Page 139 of Pucking Them
Now, I glance anxiously at my watch.
It’s 9:58.
My heart hurts.
Has Robyn already told D’Angelo?
It’s been nearly two hours.
Why is it destroying me that the Webbs are late?
It is an away game this evening, and although my American geography is as shit as I guess D’Angelo’s English geography would be, I’m guessing that it will take around six hours on the bus to drive to Pittsburgh.
I can’t wait around much longer. I can’t risk being late. I won’t let my team down.
They’re my family too.
And D’Angelo…?He’s everything.
I wasn’t too worried when the Webbs were half an hour and then an hour late. But now that I have been left stranded on this remote, bleak beach for nearly two hours, despairing thoughts are tearing me apart.
What if the Webbs don’t turn up? What if they reject and abandon me all over again?
How unlovable would that make me?
Furious with myself, I wipe the back of my hand over my eyes.
Robyn doesn’t think that I should have agreed to come here this morning. But she told me that she supported my right to make up my own mind. She said that I wouldn’t be keeping a secret and breaking the rule because she knew where I was going and would monitor the situation for me.
Last night, the other subs told me that we should tell our dom.
Everett in particular was frightened for me. He insisted that D’Angelo would want to protect me.
He’s right.
My kind Sir, however, already does too bloody much for me. He is the one who needs a break. I want to take care of him, rather than constantly relying on him.
I can be independent as well, not only my twin.
Still, D’Angelo would probably be furious that I had come out here by myself with the risks and dangers going on right now.
I know that Eden would.
For once, however, this is about facing demons that I have run from my entire life.
I have tried to experience as many sensations as possible, from food to sex, attempting to feel as alive as I can because I never knew whether I would die.
These Webbs did that to me.
I shouldn’t want their love. They don’t deserve to say sorry to me.
I shouldn’t forgive them.
I don’t.
But I don’t want to live in fear all the time. I am doing this for myself.
I have been shivering in the light rain for two hours, however, clinging onto a fading hope that I matter even a tiny amount to the people who birthed me.
