So...guess what? Last night "Leed" wrote a song. The song is completely original, inspired by the story and is included in entirety in the chapter . I didn't "song-claim" and use another song's melody and cadence to inspire, but I did spend a LONG time today, perusing Spotify to find a song that I thought would give you the vibe of Leed's song. I think it would be something like Alone With You by Canyon City. Obviously, Leed writing a song in one night would mean a simple acoustic arrangement, and I like this songs melancholy feel on the verses, but how it becomes more hopeful during the chorus, which is sort of similar to the dynamic in Leed's song. Also, it has a sort of "love's journey" theme which exactly coincides with Leed's lyrics. So yeah, the melody and cadence are different, but this is the kind of song "Leed" wrote...
Ashlynn
It's surreal to wake in my old bed at Trace's, stretch in the thousand dollar sheets I shamefully clothed the bed in, and breathe in the slightly floral smell that flows from the en suite bathroom, which is stocked with piles of ten-dollar organic bath bombs and fancy french-milled soaps that I hardly ever used.
I don't even remember buying most of the stuff in the room, but I'm sure it was during the early days when I was still swinging from sober and hurting to high on pills and retail therapy. It wasn't just me...Trace went through a "holy shit I'm fucking loaded phase" right about the time we got married. His income was growing exponentially every month, with the royalties and the first tour profits and the endorsements flooding in. It was one of the few pleasurable things we did together...sitting on the couch with a laptop, rounding out the professional decorating of his brand new rock star mansion with tidbits from the most elite online brands. He appreciated the help with the details and back then I was too out of balance to mind spending his money.
Yes, my old bedroom is luxurious and cozy , and to be honest, it feels more like home than the new place, but I can feel no pleasure from being here.
I left my heart three doors down the road.
I wonder what Leed is doing. If he slept, if he's hungover. I think about last night and I wish I had reacted differently to his crazy proposal. Not agreed, I don't mean that...but I wish I hadn't walked out in disbelief and frustration. I wish I had stayed and made him see, we just aren't ready for that, even if we do love each other. Especially because we love each other. There's too much at stake. Our love is too new, too fragile. Jumping in to being married when you are just learning someone is too shocking, too abrasive. I don't want to bruise and chafe what we are growing when its so young and tender.
I get that Leed is a little bit crazy right now. Having to see those paintings of me must have been...infuriating and overwhelming and confusing. I know he must have a million worries, a million questions. I know it's not fair to leave him in the dark.
I'm going to have to tell him...some things. Maybe if I can explain, Leed will be able to see that he isn't obsessed with me. He's just an egomaniac that obsessed with his victories. He's having those pictures painted to to focus on the days he "won", when I submitted willingly, and found relief from my brain pain and addiction in his methods. But he didn't actually "win" me in the end, because the night I left for good, he lost the one thing he values mostâhis control. That's why I know, he would never swallow his considerable pride to ask me to submit to him again, because we both know what he is.
Leed was so right, he's not a responsible caretaker, a man that assumes the role of a Dom for mutual pleasure. He's a sociopath with a very attractive disguise. But he's a prideful sick person and I saw his weakness. That probably makes me the last person he ever wants to see again, except in the moments hanging on his wall...in the moments that proved him rightâin the moments I found some relief for my pain, in his methods.
But now I know a better wayâa regimen that I control, a therapy that lets me feel whole all the time, not just beneath his hands. A way of life that makes me feel whole and happy, not desperate and dirty.
Speaking of my health regimen...I roll to my feet, resisting the urge to reach for my phone and call Leed. If I do, we'll probably have a long conversation and then he'll either be walking here or I'll be walking there, and somehow I imagine the making up might involve our bodies in various positions but probably not too much yoga.
And I need my yoga. My two-times-a-day-practice is slipping lately, and so far I haven't had any headaches, but the yoga does more for me than that. It keeps my addictive behaviors under control. Last night, I noticed for the first time, being around alcohol was harder for me than normal. I was tense and craving that fuzzy feeling I knew Leed was getting, even though I also knew perfectly well, having a few drinks would end in a bad headache and would likely have me craving pill relief to recover from that.
I open one of the boxes still in the bottom of my old closet and find a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra. I rummage the boxes. All dingy stuff, ready for the donation pile. No t-shirts. No long length tops. God, was everything I wore when I was high and married to Trace indecent?
Not really, but most of what's left hereâcasual workout clothes--was cropped, it's just the style I didn't need scar coverage when I lived here. The only scars I had then were the couple of cigarettes burns...one on my hip that I actually did myself by passing out from pills while smoking a cigarette, and the one that would be covered by a sports braâthe one Donny the Douche-Bag promoter gave me for taking a pill without asking. I remember how shocked, how confused I was by his sudden violence at a party, with so many people around.
I remember how he found me sniffling in one of the bathrooms of that party mansion, looking for burn cream or at least a band-aid. How he treated my wound with tenderness. How he kicked Donny out of the party, and how he asked me if I had a place to stay. When I said I had been staying with Donny, he sent me in a car to the Wilshire and told me I could have his suite for week, until I figured something out.
I did figure something out...or rather, Trace figured something out for me, because before the week was out, Donny was harassing me at a club again, and Trace and I went to Vegas.
I dress in the workout clothes and walk into the bathroom. Part of the "O" and the "RE" are visible down my left side. I square my shoulders as I stare. Usually I try to avoid looking in the mirror until I'm fully dressed, but I need to get used to seeing it, if I'm going to get used to the idea of Leed seeing it.
I know it doesn't matter anymore. I know he knows it's there. I know in his generous and kind heart, he only sees it as a horrible thing someone did to me and not as a brand, labeling me for what I was. But it's still hard.
Because I was. He made me a whore. He commanded me to sleep with his Dom friends, for various business favors. I submitted. After that, in the times that I would leave, before I would return to him, it was easy for me to sleep with other men, for other favors I needed.
Sharing shame is probably the most honest and hardest thing anyone ever does. I'm pretty sure for me it's up there with conquering addiction.
I turn from the mirror and walk back into the bedroom, peaking out onto the deck. There's no one there...Trace and Kat probably won't be up for awhile. I throw open the doors and practice yoga in the spot of sunshine that grows on the floor just inside the door. A nice hour-long session. I'm relaxing in shavasana when I hear balcony doors at the other end of the deck open. I rise and quickly close mine but Trace hears and walks down the deck, knocking on my door. "Hey Ash, you up?"
"Yeah, just finished yoga," I call brightly.
He pauses, expecting me to open the door. I don't. My scars are too wide to cover by clamping my arm down to my side.
"Well...uhm...we were thinking of going to breakfast before Kat goes home to pack. You wanna come?"
"Uhhhm...I should probably bite the bullet and talk to Leed," I sigh.
He snorts. "Yeah. He really does know how out of control he was, you know. He can be a maniac when he gets stressed."
"Yeah, I'm learning that," I say.
"So...you good then? I mean...if we head out?"
I open the door a crack. "Uhm...actually...I don't have anything to wear except my dress from last night. Will you ask Kat to bring me...a tâshirt or something?"
"There's stuff still in your closet," he reminds me.
"Yeah I looked. None of it...works anymore."
He's silent as he comprehends my meaning. "Sure."
Kat is not so accommodating to my privacy as Trace. When I reach through the door to grab the T-shirt, she grabs my hand and slips inside the door, wrapping me in a tight hug. Then she grabs my head, and never looking at my scar, she says, "You are so beautiful. I know you think that scar makes you ugly, but it doesn't. It just makes you a survivor and it makes me so proud of you for coming out of all the things you've been through."
We both nod through tears and I yank the shirt over my head and cover the letters ribbing my skin before she has a chance to get a good look. "Breakfast?" she asks cheerfully.
"I think I have a lion to tame," I smile.
She scowls and begins a pacing rant. "Do you want me to come with you and bash some sense into him? I am so fucking furious with him right now! What the hell was he thinking? Asking you to marry him by contract is not only insulting, it's insanity. It's the very definition of insanityâdoing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. God, he's so...reckless. Just like the night at the concert when he outed me as Little Sister. He just acts, he doesn't think, he doesn't hold back...he's like a child. Like a big, dumb, dorkyâ"
"Kat."
She turns. "Yeah?"
"That's my boyfriend you are talking about. He is sometimes crazy, but he's also incredibly caring. And he's definitely not dorky. He's hot as hell."
She crosses her arms and grins her evil grin. "Not that hot. But, I'm glad to hear that you still consider him your boyfriend."
I swat at her. "Did you just mind-fuck me to get me to defend him?"
"What? No," she grins. "I am pissed at him. Sort of. He's not wrong about wanting to protect you, though. If you'd just tell the guys who that fucker is, then they wouldn't be so spastic, worrying about you..."
"There's no point. If I name him, it's a thing. It's not a thing. It's really over. I mean think about it, Kat. He has my number. I didn't change my phone. He hasn't called me once, not since the night he gave me the scar. He's as done with me as I am with him. The paintings are just...a vanity thing. He had pictures of the..." I hesitate, the "girls before me. He showed me. He used them like...a tutorial, because I was clueless about...all that stuff."
She saw the pictures. Kat at eighteen is a lot more worldly than I was at twenty-two. She can read between the lines of what she saw and know what my relationship with him was like.
"Still. You don't mind he has pictures of you like that?"
I shrug. I can't really explain that it doesn't matter...that he has photos, videos. He has everything. Every piece of my shame is on film...except the night I screamed the safeword over and over, and he held me down, continuing to cut. We weren't in his playroom that night. We were in Seattle at a friend's placeâpart of his Dom club.
Kat sighs. "Will you tell me about it? Not now, I mean, but...someday?"
I shrug again. The answer is no, but I don't want to start a fight. Kat accepts my noncommittal gesture, but she asks another. "Would you tell us, if he did contact you again?"
"Of course," I say easily. That's not necessarily true either, but no way am I going down the path of explanations there.
If I thought he wanted to hurt me again, I would take action, but that doesn't mean I could run to Leed or Trace for help. But losing control like he did on me, that's not his typical style. I really don't think I'm in any danger from him. I do worry about my replacement, though. I'm sure he has a new Sub. I can only hope she knew what she signed up for and that she's more suited to that lifestyle than I was. I hope he realized what a horrible mistake he made with me. I hope he's more in control now. I hope he has someone without health and addiction complications like I had. Someone that likes discipline for sexual pleasure, not as a way to control their addiction. Someone that didn't fail him, and make him feel like a failure.
He hates to lose.
"Okay. Good," Kat is saying in response to me. "Make sure that maniac with red hair knows that. Maybe he won't act so crazy." I nod. She goes to leave.
"Hey Kat..."
She turns.
"Remember, Leed and I are still minimizing things this weekend in Nashville. I don't want Baby Mama Drama or Mac demanding details..."
Kat just rolls her eyes and makes a lip-zipping motion. "Remind Trace," I call after her.
Then I am alone, finally checking my phone, hoping against hope that Leed has at least texted me...something. I'll walk to his house and knock on the door, but it would be nice to know he'll open the door and maybe open his arms to me.
I have one text from him, a video file he sent around 4 am.
I open it to find Leed sitting in his music room, a guitar at the ready. He rakes his hairâgrimacing like he always does as he realizes his length is no longer thereâthen he takes a sip off coffee and places the cup off camera.
"So yeah," he grins like he's embarrassed, stroking a couple of quick chords on his Martin. He looks back at the camera. "Christ, girl, you got me so desperate I'm, like, sixteen again and making an apology mix tape." He shakes his head and takes another sip of coffee. "Not really. A mix tape doesn't cut it for an epic fuck-up like I made. I couldn't sleep until I worked it all out in my head...until I could see the place where we need to be right now. But I've got it straight now, and I've layed it down, in a song." His face is so full of emotion as he nods slowly at me, in the camera. "This is December Dawn."
A melancholy, bittersweet lick opens the song and then Leed leans forward, his voice buttery soft as it flows into the filter and condenser mic.
The night we met was Winter Solstice
So many times I've played it back
Smile at the way you patched me up
Laugh at the way I guessed your name
Regret the way you passed me up
Hate you left and found the rain
Loved you that first night I knew you
Nothing like I love you now
Your road's been hard I should love softly
But I go crazy and thrash around
You run scared but you ain't lost me
Use your ways to slow us down
The guitar pitches to a more optimistic tone and the song speeds slightly at the chorus.
Yeah I know your heart's a little guarded.
But girl you know my hope is strong.
Let's steal back days we never charted.
Leave behind what all went wrong
Follow me back right where we started
We'll kiss the bright December Dawn
Yeah let's meet the day and make it new
I'll close my eyes and trust in you
I'll walk with you the way you need me
From winters kiss to summer's song
There's no hurry, the spring blooms sweetly
Love grows bright while nights stay long
Let's steal back days we never charted.
Leave behind what all went wrong
Follow me back right where we started
We'll kiss the bright December Dawn
Wherever we may claim the day
Big city or some forgotten world
I'll sing you happy and win your smiles
I was wrong 'bout where we're going
It ain't the place but the log of miles
That binds the love we both are growing
He plays with surety at the bridge, his voice flowing with strength now.
And when your heart's no longer guarded
And when I'm sure my love streams long
That's when we should climb the highest mountain
Til then, Sunny, share my song
Let's steal back days we never charted
Leave behind what all went wrong
Follow me back right where we started
We'll kiss the bright December Dawn
Let's steal back days we never charted
Leave behind what all went wrong
Follow me back right where we started
We'll kiss the bright December Dawn
The way the man can put his soul into a songâfor meâand make me feel so...sheltered...I could forgive him nearly anything. Certainly a dumb, premature marriage proposal. Hell, I forgave Trace for talking me into it while I was high, and he's...not Leed.
I'm crying, barely able to see his expression on my tiny phone screen as he leans back from the mic. "Miss you," he says softly. "I hope you are sleeping better than me." Then he's in still-frame, as he switches the video off.
By the time I make it down the sidewalk and to his door, I've given up trying to stop the tears. They flow freely as I punch in the code to his gate.
Sawyer is in the kitchen making eggs. He gives me a lop-sided grin and a tissue. "He's in the music room."
Leed's long frame is thrown on the low leather couch like he fought a battle for sleep. I pause in the doorway, admiring how perfect he is.
For some reason, I think of Matt del Marco, and how young he looked in all those big-hair-bad-quality videos in the eighties, and yet somehow, despite the gray hair and the passage of years on his face, Matt is still the same guy. The same smile. The same arrogant set to his stride as he owns a stage. The same pitch of confidence to his voice. The same rock solid rocker.
Leed is the same. He's young, but he's timeless. Years will never take his youth because his soul shines through.
It hits me all at once...I'm in love with a legend.
This could be one helluva ride.
I kick off my shoes and pad across the room, pulling the throw I left on the piano bench just yesterday morning and crawling right on top of Leed, wrapping us both in the blanket.
He stirs, his arms coming round me. "Hey," he says, eyes still closed, like me putting myself all over him is already completely natural to him. "Play your song?"
"Yeah," I whisper, snuggling against his shoulder. "You are so underutilized in Soundcrush, you know that, right?"
He chuckles. "That's all you have to say?"
"No. I am beyond moved by the song. And I love you. Lots. And I'm glad you don't want to marry me anymore."
His sleep laugh is so sexy. "You're funny."
"Sometimes. You're crazy."
"Sometimes."
We bask in the comfort of each other.
"Ash?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not going to demand his name anymore, okay?"
"Thank you."
"But you've got to do some things, for me. For my sanity."
"I already told you, I'm okay with security."
"I know. But you've got to be honest with me. If the guy that hurt you ever contacts you, will you promise to let me know?"
It's not going to happen so I guess I can promise that. "Okay."
"And I need you to think about...telling me...a little bit at a time, when you can. I feel like I can't love you right, with a big dark hole in your past like that. We have to shine light on it together. Then it won't seem so scary, to either of us."
I prop my chin on his chest. "You're scared?"
He opens his eyes, seeing my tears, wiping them with his thumbs. "I'm terrified of doing something that reminds you of him."
I push up his chest, pressing my lips to his. He lets me suck his bottom lip for a long time before he gently deepens the kiss. My core warms instantly, anticipating pleasure. I sigh against his tongue. "I don't think it's possible, Leed. Your energy is so different. Your power is warm, natural. Loving."
"I'm glad you feel that way. I always want you to feel safe with me."
"I do."
"See how simple it would have been?"
I blink, then I finally get it as his shit-eating grin spreads. I do. I slap his chest lightly. "You joking about asking me to marry you under contract is a hard limit okay?"
"Wait, you can joke about hard limits but I can't joke about marriage contracts?"
"Pain is best diffused with humor."
He frowns. "It's not funny to me. The idea of someone hurting you..."
"I know," I tell him. "You're right. I need to tell you how it was, so that you don't drive yourself crazy over it. It was maybe different...maybe a lot different, than what you are imagining. I'll tell you...how it started, a little of how it was, and how it ended. I can do that. I've talked to my therapist about it alot."
Leed's heart beat speeds up beneath my ear. "Okay." The word is strained.
"Not just now. Let's not get tense before the trip. Let's have a nice night in Nashville. Maybe after moving day if we can find some alone time while we're hanging out. But you have to do something for me, okay?"
"Anything," he says softly.
"I...I need us to have separate rooms in Nashville."
He groans and grabs my ass, wedging me into the couch interior. "Christ, anything but that, Ashlynn."
"Please. I just don't want Tamara getting upset...because if Tamara gets snippy, Mac is likely to flip out on her. It could ruin the whole weekend."
"Tamara is going to have to get used to us, sooner or later. My preference is sooner."
"My preference is no drama until your sister is safely delivered from her high-risk pregnancy."
Leed groans again, this time into my boobs, but it's a groan of surrender. "Goddamn. Fine. Only because of Mac. Not because of Tam."
"Kat and Trace have promised to not make a big deal about us, either. So far as everybody needs to know...we are still...in-between."
Leed is talking to my boobs now, because he can. "The head of your operation is very cruel. You beautiful girls aren't going to be that mean to me, are you? You gonna show me some love before the head pretends like she doesn't even know me on the plane to Nashville?" His hand is creeping up my right side. He skims up to my sports bra, expertly tugging once to free my right breast. He palms it gently and circles my nipple. "Mmmm-hhhhmmm. That's what I'm talking about. Perfect in my hand. Absolutely perfect. Perfect size, perfect shape, perfect feel, like your boob and my hand were custom made for each other."
He's driving me insane with the slow circling of his thumb. "Do you always talk so much when you torture your fangirls?"
He laughs. "Just my number one fangirl." He sucks my nipple through the t-shirt. I hiss and tug his hair, and he sucks a little harder. In seconds, my leg is over his hip and he's grinding against my center through my thin yoga pants, waking parts of me that only he seems to know how to coax.
"You wanna come right now?" he whispers. "Cause I wanna come right now, and this a fun way I nearly forgot all about."
I do. What he's doing feels so good, but I doubt it will happen for me, like this. "I...I...maybe...can't...like this..."
His mouth closes around the wet patch of Kat's tshirt, his tongue flicking the hardened nub beneath. Shocking thrills run through me and my center throbs. My hips have a will of their own and they start to rock with his.
"Bet me," he growls.
"You'd lose. She really can't." Sawyer's voice is bored.
Leed, twists around, holding my leg on his hip as I try to jerk away, and says, cool as shit. "How does it feel to be unemployed, man?"
"Fine. Fire me for doing my job," Sawyer slaps what looks like some travel documents down on the piano and picks up Leed's phone, thumbing in the passcode. "She can't because there's no time for making out like fucking fourteen year olds right now. Airport transport is here. Tam, Ben and Baby on board. If I'm fired, you can answer the door with your massive boner, cause your Baby Mama is outfront and impatient that you aren't taking her call." He flashes the notifications to show five missed calls from Tam in the last ten minutes then stalks out, presumably to get the door.
"Oh god," I pull the blanket over my head.
Leed laughs. "It's fine," he fixes my bra. "You might want to grab a t-shirt from my room," he chuckles, pulling at the oh-so-obvious-wet-spot. "Although, Tam might think it's funny...happens to her a lot now...you know, every time Ollie cries and she's not wearing nursing pads. We were at lunch last week and it happened..."
"Shut up, Leed. I'm sexually frustrated and I don't wanna to hear about your adventures in nursing with your Baby Mama right now," I'm already up and moving out the door, but I bump into the wall instead. You know, because I'm still wearing the blanket over my head.
Leed takes me by the forearms and steers me across the house to his room. He rips the blanket off, laughs at my staticy hair and whispers. "Her text says she wants to see Ollie's nursery. Really she's just checking up to make sure I know what I'm doing and bought all the right shit she likes. If you are too chicken to face her in my t-shirt, take a car and go home and pack. Not the Ferrari, I don't want to leave it in unsecured in the lot at your place, but the Mercedes or the Escalade is fine. We'll pick you up on the way."
I hug him. "Thank you. I just don't want to..."
"Make Tam upset. I know. I'm not with you in sentiment, but I've still got your back. Whatever makes you comfortable."
I reach up to kiss him. He pats the back of my thighs and I spring naturally, wrapping my legs around his waist in a farewell kiss, wishing we had more time.
I'd be more than happy to lose that bet.
Awww, I just love these two. I love how they can be processing bad things and yet still find some playful comfort in each other. It shows how much resilience these two have as individuals. When they finally come together in every way, they'll be unstoppable! Don't you think? Or am I being too optimistic? Are they just denying the truly serious baggage they both have--Ash's past and Leed's family dynamic with Tam?
Oh, how did you like the song? Too trite, or perfect pitch?