Page 35 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Thirty-One

Nate emerged from the bathroom to find Zeeb gone. His chest tightened.

Of course he’s gone. Why would he stay?

Another night free from bad dreams.

Another morning waking to find he’d rolled over in the night and snuggled up to Zeeb’s warm, firm body.

He never says a word about that. In fact, the previous day he’d leaped out of the bed and scooted off to the bathroom before Nate could say more than “Morning.”

He knew why it hurt this particular morning. The memory of that massage lingered. The feel of Zeeb’s hands on him, moving in slow strokes.

He could almost say they’d been sensual.

Except he knew better.

It isn’t his job to ward off your nightmares. That’s going above and beyond. And while he might not say that to your face, it could be what he’s thinking.

Another thought came hot on its heels.

That’s the old Nate talking. You trust Zeeb. More than that, he wears his emotions on his sleeve. You think if that’s what was going on in his head, he’d be able to hide it?

Then it hit him.

The old Nate wouldn’t have even said yes to a shoulder massage. He wouldn’t have let someone in that close.

Through his walls.

Close enough to touch.

To make Nate feel something… new.

His phone buzzed, and Nate peered at it.

Zeeb: I’m bringing breakfast. Hope you’re hungry. Just waiting on the home fries.

His face grew hot. See? You were reading too much into it.

He should have trusted Zeeb.

His phone buzzed once more, but this time it was Dad.

You got a minute?

Nate hit speed dial. “For you? Always.”

“I figured you’d be awake. Everyone usually gets up early on the ranch.”

“Is everything okay? I mean, you’ll see me in two days’ time.”

“Everything’s fine.” He paused. “This weekend would normally be a visit to Deliverance, but I’m calling to say I won’t be going.”

Nate frowned. “Why not? You love staying here.” And now he could understand why.

“Yes, I do, but I’d rather be here when you get home.

Otherwise I won’t have seen you for three weeks.

I don’t count the few hours I saw you last weekend.

And besides, there’s always next month. So I’ll cook something amazing, and you can tell me all about your stay.

” Another pause. “Still enjoying it? More importantly, do you feel it’s done you some good?

I know I should wait to hear all this on Saturday, but I woke up thinking about you. ”

Nate sat on the couch, still with the towel wrapped around him.

“Something’s puzzling me, if I’m honest.”

“Oh?”

He pondered how best to frame his thoughts. “I think it’s done me a lot of good, but what bugs me is… I don’t see why it should have.”

Dad fell silent.

“You still there?”

“I’m trying to get my head around that last statement. So let me see if I’ve got this right. You feel you’ve made progress, but what confuses you is what facilitated this progress? What’s wrong with acknowledging your success, accepting it?”

“Because I can’t,” Nate blurted. “Why now, Dad? I’ve been in therapy for how long?

So why does it feel as if I’m finally breaking through?

Learning to ride, spending time with the horses…

. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been amazing, but I can’t see it having such an effect.

” He took a breath. “I need to know this is real, that I’m finally making some headway.

Salvation is a wonderful place, but it isn’t a miracle cure.

There has to be some other reason.” His stomach clenched.

Dad’s silence told Nate he didn’t have an answer either.

“Might I make a suggestion?”

Nate’s breathing hitched. “If you’ve got one, I want to hear it.”

“You’ve met Sol, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d go talk to him. I don’t know enough to come up with answers for you, but Sol does. He’s easy to talk to. And it might help to get an outsider’s perspective on your situation.”

“He already guessed about the conversion therapy.”

Dad’s slow exhale filled his ear. “There. So that’s one hurdle you don’t have to get over. Tell him as much—or as little—as you feel up to sharing. Tell him about your therapy sessions with Dr. Lacey, too.”

Nate heard an engine switch off. “I think my breakfast has arrived.”

Dad chuckled. “Wow. Waiter service. I don’t get that kind of treatment.” He paused. “But seriously, go see Sol. He’s another good guy.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Nate smiled. “It’ll be good to see you on Saturday. And mac and cheese would be great if you feel like making it.”

Dad gave a hearty laugh. “That’s what I was going to cook anyway. Enjoy your breakfast.” He hung up.

The door opened and Zeeb stepped inside. His eyebrows shot up when he caught sight of Nate.

“You plannin’ on eating like that?”

Nate chuckled. “Give me a sec to put some clothes on.” He got up from the couch and hurried up the stairs.

“Don’t be too long or your home fries might up an’ vanish,” Zeeb called out.

He snorted. “Will they have any help?” He grabbed a clean tee from the chest of drawers. “What are we doing today?”

“Whatever you want. Paintin’, ridin’…. Did you have something in mind?”

Nate pulled on his jeans. “Yes, but it’s none of those.” He paused. “Where would I find Sol? That’s assuming he’s available.”

There was a pause before Zeeb replied. “This a social call or more of a professional one?”

Nate peered over the railing at him. “The latter. I think a talk with him might prove useful.” He smiled. “At least, I hope so. It’s my dad’s idea.”

Zeeb removed his phone from his pocket. “Then let’s find out.” He tapped the screen. “Hey, Sol. I know you’re eating, but this is important. Nate wants a chat. You available today?”

Nate waited, his heartbeat still rapid.

Zeeb smiled. “I’ll pass that on. Later, dude.

” He pocketed his phone. “Sol says he’ll be at the Leather Barn this morning, workin’ on his websites.

” He snickered. “He says it’s the only place he’s guaranteed to get some peace ‘n’ quiet.

” He put his hands on his hips. “Now that we’ve got that outta the way, will you get your butt down here an’ eat your breakfast? ”

Nate came down the stairs, chuckling. “I had no idea you were this bossy.”

Zeeb cackled. “Stick around an’ you’ll see what a real hard-ass I can be.”

Nate didn’t believe that description for a second. He had a feeling the softer side of Zeeb he’d witnessed was the real deal, Zeeb’s true nature.

He loaded his plate with the food. “So what will you be doing while I’m with Sol?”

“Oh my. I guess I’ll sit some place an’ twiddle my thumbs.” Zeeb rolled his eyes. “Don’t you go worryin’ ’bout me. I got plenty to keep me occupied.” He studied Nate. “How’re your aches this morning?”

Nate smiled. “Much better, thank you. I’m not sure whether that’s the result of a good night’s sleep or the massage. Either way, I owe you.”

And just like that, his mind lurched to a memory: the feel of Zeeb’s rough hands on his bare back, fingers digging into the muscle, sliding over his shoulder blades…

The heat that had spread through Nate like a slow fire.

Zeeb’s eyes glittered. “You sneak some of your home fries onto my plate, an’ we’ll call it even.”

Nate let out a mock gasp of horror. “It wasn’t worth that much.”

He sat on the porch, his plate nestled in his lap, the morning light sparkling on the water as it tumbled over rocks, and birds chirping all around.

It felt good to be alive.

“You seem happy this morning,” Zeeb remarked. “And you slept like a log.” Nate blinked, and he let out a wry chuckle. “I’m a light sleeper these days, and I didn’t wake up once last night.” He paused. “Is everything okay? You wantin’ to see Sol an’ all.”

“Everything’s fine,” Nate reassured him.

Everything was fine. And now he wanted to know why that was.

He had to know it would stay that way.

“Hello?” Nate pushed open the door to the Leather Barn. To his left was a staircase, and straight ahead was the main room, an airy space filled with?—

Oh my.

Nate stopped dead at the sight of a steel frame from which a leather sling hung on heavy chains. Not that it was the only object in the room to capture his attention.

There were a lot of things that clamored for that.

His gaze alighted on objects hanging from a rack on the wall: whips, floggers, paddles…

Nate knew their names—and their uses. He’d done a little research into Dad’s other life, the one spent in leather, when he first learned about it.

And while the sight of such…devices would normally have made him shudder, these did not.

Dad had taught him one word that was of paramount importance to everything that happened within the walls of a BDSM club—or the Leather Barn at Deliverance.

Consent.

The guys who come here know what they want. What they like.

“Hey.” Sol appeared in a doorway beyond the main area. “I’m in here. I’ve got coffee on if you want some.”

“That sounds great.” Nate walked briskly past the padded benches, noting the large cupboards on either side.

I wonder what’s in those?

He wasn’t about to open them and find out.

Sol smiled as Nate approached. “Come on in.”

Nate stared in surprise at the small cozy office. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture: a wide desk complete with open laptop and monitor, behind which sat a padded chair, a couch against one wall, and a low bookcase against another. A coffee pot sat on it, and the aroma filled the room.

Sol went over to the bookcase and grabbed two cups. He turned and gestured to the couch. “Have a seat.”

Nate peered at the worn red leather. “Do I lie down on it?”

Sol chuckled. “Only if you want to.” He glanced over his shoulder, enough for Nate to catch a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. They can afford the fancy couches.”

“But you are qualified?” Nate’s face grew warm. “I’m sorry. That was rude. You wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”