Simon took a step back, my arm stretching, my hand refusing to let go. Simon never told me no. It didn’t matter what I wanted, or when I wanted it. Simon delivered.
No was not a word in our vocabulary.
“I said get on your fucking knees, Simon.”
Simon reached up and pulled my hand from his throat, shaking his head as he let my arm fall. “And I said no. I want more, Tony. I want a family. I want children.”
“You think fucking Freddie will give you a family? You think he makes enough as a prison guard to support you?”
“I make enough to support me, Tony. I’ve been doing it for years before you came along. You don’t support me now. You won’t even talk to me in public, let alone take me on a date. Hold my hand. Kiss me. I don’t want to be yourmo leannán rúnda, Tony. I deserve more than to be your dirty little secret.”
Simon pushed past me and walked back out into the salon. I stood there for a minute, shocked by what he said. But the truth was, I knew this day would come. I knew one day he would have enough of my bullshit and walk away.
“Simon,” I called, walking out to the salon, only to be met with the silence of an empty room. The front door was open, and Simon was gone.
“Fuck!”
I stood there staring at the open door, refusing to chase after him. If this was how he wanted it, fine. I still had a job to do; one I was damn good at. I still had orders from Judge Markham. Orders I wouldn’t walk away from.
I’d try Simon’s case.
I’d get him off.
I scoffed at the pun, then grabbed the supplies he’d placed in a bag for the clubhouse tomorrow and walked out the door, locking it behind me. I looked up and down the street, but Simon was gone.
I knew he wouldn’t run. He’d come back to the house whenhe got over his tantrum. I tossed the bag into the passenger seat and backed out of the lot next to Simon’s shop. I drove back to his house and let myself in.
And I waited.
And waited.
Three hours later, Simon finally walked in the door.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“I went to the diner,” he said, avoiding my eyes. I looked him over; his shirt was untucked and his jeans were dirty. My feet crossed the room before I realized I had moved. I grabbed his chin without thinking, and he yanked his head away from me.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
There was a bruise forming on the left side of his chin. His left eye was swollen, and the skin across his cheekbone was broken and bleeding.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
He tried to pull away again, but I collared his neck. Only, I didn’t squeeze; this was a different kind of dominance. It wasn’t about sex; it was about caring. It was about love, because despite never telling him, despite not being willing to out myself so we could live our lives together in the open, I loved this man.
And someone had laid their fucking hands on him.
“Who am I killing?”
“Tony, stop.”
Once again, Simon pried my hand from his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, but I saw the war he was fighting not to let them fall.
“Simon.” I cupped his cheek. “Who hurt you?”
He looked up at me, losing the battle, and my heart ached as a tear slipped from its prison. “You did, Tony. You hurt me.”
Simon walked away from me then. He left me standing in his kitchen after piercing me through the heart. I turned and watched as he walked down the hall without looking back. This time, it wasn’t his ass I was focused on. It was his back as he walked away. He closed his bedroom door without a glanceover his shoulder at me to see the damage he had caused.