Page 37 of For Life
Maxx trussed up his former partner and whispered something to him while Jefferson did the same to Ivanna. What seemed to be Felix Kiselov’s men were restraining the three goons and making their way out of the warehouse as the sound of sirens rang out. If Maxx or my friends got in trouble for helping me… I didn’t know what I’d do.
My attention focused on Maxx as he unlocked my cell and embraced me. The groan that escaped me was part pain and part joy at his presence. I didn’t ask him to stop though, hugging him back just as hard. His words were barely audible over the rising noise from police arriving and my would-be killers yelling from the floor. But a few things filtered through.
“I’ve got you, little tiger. No one can hurt you now. I’m so sorry they got you. I should have protected you better…”
Feeling swoon-worthy over how badass Maxx was rescuing me, and wanting him to take me home for cuddles, it was jarring when he stepped back from me. Cops emerged on the landing and Maxx moved to help them understand the situation. I didn’t know what I was expecting… Maxx would take me home and Daddy me? Confess his love for me? Maybe cuddles and more sex after I was healed.
Or before, pain was hot.
“Maxx,” I couldn’t help calling out, feeling needy and bereft on my own.
Maxx swooped in and made me feel loved. Then the cops showed up and I felt forgotten. Maxx only nodded that he’d heard me and turned away. A female police officer approached me with Jefferson and I tuned in when a blanket was wrapped around my shoulders. They were saying something to me and Jefferson was arguing, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was in shock
Embarrassment at calling out to Maxx was the only emotion I could touch. He waved me off while being yelled at by some other officer with a bunch of pins on his uniform. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
Jefferson’s words of “shock,” “kidnapped… not a flight risk,”and “Ant,home” made their way into my head and I leaned into him. If Ash’s Daddy would take me home, whether to my own bed or to the one he shared with Ash, I was going with him. Jefferson answered questions for a while in which I couldn’t look at Maxx or Matlock and Ivanna being carted away, and then I felt him nudging me.
“Come on, Ant, let’s get you some rest.”
Jefferson helped me up, and I hadn’t even realized we were sitting on the couch or that I had water in my hand, half drunk and missing the lid. I swallowed the last of it and followed Jefferson’s lead to the stairs, thankful I never lost my shoes.
Going home with Jefferson meant going to Shepherd's. We took a car with Felix and Maksim, that much I knew, but I didn’t process any conversation if they were talking. Back in my bed, I ate some chocolate that July offered me and thought about how much crap I’d been dealt.
In the span of my three years, I’d been kicked out of my home, lived on the streets and did things I wasn’t proud of to survive. Then I became a chef as I found my community. Hell, in the span of one week I’d gone from looking forward to the future, to in shock over being kidnapped and tortured. Life was messy and chaotic, but I’d had my share of strunz’ to last a lifetime, as my grandfather used to say.
My time at the cabin and in captivity had me thinking of my family more and more. I hadn’t reached out to any of them, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. But I wanted to connect to my roots and the better parts of my childhood more than ever. And, I was even more determined to have my own business. My family may not hear about it from me, but I would show anyone who doubted that you could be queer and successful after dropping out of high school with no family support. That it was possible.
Also, I wanted Maxx.
After days spent together, being each other’s first in multiple ways, and making a strong connection… Maxx was all I wanted.
Sleeping off and on, waking when Shepherd or July came to check on me and make sure I ate, it was a shock when I grabbed my phone and saw it was almost sunrise. I had dozens of messages from friends on a half-dozen platforms, but nothing from Maxx.
Maybe Daddying me had only been while we were hiding away. I was sure he’d at least text and say when he could visit me. Now I was free, he was back to being a cop who only does his duty. I was an obligation because of the case, and now it was solved. Maxx made me believe we had a real connection, and I was the one sad and alone over it.
“Hey Roman,” I had ventured out to go pee and clean up so I didn’t feel gross, “Has Maxx stopped by or called any of you?”
He paused on his way into the main bedroom that three of them shared. “Um, no, sorry.”
Roman looked ready to come comfort me, or get Shepherd to do it, but I shrugged and went back to my room.
After more than twelve hours without him calling or visiting, I had my answer. It wasn’t logical to be so dependent on someone for attention. Someone with no ties or commitment to me. I had only known Maxx a couple of weeks. The only promise he made to me was that he wouldn’t let me be without a home again. We weren’t partners or even really friends. The truth came down to the fact that I was in desperate need of a hug from the one person who kept me sane through it all.
Feeling rejected and needy, I fell into my bed. The room didn’t feel like home yet, since I’d only slept there a couple nights total. My mind went in circles until I finally started thinking of Maxx’s non-communication logically.
It wasn’t even a real relationship.
We were just two kinky guys, stuck together for days, who used each other to pass the time.
It wasn’t special or leading to anything else.
Grabbing my favorite stuffed animal of a tiger from a children’s show, I felt a sob rising in my throat and I crawled back under my covers to cry. I hadn’t cried much in captivity—which I was told was only for one night and day, though it felt like longer. Staying stoic for my kidnappers, not wanting to give them the satisfaction, had given me something to focus on. Then exhaustion and the crash from endorphins kicked in.
It felt a lot like a sub-drop.
The feeling of numbness and anxiety rolled into one. When the person who caused your rush of brain chemicals was there afterwards, or another trusted person, sub-drop was easy to process. You got new, happy oxytocin chemicals from the comfort and contact. I had my friends taking care of me, and Shepherd even gave me a bit of that Daddy energy I seemed to be craving, but no one held me close and refused to let go.
The shooting, fleeing, hiding, sex, being kidnapped, tortured, and then rescued had been a buttload of bad brain chemicals. I hadn’t even passed high school chemistry, so it was all too overwhelming to contemplate.