Chapter One
And of course just to make everything a little bit worse, “Jingle Bells” was playing.
What am I doing here? Jacob looked around the club he hadn’t been in for over two years. Adrian had remodeled, he’d noticed, and the bar area had a nice new lick of paint. The canned Christmas music blared from the speakers, and there were holiday decorations everywhere. The dungeon area—he was sure—was first class as always, but it was the other door he was deliberately not looking at. The one decorated with a garland around the sign and a teddy bear currently sporting a red hat.
The dedicated Daddy/Mommy and little area was new—new to him anyway—and he was incredibly relieved he wasn’t allowed in. In fact, it was the only thing that had gotten him here. If he had seen so much as a baby wipe, he would have run. Not that Ben had been into that, but at the end Jacob had just about done everything for him anyway because he hadn’t been able to do it for himself.
Patrick had explained gently that only established couples, or more, with littles could go in there, and Jacob had heaved a huge sigh of relief. He couldn’t face that. Not ever. Never again.
“Jacob?”
Jacob glanced over at Patrick walking toward him. He swallowed nervously at the young man by his side. He’d thought—hoped—that Patrick would have left his boy in the little area, but no, he was here.
“Jacob, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Jacob and one of my oldest friends.”
Charlie shook hands shyly and followed them to a corner booth. One of the subs on the server roster appeared, and they all ordered a drink, and Jacob—because he could—ordered a beer. The same rules applied whether you were whipping someone or building a train track—no alcohol if you were playing. He tried not to stare when Charlie got his juice in a sippy cup.
“It’s good to see you.” Patrick put down his Coke.
“I got a job offer in England,” Jacob blurted out, even surprising himself. “The house has been nearly empty for over two years since I moved to Atlanta, so I thought I’d better visit and get everything ready to place with a Realtor.” Because he hadn’t even been able to bear renting it out.
Patrick was quiet for a few seconds. “Do I congratulate you?”
Jacob didn’t reply. The job was the chance of a fresh start. Something he hadn’t managed to do no matter where he’d run. “I can’t come back here,” he admitted.
He couldn’t help the glance at Charlie, who was quietly coloring, and managed to drag his eyes away when he realized Patrick hadn’t said anything else.
“I understand,” Patrick said reluctantly. “I just wish—”
“So do I.” He wished with everything in him that the last three years had been some nightmare he could wake up from and his darling Ben would be sitting cross-legged on the cushion next to Charlie. But he wouldn’t be. Not ever again.
Jacob swallowed down his tight throat. He hated this time of year, and he shouldn’t have come. He’d spent Thanksgiving working when he hadn’t had to. He wanted to see Patrick, but they could have met somewhere else. He also knew this had been deliberate on Patrick’s part, but he wouldn’t ever get in the scene again. He couldn’t do that and keep his sanity.
“How long are you here for?” Patrick asked.
“I have a month to consider their proposal, so I was going to use the time to get the house ready to sell. They want me to start the first of April.” He shrugged. “I already completed my last contract.”
Patrick nodded. “That’s good. Gives you time to consider all your options.”
Jacob sighed. “I’m going to accept their offer, Patrick. The Newbury regeneration project is too good an opportunity to miss.” His fingers practically itched to get his hands on the plans, and it had been the first thing that had caught his interest since Ben had died, and he had the chance to control the whole project from the early planning stage.
Patrick nodded, but Jacob’s attention was caught by a movement to the side as a Dom jumped out of his seat.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” A server—he assumed—stood in frozen horror as the glass he had just been putting down on the table somehow had managed to end up all over the Dom’s knees. Patrick frowned and stood just as Adrian came out from the storeroom behind the bar and heard the commotion.
“Poor boy,” Patrick muttered as if to himself. The scarlet-faced server helped Adrian clear up and then hurried from the room. The Dom didn’t seem to be making a fuss though.
“Do you know him, the server?” Jacob qualified.
“I think it’s his first day from what Adrian said.” Jacob winced sympathetically and fought the urge to go and check he was okay. Not my problem.
“I don’t know the Dom, but I’m glad he was reasonable about it,” Patrick said.
“He’s new?” Jacob asked just for something to say. Anything so Patrick wouldn’t grill him.
“I don’t know to be honest.” Patrick smiled ruefully. “I don’t really spend much time out here anymore.”
Jacob fisted his hands involuntarily as a spike of raw jealousy ran over him. He had to get out of here, and mumbling something about finding a bathroom, he stood and practically jogged from the room, heading for the smaller men’s bathroom out in the entrance hall. It was usually empty, and he needed a minute. A few seconds after he had pushed open the door, he realized it wasn’t empty. One of the doors to the stalls was shut, and Jacob heard what sounded suspiciously like a sob before the sound of the door as he closed it behind him quietened everything.
Damn, now what did he do? The toilet flushing saved him from a decision, and he just had time to walk to one of the sinks to make a show of washing his hands before the stall door opened and the server from a moment ago stepped out.
Jacob eyed him warily. He wasn’t sure what—if any—interaction would be welcome, and the man slid to the sink, keeping his head lowered. Maybe he was a sub and Jacob’s assumption he was a server was wrong. It didn’t discount the fact that technically Jacob was a Dom, and this man, either an employee or a sub, meant that he had some responsibility to make sure he was okay even though he might wish he had never walked into this bathroom.
“I’m sure you won’t be in trouble,” Jacob offered. “Adrian is very reasonable, and accidents happen.”
The man pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, and Jacob did the same, then offered his hand. “Jacob Morrison.”
The man looked at Jacob’s hand like it was going to bite, but he took it cautiously and looked up at the same time. Jacob stared in surprise. He hadn’t really seen him close in the club, but both his eyes were a startling mix of blue and green, and he was a little older than he had originally thought, maybe nearer his own age.
“Lucas Drydon, Sir.”
Sir? Was the man just being respectful, or was he really a sub? Jacob let go of his cold hand, noticing a shiver run through him. Lucas was dressed in black pants and a white shirt, and the air-conditioning in the bathroom was brutal. Subs generally wore considerably less, but not the servers.
He looked at the floor again, and Jacob—making a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret—pulled off his gray jacket he hadn’t had the time to remove and quickly draped it around Lucas’s shoulders. “Sir?” Lucas squeaked out, but Jacob led him to the bench in the middle of the room and sat down.