Tears of Tess

Blood rushed into my ears. The songs about needing to fight and claim. I wanted to slap myself for not seeing. Q needed someone who matched his darkness, waged the same war between pleasure and pain.

We were so similar, yet he never let me get close to show him. I ruined it. The police gave an ultimatum, and Q had no choice but to accept.

Swallowing hard, Franco added, “Q deals with a lot. I hoped he finally found the one person who could help him. But then you ran, and it’s come to an end.”

Franco dropped his arms, stepping back, withdrawing in one swift move. “I’m sorry for what you dealt with in Mexico, and what Lefebvre did to you, but it’s time for you to forget about Mr. Mercer, and go back to your boyfriend.”

The mention of Brax shot a poker through my heart. What a terrible girlfriend I turned out to be. If Q wanted me, I would never have left. I would’ve let Brax fumble without me, stomping on my promise that I would never leave. Will I ever live with myself?

Franco pushed me toward the taxi stands. Rows of cars waited, bright under glaring lights.

Shoving something into my hands, he said, “This is for your troubles. Goodbye, Ms. Snow.”

I wanted to scream as Franco strode away and disappeared. I hated my last name. I missed esclave. I missed what the word meant: belonging. Not just to Q, but an entire different existence.

I didn’t know how long I stood on the footpath, clutching the envelope Franco gave, but eventually I had no choice but to move. Move forward. Try and forget.

In a daze, I shuffled to the taxi stand.

A driver quirked a bushy black eyebrow. “No luggage, little lady?”

I blinked. The moment I got in the car, my life would suck me along, and I would never be able to stop it. I would become Tessie again. Fierce Tess would be no more. Q would be no more.

Q was wrong about one thing. Something about me was broken: my heart.

Shaking my head, I mumbled. “No, no luggage.”

Get through today, then think about tomorrow. One baby step at a time.

Sliding into the plastic wrapped interior, I gave him my address. Our address. Me and Brax.

I was going home.

Chapter 22

*Bell Bird*

I didn’t have a key.

Running fingers along the top of the doorframe, I found the spare. Our apartment resided on the bottom floor of a building of eight units. A one bedroom, chilly box, with no sun or views, but we decorated with bright fabrics and Brax’s DIY projects.

Dammit, fit.

The key wouldn’t slide into the lock because I shook so much.

I was home. The place where I’d been happy, but clueless as to who I was. Walking through the door meant so much more than just returning. By doing this, I let Q win. I let him disown me.

I hunched, holding my stomach, trying to gather strength. My eyes rested on Brax’s steel-capped boots on the door mat, and my heart hung heavy in my chest.

You can’t ever let Brax see you like this, Tess… Tessie. This pain is private.

I straightened, sucking in gulps of air. Brax expected a relieved and distraught girlfriend, not a woman vibrating with need for another. Not a woman craving a whip and violence.

I undid the lock and stepped over the threshold.

Fear hit first.

Fear of sameness—the overwhelming homeliness created by Tessie and Brax. It reached like eager claws ready to suck me unwillingly into the past.

My feet stuck to the floor, locking in place, battling an unbearable need to run. The longer I stood trembling with fear, the more confused I was. My mind struggled with two sets of memories: Tessie and Tess. Brax and Q. Australia and France. They wouldn’t mesh and in my swirling confusion, the apartment worked a terrible magic. Soothing my terror, making it feel as if I never left.

Q? Who was that? A figment of my imagination.

Mexico? As if, Brax would never travel so far from home.

In a blink, the last two and a half months faded from reality to dream. I grasped at tendrils, forcing myself not to forget. I could never forget. No matter how painful, I wanted to wear the memories like armour, so I never grew weak again.

I inched forward, hands curled. Daisy curtains were drawn haphazardly, just like Brax did every time. A dirty plate languished in the sink in our tiny cream kitchen, and his red tool bag blocked the corridor leading to the bathroom and bedroom.

No lights were on, only shadows. I tiptoed through my own home, feeling like an intruder. I didn’t belong. I never belonged.

A bang came from the bedroom.

I crouched, ready to sprint, instincts on high alert.

Claws clacked on floorboards and a loud bark hurt the silence. Blizzard charged from the bedroom. The husky bounded over the tool bag and crashed against my legs.

The moment his hot doggy body touched mine, I folded to the floor. I never liked Blizzard, but he signified Brax completely. Eager, happy, loyal to the end.

Dog breath made my nose wrinkle as he slobbered, tail wagging so hard his butt wiggled. “Calm down, Blizzard. I don’t need drowning in kisses.”

He whimpered as I pushed him away, needing some air. Forcing his massive body onto my lap, he licked with his road-rash tongue. Giving in, I pressed my face into his ruff. “You missed me, huh? You better not have chewed my handbags while I’ve been gone.”

Blizzard yipped.

A loud thud and a muffled curse came from the bedroom.

I froze. Blizzard sensed my mood and clambered off, darting down the corridor to where his master appeared.

My heart churned. Master. Blizzard was owned. I no longer was.

Brax stumbled as Blizzard careened into him, then looked up.

Our eyes locked—sky-blue to grey-blue. I was so used to pale green, I flinched.

Brax’s jaw hung open and tension erupted.

My insides rippled with complex bewilderment. Old Tess would’ve flown down the corridor and into Brax’s arms, slamming us to the floor. She would’ve burst into tears and kissed him all over. So, so happy to be back with someone who cared enough to share their life with her.

New Tess waged World War Ten in her heart. Q still held me captive, even though I tried to shrug off his conditioning. Q didn’t consider how distraught and lonely I would be. He proved he wasn’t a good master. Everyone knows, after captivity, a pet doesn’t survive in the wild. He should be punished.

You don’t belong to him. Not any longer. But how was I supposed to live after Q? I knew what true belonging meant. It hadn’t been ethical or normal, but I’d been treasured and priceless. I didn’t just want to belong. I wanted to be ruled. And Brax would never rule me. He couldn’t.