Bound to Submit

***

Griffin took off of work the next day because he was so worried about Kenna, despite the fact that she was leaving for Florida. In fact, in part because she was leaving for Florida.

“Let me come with you,” Griffin said.

“It’s okay, Griffin,” Kenna said as she placed the last things into her weekend bag. She didn’t need much. And she’d already packed the most important thing she had to take—the thing she’d been holding onto for years that belonged to someone else. “Really. I won’t even be gone for forty-eight hours, and I can handle this. I promise.” She’d slept so hard that she didn’t remember falling asleep and was certain she hadn’t moved once all night, and had awakened more well rested than she could ever remember being. She was a little embarrassed about how horribly she’d fallen apart the night before, but it was hard to regret it when it left her feeling so much light, so much freer. Like she’d purged a poison that had been making her sick for so long.

Maybe that’s what guilt was. A mental poison. And Griffin had helped her expel it.

“I know you can,” he said, sitting on the bed next to her bag. “I don’t doubt that.”

He didn’t push more than that, and she appreciated both that he’d offered to go with her, and that he was letting her do this on her own.

After all that they’d shared the night before, saying good-bye wasn’t easy though. Griffin drove her to the airport, and though he offered to walk her in, she insisted that he drop her at the curb. It wasn’t like he could go beyond security anyway.

“I love you,” she said. “I’ll be back in less than two days.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “Hurry back to me. And let me know you got there okay.”

The kiss was sweetness and lightness and support and everything good. It made it harder to leave, but she had to do this. It was one more thing she needed to purge.

Ridiculously, the pretty little boutique hotel she’d booked felt lonely, and the beautiful weather, pretty pool, and vacation vibe only added to the feeling. She and Griffin texted relentlessly, and it was the only thing that finally made her feel like she could relax and go to sleep.

But sleep was not her friend. She had nightmares all night long, and she was aware enough to realize that it was her anxiety about seeing Ms. Kern coming through. But that didn’t give her any way to combat it, or leave her feeling anymore rested when the sun started brightening the room the next morning.

The shower helped a little, as did the tray of room service she ordered—pancakes and bacon and a bowl of juicy pineapple. Her appetite had improved over the past few weeks—from the exertion of her submission and from feeling so much better, no doubt. But the anxiety even ruined that this morning. She took a half dozen bites and then pushed the food away.

And then all there was for her to do was to sit and wait until it seemed like an appropriate hour to knock on someone’s door, deliver a long-overdue package, and hope like hell they didn’t give you the tongue-lashing of guilt that part of you felt like you deserved.

Kenna sighed and flipped on the television.

A little after ten o’clock, a knock sounded against her door. On a huff, she pushed off the bed and opened the door. “I’m not ready for service—”

“Kenna.” Griffin. It was Griffin.

She threw the door open further and jumped into his arms. “You’re here. Oh, god, you’re here.”

“Aw, baby. I couldn’t stay away.” He stroked her hair and carried her into the room.

“I’m so glad,” she said, realizing how true it was.

“Are you okay?” he asked, setting her down and looking her over.

A fast nod. “Yeah. I’m fine. I just missed you. And I realized after I was down here that I should’ve accepted your help with this trip. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It didn’t feel right. Even if you want to go visit Georgia’s mom on your own, it didn’t feel right not to at least be here for you when you got back.”

Kenna had never felt more love for a person than she did in that very moment. Because he’d known what she’d needed—and he’d given it to her without question, hesitation, or condition.