Page 23 of Trust in Me
Avery turned to Cody next. “I’m sorry I called you a snitch. Thank you for keeping me safe, Sir.”
Cody grinned at Avery. “Happy to, love. That’s what I’m here for. Come here.” He enveloped her in a brotherly hug, then released her. He looked at me. “Good luck, man.”
18
Avery
IdrovemyJeepbehind Brax’s F-150 to his house. He lived in Central Park, the subdivision that had taken over the location of the old Stapleton airport. I’d always loved the row homes that lined the streets, but they’d been out of my price range when I moved to Denver for med school. Like,wayout of my price range. I parked on the street in front of one of those row homes, just behind Brax.
I slid out of the driver’s seat, looking up at the townhomes. There were several brick homes attached to one another, all Georgian architecture. I’d had a brief flirtation with the idea of being an architect when I grew up, back before I realized just how much math was involved. I still loved looking at buildings and seeing how they made it all work.
I followed Brax to the front of one of the homes. He opened a heavy black door and flipped on a light just inside, then held the door for me. I walked past him into the house. Just in front of the small entryway was a short set of stairs, with a living room to the left. I took off my shoes in the entryway and headed that direction. I wiggled my toes in the plush carpet in the center of the room. There was a gas fireplace on one wall. This room would be so cozy in the Colorado winters, wouldn’t it? I pictured myself sitting on one of the two loveseats, the fire roaring.
There were several framed pictures on the mantel. One showed a boy that had to be a young Brax, smiling next to an older man and woman. His parents, maybe? I smiled at a close-up photo of a golden retriever. On the very right was a picture of a young woman with dark hair, smiling into the camera. I leaned in closer. The woman was in what looked like a downtown city park. Strangers dotted the background among the flowering trees. She was crouched down next to a golden retriever, one that looked identical to the one in the other photo, its leash in her hand.
While I stood there, Brax came up behind me. “That’s Julie. And Maxwell was the dog.”
I turned around. “Was? What happened to Maxwell?”
Brax’s eyes had lost some of the stern expression he seemed to wear most of the time. He looked sad. Distant, almost. “Old age. He was 13, pretty good for dog years. He died about 4 years ago.”
“I’m sorry. It’s always hard to lose a pet.” I hesitated, not sure if I should ask. Who was the girl? A sister? Girlfriend?
Brax nodded, reading the questions on my face. “Go ahead, you can ask.”
“What about, um, Julie? Who’s she?”
Brax looked down, silent, then brought his gaze up to meet mine again. “She was my wife.”
My stomach dropped. He was married? I studied Brax, looking for more answers. Grief was written on his face. He’d saidwas. Were they divorced? Why would he have a picture on his mantel? I chewed on my lower lip. I needed to know.
“Was she…did she, um…where is she now?”
Brax’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “She passed away three years ago. She was a police officer, too. That’s how we met. She was killed in the line of duty. A home invasion gone wrong. I tried to move on back in Dallas, but I just…needed a change of scenery. That’s how I ended up here, in Denver, two years ago.” Brax reached around me and picked up the frame. “I can move these, if it bothers you.”
“No! No, that’s fine. Please, leave them there. I’m so sorry to hear about her. She was beautiful. What was she like?”
Brax replaced the photo frame and sat on one of the loveseats. The navy and grey of the room suited him— dark but not too dark, classic. He patted the cushion next to him. “She was sweet, kind. Smart. She loved dogs. Maxwell was hers, actually, when we met. We were married for two years before she died.”
“Was she your…did you two…” I fumbled, trying to find the right words. How did one ask politely about the sex life you had with your now-dead spouse?
Brax didn’t seem offended. “Did we practice BDSM? Yes, we did.” He looked me in the eye. “I was her Daddy Dom.”
So Emma had been right. But was he… “Like— age play?”
Brax shook his head. “Not really, no, not the way you might be thinking. Just more of a nurturing Dom-sub relationship. Discipline when she needed it, helping her be her best self, making life easier for her. She was strong, independent, fierce at work. I gave her a place where she didn’t have to be.” He took a deep breath, then tilted his head, keeping his gaze fixed on me. “I’d like to be that for you. I think that’s why Drew paired us up, that first night. There was something in that profile you submitted that made him think of me.”
My heart raced. He wanted me? As his sub?
After our first night at Blackstone, I’d convinced myself that he wasn’t interested in more. And then we’d scened together, if spanking counted, but he hadn’t done more than touch me with his hands. My face heated, thinking of how I’d climaxed harder than I ever had in my life. How he made my heart race in a way no one else had.
How safe he made me feel.
But I hadn’t thought he’d want me the way I wanted him.
“I haven’t been ready for a relationship since she died. I’m still not completely sure I’m ready now. But there’s something about you that I can’t walk away from. I hope you’re feeling it, too. But if I’m way off base, just let me know. You’re welcome to stay here either way, no pressure at all.”
The grief I’d seen in his eyes morphed into something else. Hope, maybe.
