Page 69 of Redline Baby

My voice is muffled against him.

"We can stay here as long as you need."

So we do. He doesn't rush it. Doesn't reach for his phone. Doesn't check the time. He just holds me and lets his hand move steadily through my hair until my breathing evens out and the tightness in my chest loosens enough that I can feel the warmth of the room again instead of only the cold thing behind my ribs.

"Better?" he asks eventually.

"A little."

"Good."

He presses another kiss to my temple.

"Come on. I'm making eggs. Then you and I are going to talk about some things." My stomach tightens again. Soren notices. "Nothing scary." His thumb moves against my skin. "Rules. The dynamic. What you need from me. What I need from you. Structure." A pause. "You like structure."

"Yes, Daddy, I like structure," I agree, still small.

"Good boy,” he says it easily.

I follow him into the kitchen wearing one of his old T-shirts, which practically swallows me whole, and sit at the small square table while he cooks. I watch his back. The way he moves through his own kitchen. By the time he sets my plate down, I'm quieter than I've been in longer than I can remember.

Then I find myself staring at scrambled eggs. Perfectly cooked. Folded with melted cheese. Sitting in the center of a white ceramic plate while I push the same piece around with my fork for two full minutes. The metal tines scrape softly against the porcelain. Soren sits across from me with a ceramic mug of black coffee in his right hand.

"You're mutilating the eggs." I look up. "Eat, Kit."

"We're about to talk about our dynamic."

"I know."

"And I'm nervous."

"I know that too," he says, amused.

"I might need to mutilate something."

"The eggs have done nothing to deserve this."

I laugh.

But then the memories start coming. Charles. His rules. His silences. The way uncertainty could stretch for days until I couldn't tell whether I'd done something wrong or whether he was simply tired of me. My chest starts closing again.

"Tell me what's on your mind, baby boy."

Soren is looking at me with that infinite patience of his. I don't feel like I deserve it right now. I don't answer. He waits. Of course he does.

The silence gets bigger. Not cold. Just empty enough that eventually I have to put something honest inside it.

"He was volatile," I say quietly. And then everything comes pouring out. My eyes fill with tears. My chin starts shaking. "Charles. If I broke a rule, he didn't correct it cleanly. He'd just go cold."

Soren doesn't interrupt.

"The silence could last for days. He'd let me twist in it until I was begging him to tell me what I'd done wrong."

My fork drops onto the plate.

"I can't do the silence, Soren." My voice breaks. "I can't do withdrawal."

Soren reaches across the table and takes my hand.