Page 4 of Caging Cessie (Submissives of Rawhide Ranch #20)

Four Months Before the Cage

Leon sat on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the shower wall, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Cessie sat beside him, breathing still choppy as if she’d been crying, though her eyes were dry.

Leon lifted the ice pack he was holding against her shoulder and neck away, unfolding the towel. It was no longer cold.

“I’ll get another one.”

He started to rise, but she shook her head. Then she bent toward, elbows on her knees, face buried in her hands.

Leon’s heart was still hammering, even though it had been nearly an hour since she’d stumbled into the condo, her voice shaking as she told him what had happened.

"You could have died, Cessie.”

“I could have killed someone.”

“Why were you driving? You always fly.”

Her shoulders tightened, and that was all he needed.

“Fuck, Cessie, did you drive because you couldn’t afford a plane ticket?”

She didn’t say anything.

“So that’s where we are. You won’t even tell me when you need help buying a cheap Southwest flight to Vegas? Instead, you drive there after four days being on call, and then drive back in the middle of the night, on no sleep.”

She clenched her hands together into one fist but didn’t answer.

“And then, surprise fucking surprise, you fall asleep on the 10 and nearly kill yourself.”

Saying the words made panic climb up the inside of his throat. He forced it down, focusing instead on the rage.

“I know,” she snapped, finally lifting her head.

Her eyes were rimmed red, not from tears but exhaustion, the kind that seeped into the bones.

“You think I don’t realize how bad it could have been?

I woke up when I hit the rumble strip. If I’d gone the other way, and someone had been in the left lane—" She broke off, pressing her lips together hard.

She’d jammed on the brakes, causing her seatbelt to lock up, hence the blossoming bruise on her shoulder and chest.

“You should have called me. Actually, first you should have told me what was going on so I could help you. But given that you don’t want my help?—”

“It’s not that?—”

“Clearly it is?—”

“I know how you feel about my family. I know. And you’re right. My therapist is right. I have no boundaries and no?—”

She was spiraling, breathing too hard. Leon pushed up onto the balls of his feet and turned so he was crouched in front of her. “You’re okay. You’re home now.”

He waited for her to move toward him. For any sign that she wanted him to hold her. How the fuck had they drifted so far from one another that he didn’t even know if she wanted him to hold her?

“My brother ruined everything.” Her voice cracked. “But they act like it’s my fault.”

“Fuck, Cessie. You’re the victim .”

A month ago, Cessie’s bank had sent out a fraud alert.

Someone had opened up four new credit cards in her name.

The thief had withdrawn cash at casino ATMs all over Vegas, as well as purchasing several ATVs, jet skis, and high-end skincare products and bags.

Once they saw that, they froze her credit but it was too late.

Someone had also opened up a line of credit at one of the shadier casinos and in addition to the credit card debts had racked up gambling debt.

He’d flown to Vegas with Cessie that weekend for moral support as she filed a police report. Afterward, they’d had lunch with her mother, and by the time they’d walked out of the restaurant he’d had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what had happened.

He hadn’t told Cessie his suspicions, but when Vegas PD called her a week later, she hadn’t seemed surprised when they informed her it was her twenty-two-year-old brother who’d stolen her identity.

“I tried to explain,” she whispered. “The gambling debt in my name… I might have lost my fellowship.”

Fuck he wanted to hug her. He also wanted to tell her that her family was abusing her, but that would only serve to make her feel worse.

“If I didn’t press charges, I probably would have lost the fellowship. Gambling debts are considered ethical and liability issues.”

“I know.” Given that her job allowed her access to all sorts of drugs that could easily be converted to cash, he understood the hospital’s concern.

“It’s my future." She scrubbed a hand through her long hair. Her fingers were still shaking. “My future, and my mom didn’t even care. She was so upset with me that Orson was going to end up in jail.”

“Orson is an adult who committed a crime. Despite the fact that he can’t even make his own dentist appointments—” Leon bit down to stop the words.

They’d had a fight about that issue months ago on the way to the airport.

She’d been a walking zombie due to exhaustion, but still insisted on flying to Vegas to take her adult sibling to the dentist.

He tried to gently point out that her brother was a grown-up, and even if he needed someone to take him to the dentist, her mother was more than capable of doing it.

But sometimes his gentle wasn’t gentle enough, and she’d stalked out of the car after telling him that she was sorry her decisions disappointed him.

Leon exhaled slowly, trying to cool the fire burning in his chest. It wasn’t just anger. It was fear. Bone-deep fear. Fear that he was losing her, and trying to hold her tight, to protect her not physically but emotionally, would be the final nail in the coffin.

“Orson is an adult. Not pressing charges might have cost you the fellowship you’ve worked so hard for.” His voice was softer now, but he didn’t let go of her gaze. “You’re trying to protect your job, but there’s no fellowship, no future at all, if you’re dead.”

She swallowed, and finally her eyes started to fill with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, baby. You don’t need to apologize to me.” He hesitated, then reached out, touching her cheek. “I'm glad you're okay. Promise me something.”

She looked at him warily.

“Next time you’re that tired, you pull over. You call me. I don’t care what time it is, I’ll come get you.”

Cessie nodded, then tipped her face against his hand. He spread his fingers, cradling the weight of her head. “I won’t do anything like that again.”

“You can’t go on like this.”

The instant he spoke he regretted the words because she straightened. “I know.”

“I know you know, because half our fucking conversations are about how you’re burning out.”

“It’ll get better, now that I’ve accepted a fellowship placement?—”

“Will it?” As far as he understood, a fellowship was only slightly better than residency work-wise, and she’d already signed on to be part of a study during the two-year fellowship.

“What are you saying, Leon?”

“I love you, Cessie.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if I can bear to watch you burn up like you’re flying too close to the sun. You don’t trust me anymore?—”

He held up his hand when she started to protest.

“You don’t trust me anymore,” he began again, “and I understand, because I’m not sure I trust you anymore either. I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. You don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s happening in your life.”

Cessie bent her head, looking down at her hands. “So, this is it.”

“No.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise.

“I’m not going to give you up without a fight.”

Relief flashed across her features.

“But something has to change. We have to reset. Learn to trust, and prioritize, one another again.”

“How?”

Leon stood and reached down, offering her a hand. “I heard about a place, from a friend at the club. We’d have to apply to visit, but I think it might be what we need.”

“What place?”

“It’s called Rawhide Ranch.”