re the one who stopped it, not me.”

“True. But as long as you have that need—for the neck binding—I can’t be with you. That’s why I need you to figure out why you want it. That’s the only way we can deal with it, but until you know the reason behind that need, you’ll always want something I can’t give you. And that’s no way to begin a relationship. To begin a future together.”

“How can there be no future? We love each other.”

He cups my cheek, trailing his thumb over my lower lip. “Love isn’t always enough, Skye.”

“Love conquers all.”

“You’re better than a cliché,” he says. “You’re smarter than that.”

I nod. I can’t fight the truth of his words. Love doesn’t always conquer all, no matter how strong it is. For whatever reason, he won’t bind me at the neck. And for whatever reason, I need him to.

“I will answer your question, Braden,” I say. “That’s why I came here. To figure this stuff out. But when I answer yours, I expect you to answer mine. I want to know why it’s your hard limit.”

He nods. “I always intended to.”

“Then I’ll hold you to it.”

…

Our backyard is large, and one of our fields juts up against it, separated by chain-link fencing. It is, of course, the field where I got lost. I was never allowed to go anywhere near the other fields, as there’s no access from the house.

I breathe in deeply, willing my heart to remain steady. It wants to race, but I won’t let it. If I can’t control my body, what can I control? Not much.

I lead Braden to the chain-link gate at the far side of the yard.

“Is this where you went into the cornfield?” he asks.

“Yes. The gate was open.”

“Did you know how to open the gate?”

“Yeah. But I never did.”

“Were you allowed in the field?”

I nod. “As long as my mom was nearby and as long as I didn’t go in too far.”

“But that day, you went in.”

“Yeah. I was chasing a praying mantis, remember?”

“Right. You liked bugs.”

I smile at the memory. “I was never a girly girl. I played in the mud. I never wore dresses except on special occasions. I didn’t even wear makeup until my senior year of high school.”

“Did you help with the farming?”

“Not the actual farming, no. But I helped Mom dry and can corn in the fall. I helped her with her craft fairs and baking. That kind of stuff.”

“Did you ever want to help in the fields?”

I shake my head vehemently. “Not after that day.”

“Okay. Where did you go from here?”

I point. “See that post in the distance?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s where the scarecrow used to be. It’s where I hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“That’s pretty far for a little kid.”

“Believe me, it seemed like miles, especially when you can’t see over the corn stalks.”

He looks around. “Praying mantises are green, right?”

“Yeah.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “How the hell could you chase it in here? Didn’t it blend in with the stalks?”

“Not really. It’s a different shade of green.”

“Ah,” he says. “Your photographer’s eye.”

“I suppose so. My mom actually asked me the same thing once I came to and told her what I was doing. To me, the greens are totally different.” I let out a breath. I’m feeling better. Talking helps.

“Totally different?” Braden says, one eyebrow quirking.

“Okay. Subtly different. But I can see the difference.”

Braden grabs my hand. “You’re cold as ice.”

“Am I? I thought I was feeling better.”

“It’s okay. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

“Because you’ll protect me, right?”

“Always,” he says, “but you don’t need me to protect you here.”

“I know.” I choke out a laugh. “I was kidding.”

“I know you were. Do you realize that you use humor when you’re nervous?”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

We walk through the plowed pathway, moving farther and farther out, toward the old scarecrow pole. We don’t seem to be getting any closer, though, until it juts out from the ground and stops me in my tracks. I resist the urge to cry out in surprise.

“Here we are,” Braden says.

“Yes.”

“Take this place back, Skye.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here it is. It’s an old pole. Nothing can harm you here. So take it back. Take back the power it stole from you all those years ago.”

“Have you ever done anything like that?” I can’t help asking.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“But have you—”

“You have no idea what I’ve had to take back in my life.”

“Will you tell—”

“Damn it, Skye. Must you always be so obstinate?”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Isn’t that why you love me?”

He shakes his head. “God help me. You’re partially right.”

I smile. Sort of. “I understand what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need to take this back, Braden. It doesn’t scare me.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. I admit to being reluctant to come here, but I’m fine now. Really.”

I’m not lying. My heart is beating normally, and my skin is no longer chilled. I’m okay.

“Then perhaps you’re wrong.”

“About what?” I ask.

“Maybe this isn’t what gave birth to your need for control.”

“No, this is it,” I say. “I didn’t realize until I got here, though, that this place isn’t anything to hamper my life. Besides, I gave up control. To you. Remember?”

“You did. Or rather you may think you did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Feeling out of control is related to anxiety. That’s how you feel when you lose control in a situation. That’s probably how you felt when you got lost here all those years ago.”

I nod.

I remember so vividly when he puts the situation in those words. My heart thumping, fear flowing through me. My little legs trying to run but tripping, and then the pole springing up just as it did today, breaking my path.

Hitting my head.

Then waking up in bed.

“But,” Braden continues, “is that how you feel when you’re not in control now?”

Is it? “No,” I reply. “Not really.”

“So you see, Skye, your need for control isn’t really who you are at all, is it?”

Is he right? Is that how I was able to succumb to his mastery so easily?

“I… I don’t know.”

“What you define as being a control freak is really just a preference. You prefer to be able to think clearly. That’s why you don’t get drunk.”

“You think?”

“It’s possible. In fact, your willingness to give up control to me in the bedroom may be because it’s nice not to have to think sometimes. It’s nice to let someone else be in charge.”

My mouth drops open.

He’s right.

He’s exactly right.

“Tessa says I don’t let my hair down enough.”

“You seem to let it down with me.”

“Yeah, I do… In fact…”

“What?”

Say it. Just say it. “I want to let it down farther than you’re willing to let me.”

“That’s true.”

“So…what do we do now?”

“You have to figure that out for yourself, Skye. I can’t help you.”

“But you just—”

“I just got lucky on a hunch. Most self-professed control freaks aren’t actually control freaks. For example, you don’t micromanage.”

“How do you know?”

“Addison wouldn’t have let you.”

He’s not wrong. “Since you brought her up—”

“Nice try.” His lips tremble, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “We’re not talking about me yet.”

I huff. “Fine.”

“You also didn’t change yourself or your situation for me.”

“I would never do that.”

“That’s exactly my point. You are who you are. You don’t change yourself to control the situation.” He pauses. Then, “Let me ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“Were you attracted to me from the beginning?”

“Of course.”

“A true control freak would have attempted to manage my impression of her. You didn’t do that.”

I cock my head. Is he onto something? I want to hear more.

“Did you want to sleep with me that first night?”

“Of course!”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I—”

“See what I mean?”

“But I was controlling the situation.”

“No, you weren’t. You gave up something you wanted that you could have had. How is that being in control?”

“It was… It was too soon.”

“According to whom?”

Good question. “I don’t know. According to the rules I set in my own head?” I laugh nervously.

“Bingo. That’s your illusion of control—those rules in your head. But that’s not what makes a true control freak. You control only yourself. A control freak takes charge of others.”

I drop my jaw. His words make an eerie kind of sense.

“What did you gain by controlling yourself?” he asks.

“Nothing. I mean, I made you wait, I guess.”

“You did. You made us both wait for something we both wanted. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I never doubted you’d come to my bed. And I never doubted you’d eventually yield to me.”

I cock my head. “You said I was a challenge.”

“Yes, and you were. You are. But I never back down from a challenge, and there’s not one thing I’ve gone after that I haven’t gotten.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying there’s only one true master of control standing here, Skye, and it’s not you.”