The Favor

“Nu-uh,” I said, backpedaling, but he matched me step for step. “You’ll have to wait.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Well, you’ll just have to. I mean it, Dane, I’m not showing it to you.” I halted as the back of my knees hit the futon. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Good things come to those who pursue them.” He very gently tipped me backwards, so that my ass landed softly on the futon. “Undo your jeans.”

“If you think you can sexually torture me into agreeing to show you the dress, you’re wrong. But you’re very welcome to try.” I snapped open the buttons of my fly. “I’m not one to turn down an orgasm.”

A wicked smile curved one side of his mouth. “Who said anything about me making sure you came?”

At dumb ‘o’ clock in the morning, I dried my wet hands using the small towel in my private bathroom. I’d woken from a bizarre dream and would have gone straight back to sleep if I hadn’t desperately needed to pee.

Having done my business, I padded out of the bathroom and softly closed the door behind me. The slight creak of the hinges made me wince. Sure enough, Dane’s eyelids flipped open. More, his entire body went rigid, and something that resembled panic flashed across his face. But then his gaze landed on me, and the stiffness leeched out of him.

God, I hated his father. Hated him. There were times I wanted to piss on his grave.

Pretending not to notice Dane’s reaction to the noise, I climbed back into bed and lay on my front.

He turned on his side to face me. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” I quietly replied. “I had a weird dream; it woke me up.”

“What was it about?”

“Simon and Corrine. They were arguing at an airport. I was trying to play peacemaker, but then I got pissed because she tried to snatch my suitcase.” I shrugged. “Like I said, it was weird.”

Dane slid his hand under my camisole and stroked the pads of his fingers along my back. “Do you dream about her much?”

“No. Her face isn’t always very clear when I do. It was a long time ago that I last saw her.” I wouldn’t be surprised to hear she was dead, given the lifestyle she’d led.

“Has she ever tried to contact you?”

“Nope.”

“Do you wish she had?”

“Not at all. The only good thing she ever did for me was stay out of my life.”

“What about Simon?” Dane began to slowly trace each bump of my spine. “Has she ever contacted him?”

“If she has, he and his alters have all kept it a secret from me. I can’t envision them doing that. Freddie would definitely tell me if she made contact.”

“Why?”

“He’s afraid of her. That’s why he never surfaced around her. She didn’t even know Freddie existed. He made me promise to keep him a secret from her.”

Dane slid his hand all the way up my back and rested it between my shoulder blades. “Did the other alters converse with her?”

“Mostly one of Simon’s previous alters, Stella. She was eighteen. She hated the world and used to bitch at Corrine.” To me, Stella had been like a big sister who was never mean but never loving—she’d tolerated my presence but hadn’t wanted my company. “Maggie would sometimes scold Corrine like an imperious aunt. Deacon would deal with her if he caught her hitting me, but he only physically harmed her the one time.”

“Simon never dealt with her himself?” There was no judgement in the question, only curiosity.

“No. It was like Simon was too intimidated by Corrine to stand up to her. I think she reminded him of his mother, in some ways. Although he hated his mother, abusive relationships were all he’d ever known. To him, that was ‘love.’ I guess we’re sometimes most comfortable with what we know. Other times, we set out to find the opposite.”

“Did Corrine deal with Simon’s DID well?”

“She was too wrapped up in her drug addiction to care much what was going on with others. I learned that her father has schizophrenia, so I suppose being around someone with mental health issues was the norm for her.”

“Did any of Simon’s alters ever hurt you?”

I frowned. “Oh no, none. That was why Melinda and Wyatt were so supportive of my contact with him. They knew he wasn’t a danger to me. There’s so much stigma attached to DID that some people judged Melinda and Wyatt for not keeping Simon out of my life.”

“I don’t think they’d have managed it anyway. He would have found some way to see you. He loves you.” Dane dragged his hand down my spine, over my shorts-clad butt, and down to the back of my thigh. “He sings your praises to me constantly, like I don’t already know you.”