Break

He leaves me in shock, and I scramble to pull my clothes on before anyone else walks into the bathroom.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Dashiell

Later that week, I spend hours on the internet setting up meal delivery services. I want to keep this as easy and fun as possible. I still feel like she hates me or, at least, hates what happened. But hopefully, our eating pact was a step in the right direction.

Sam doesn’t have dysfunctional behavior around food when she’s with me. She relaxes and enjoys eating when we do it together. However, she’s been avoiding me, and I’m guessing that’s part of the reason behind her behavior. The concept of supervising her meals is difficult to explain to my mother.

“I love you, honey, but you’re not a professional. If she’s been conditioned this way her whole life, it might take someone with experience in the field to train her to eat right.”

I grunt in her direction and enter my credit card number into yet another juice and smoothie delivery service.

“You love her. I get that. But maybe you can’t be the one to fix her, is all I’m saying,” Lizzy says as she dries her hands on a dishtowel.

I pick up a piece of the shrimp tempura we’ve ordered and dip it in the sauce. I ordered food to Sam’s apartment, but I have no way of knowing if she consumed it. I’ve noticed most things live in her refrigerator untouched until they expire.

Mom sits down, grabs a piece of tempura, and pops it in her mouth. She looks at me intently, patting and then grabbing my arm. “Dash, I’m telling you from experience. You cannot be someone’s lover and keeper at the same time. It’ll get confusing, and the boundaries will become blurry. I know you want to help Sam, but this might not be your battle to fight.” She rubs my arm and looks at me so earnestly that I feel like a dumbass.

“I don’t know if anyone besides Sam and me gets our relationship,” I say defensively.

“And they don’t have to. But what happens if she blows a deal or makes a decision you don’t approve of? What if she’s so sick that it ruins her chances of making a certain company? Don’t put yourself in the position of having to be the one to push and protect her, shield her and shove her into the spotlight. You should be her refuge from all that. Besides, you’ve got your own career to think of.”

Once Mom has retreated to the den to watch the news and drink her tea, I slip out the front door and make my way down the hall to Natayla’s apartment barefoot and wearing basketball shorts. I haven’t talked to her since our encounter in the bathroom. All I know is that she hasn’t passed out in class this week.

She pops open the door wearing a white babydoll t-shirt that’s completely see-through and a pair of silk shorts that make her muscular legs look even longer. I can see her dusky nipples clearly through her t-shirt and all I can think about is tearing it off, latching onto her, and suckling until she can no longer take it.

“Thank you for the sushi,” she says primly.

I put my hands on my hips and shake my head at her with a sly grin. “Is it in the fridge or in your belly?”

“A little bit of both.”

“Can I come in?”

“Nope.”

“Do you still hate me?”

Nothing.

“I’d take it back if I could.”

“The sushi or the cucumber?”

“Fuck. Listen. You can hate me all you want, but I am never going to stop taking care of you. You can reject me. You can push me away, but I can’t stop how I feel about you or my need to keep you safe, to feed you, to try to shield you from those who want to do you harm. I fucked up, and I know it. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I won’t give up on you,” I tell her, bracing my hands on the door frame.

“You want to control me just like Mother. You want to know exactly what I put in my mouth. You want to decide which roles I dance and where I go and micro-manage every move. I can’t live like that.” Her cheeks flush pink when she yells and her nipples tighten against the brush of the fabric.

I want to bury myself inside her and fuck her until she’s sore from coming on my cock. “Jesus, Sam,” I say, hitting my head on the door frame. I leave my forehead connected to the wood and my eyes closed so I’m not distracted by her sexy body. “What do you want? Tell me what the fuck you want, and I’ll do it.”

It’s my complete surrender to her. I’ll let her control me if that’s what she needs. She can dictate what I eat, what I dance, I don’t fucking care. I need Sam in my life, and I’ll accept the cost, no matter how steep or unconventional or how much I have to bend.