Yes, Sirs (Book 1 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 142 - Callan

It only took a couple of seconds before the door was wrenched open with so much force it struck the wall. Instead of seeing our sweet Emma, I came face to face with her angry-looking friend.

"You sonofabitch!" he cursed a split second before his fist connected with my nose, and holy hell, that hurt. When he went to hit me again, I blocked him, like I would've done the first time if he hadn't taken me by surprise.

"What the hell, man?" I asked, pushing him from me so I could wipe away the nosebleed, but it was of no use; more blood came. Touching my nose, I winched. It throbbed like a motherfucker, but at least it wasn't broken.

"Don't fucking 'man' me. Stay away from Emma." Kevin didn't try to hit me again, but I could tell he wanted to.

"What are you talking about?" Blood was dripping down onto the floor, but I didn't give two shits about that. No, I needed to find out what the hell he was talking about.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked slightly smug for making me bleed. "I'm talking about the fact that you guys hired a fucking PI to find my girl and made up a sponsorship to get her to your club."

I paled at his answer.

"What the hell is wrong with you rich people? When has it ever been okay to use a private investigator to find a girl? Never mind the fact that you lied to her from the start when she was supposed to be able to trust you. You were her dominants. For fuck's sake, she should've been able to trust you guys. Isn't that what your lifestyle is all about?" For each word he spoke, he grew more pissed—he was livid by the time he was done.

He was clearly waiting for a reply, but I couldn't talk; my mind focused on his use of tenses. We were her dominants. Weren't we still?

"Well?" he prompted me, but I didn't know what to say. He was completely right. We hadn't been completely honest with her when we should've been. And somehow, she'd found out about it.

What had we done?

We couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose her.

My breathing grew strained, my airways constricting until it only allowed me a thin stream of oxygen. I could feel my heart beat so fucking hard and fast my chest hurt.

Kevin's eyes grew almost alarmed as my panic attack returned for the second time in a day. The thought of losing the woman I loved...I couldn't bear it.

Fucking hell, I loved her.

We made a mistake, I wanted to say.

We love her, I tried to tell him.

We never meant to hurt her. My tongue felt like lead, and the words were stuck in my throat alongside the air I was choking on.

Stumbling towards the hallway wall, I leaned against it with my head bent down, trying desperately to fill my lungs with the oxygen it craved.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Kevin asked, suddenly worried about my health. It was almost ironic, given the fact that I was still bleeding from my nose because of him.

"No," I answered hoarsely.

"Well, you can't just stand there. Get your ass inside." I could feel him guiding me into Emma's apartment. If I'd hoped she was in here, I was sorely mistaken.

He led me to the chair by her desk. I sat down seconds before my legs would've given out. I held my head down and tried to breathe.

A long time ago, I'd learned how to handle a panic attack, but I'd long since forgotten, too determined to let it stay in the past—a lot of good that did me now.

I could feel Kevin return to my side, though I can't even remember if he'd even left. "You know...it might be easier if you tried a breathing technic."

Why he was trying to help me, I had no idea. Still, when he mentioned using a breathing technic, it triggered a memory of me using it to help deal with one of these attacks.

In. One, two.

Out. One, two.

In. One, two, three, four.

Out. One, two, three, four.

I took deep breaths, filling my lungs on each count and holding it for a second before breathing out slowly. Each time, I breathed in longer and out slower. It felt like I was doing it for ages, but it was working, so I kept it up until my heartbeat slowed, the tightness in my chest vanished, and I could breathe easily again.

"There's a water bottle for you on her desk," Kevin finally said after minutes in silence.

Grateful, I chugged half of the water bottle. "Thanks."

"Want to tell me what that was about?" He was sitting over by her bed. A bag was placed beside him, half-full.

"Panic attack," I said, staring at the bag. Was he packing the bag for her? Where was she?

"Yeah, I knew that. What I meant was, why did you have one now?"

"Fear of abandonment." It wasn't something I talked about, but for some reason, I didn't mind Kevin knowing about it. Hell, he'd already seen me at my worst.

He nodded slowly. "I started having them when I was eighteen," he said suddenly. "My parents kicked me out for being gay. I know all about how fear of others leaving you messes you up and how you might...act differently because of it." Where was he going with this? "Don't get me wrong, I do not condone you for hurting my girl, and I won't help her forgive you, but...I'm just saying in a messed-up way, I get it. It's not healthy, not for you or anyone around you, but I get it. Do you care about her? Because right now, she's sitting in my apartment, alone and fucking heartsick because of you guys."

I closed my eyes as I thought about Emma hurt and alone. Now it was my turn to nod. "I love her," I admitted.

"Good. Then you and your friends better fight for her. If you won't, then you damn well don't deserve her. Now get the hell out of here. I have shit to pack." With that, I left, feeling both better and worse after the conversation with Kevin.

You and your friend better fight for her... Determination filled me as I walked back out, that was exactly what we were going to do.