Hansel 2(An Erotic Fairy Tale)(8)
“Yeah?” I squeeze his hand, hoping to ground him.
His eyes flutter open. “They’re you,” he whispers to the silence.
My heart slows. “Who is me?”
He swallows as he draws one leg up to his chest, wrapping an arm around it as he lays his head against his knee.
“Too much vodka,” he moans. He releases my hand, and raises his to clutch his head.
I’m going to ask him if he feels sick when he looks up, again, at me. “You’re beautiful,” he tells me. “They’re all you.”
“Who’s me?”
“The subs.” His leg drops back to the floor, and his head sinks back to the headrest. “I’m sorry, Leah. I’m so fuckin’…drunk.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m here, and I’ve got you, and we’re going to your house.”
“Not my house…because echoes. Numb. An I don’…like it. Want to feel…it hurt. ’S the only way.”
“Hansel?” I whisper. I’m worried he really does have a concussion. What the hell does any of that mean?
His eyelids crack open. “Hansel…” He squints. “Not my name.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “What’s your name?”
He doesn’t reply, just sits there very still, his shoulders almost wider than the seat, his thick arms in his lap, I wonder if I made a mistake taking him away from the ambulance. I feel better when, a half mile or so from the Forest, he looks over at me.
“You don’t have to take me, group home’s got some spaces. You’re too young, remember?”
My heart clenches. What is he talking about?
“You said you’re too young to be my mom?”
“I’m not your mom,” I whisper.
“I know.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to cup his face. “No one is.”
Holy shit. I can’t believe he’s saying this. He never talked about this when we shared the wall. As theories about his words fly through my mind, I grapple for a response.
“Everybody has a mother,” say gently, finally.
“I don’t.” He looks at my face, and when his gaze meets mine, his brows furrow. He shakes his head. He holds his stomach. “I feel…sick.”
“Do you need me to pull over? Can you make it another quarter of a mile?”
He doesn’t answer or even look at me, but he grabs onto my knee with his big hand, holding like he’s afraid I’ll leave. He leans against the side of his seat and holds onto me till we arrive at the club.
I park in the circle drive in front, where a few valets come our way, and his eyes open. They’re warm, but…distant. “You’ve got a pretty mouth,” he murmurs. “Want to come with me?”
He shifts his shoulders, like his upper body is uncomfortable, and as he does, his shirt tugs, revealing a compact disc-sized blood stain underneath his arm, over his ribs.
“Shit. You’re bleeding.” Not just there; the little spot on his head is still oozing, too.
His vacant gaze clings to mine. “I can still fuck you.” He reaches down between his legs, and I’m shocked to find he’s hard.
Who is this man? He’s nothing like the Hansel who greeted me earlier today, and he’s nothing like the guy I knew.
“Let’s get out. I’ll go in with you.”
“That’s why you’re not her,” he says in a low, dark voice, as I reach for the door handle. “No one is. I try to find them.”
“Who do you try to find?” I ask.
“Other hers.” I’ve got one leg out the door. I step all the way out, then lean back in, despite the valet waiting behind me.
“You mean…submissives?” I ask.
“I don’t have subs... Did you read…the NDA?” His words are whispered. Someone opens his door, and I rush around to that side. I find him staring blankly at the warehouse-style building, ignoring the offers of help from one of the valets and swaying slightly on his feet.
I wrap my arm gently around his back, relishing the feel of his body under mine. I follow one of the valets’ pointing fingers toward a side door, where I help him up the stairs, moving slowly, at his pace.
I keep expecting him to say something else, but he never even looks at me as we come to the door. He stands there, breathing shallowly and staring at it, and a second later, it opens from the inside.
As soon as we step into the dark, torch-lit hallway, it seems like the entire staff at The Forest rushes around us.
“Is Edgar ill?” asks one with a French accent.
“What the fuck happened to him?” one of the bouncers asks. He looks at me as if I did something to ‘Edgar’.