Page 64 of About the Green

“I... I don't know, but it hurts coming up,” I admit, thinking back to when I woke up in his arms.

“Hurts like what?”

“It hurts to not hurt him back…” Too exposed. He’s too soft and caring and it’s foreign. I couldn’t trust it and my instincts were screaming at me to fight back. Even though running was as best as I could do.

“Is he hurting you?” She asks, no judgement in her eyes. She knows my past and why I'm hesitant to submit in the first place.

The sting of his rejection still looms heavy over me. My sore eyes and throat are a testament to it. He’s leaving even after everything. “He has...”

“He’s hurting you. Who is he?”

Her assumption is wrong though I want someone else to share in this ire that is my own. I can’t let her paint the unknown—to her—partner of mine in a bad light when he hasn’t actually done anything wrong to me. “No... he's not hurting me. No... he... he...”

My words trip all over themselves as I struggle to describe what it's like to submit to Vert and then be abandoned. “It’s good. He’s good. I’ve been doing my best to get the memories under control in my head. He’s not at all like I expected. Controlling or demanding isn’t the word. He lead me right to the place I wanted to be and didn’t give me any slack to wander. I loved how close he kept me under his control, never letting me deviate far enough to miss what he had to give me.” Shaking my head at my own description, I admit, “I enjoyed it too much.”

“You can't enjoy something too much,” she winks, ever playful. “Though I imagine if the dick is that good, you might be disoriented after so long of it being a job instead of for pleasure. Is he on the list?”

“No. I haven’t had a list in a while,” I acknowledge. Ever since Racquelle forced her Senior to inform the family of her assent, there has been no real use for me. I sit by her side and wait for instruction to do what I’d grown used to. Lure and killing her threats. My passion project on the side never interfered with me sitting by her and propping her up. “But I'm still taking creeps out, you know, all those men that have preyed on vulnerable girls, ones like me, who just wanted to be cared for. I'm still taking them out, and he thinks it's hurting the family. He...”

“Do you think it is?”

Picking at a nail, “I don't think so. I don't know for sure. Maybe I'm getting too much pleasure ridding the world of these fucking scumbags.”

She nods in understanding, her own bias for justice in this way evident. Then she surprises me, “Well, maybe you should let him in more.”

I balk. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, what else are you going to do? You can't lie to your dom.”

“He's not my dom,” I shriek unexpectedly. Mine? No. He’s leaving. He’s leaving me. “That has never been discussed. He’s…”

“Oh. The feelings I see written all over your face tells me he absolutely is, and if he's doing what he's doing right, I'm sure it does scare you.

Shaking my head vehemently. “I don’t catch feelings. I only tempt and then torture men.”

“But you don't want to do that to him? You said it hurts to not hurt him back. So you don't hurt him. You don't want to. That's wholly new for you and a partner. This is growth whether you see it or not, Nina.”

I don't answer, instead straightening a few of the colorful bracelets on my arm, the ones I'd stacked extra high to cover my scars.

“It's not you that makes these men do what they do. It was never you who made him do what he did to you. You don't have to punish yourself. You don't have to avoid loving someone else for fear that you'll make them be some way that they aren't. Whoever this is, you should allow them to see you.” Her soft eyes meet mine as she holds my hand to her heart. “Let them love you. There's nothing wrong with you, and there never has been. My greatest regret in life is that this happened to you, and there was nothing I could do to stop it sooner.”

“I…” I inhale shakily too overwhelmed right now. Everything feels too visceral coming from her perspective. “It was never your fault, but it was mine.”

“You were young, and we're all doing stuff we shouldn't be fucking doing. You weren't born into this life, and hell, your life was hard from the fucking get-go. You're doing the best you can. As long as you're not taking out anybody innocent, we don't judge you. We would never. "

"But he does," I admit in a small voice.

"Probably because he doesn't know what you're doing or why you're doing it." She says, giving me her understanding gaze again.

"He cares about my scars. Wants to help me…”

She knows what I'm talking about as soon as I say the words. “You need to let him see you. Seriously, Nina, don't let all of us poison you against finding someone you can love. My partner's not meant to be a man, I'm meant to be with someone else.” Her lips quiver somewhere between a smile and a frown. “But that doesn't mean that you don't have to be with a man if you're... if you're attracted to him, if he cares for you, if he shares your kink. There's nothing more magical than that kind of connection.”

My tongue brushes against the blade in my cheek. “You make it sound like some kind of fairy tale.”

She sighs dreamily, exaggerating fainting back onto the couch, pulling me with her into a hug. “It might not be today, but I'd like to meet this guy, whoever he is.”

Before I can respond a message vibrates on my phone in my pocket. I pull it out to make sure it’s not Racquelle but it isn’t.