50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

50SOD II: Chapter Sixteen

    Morning workouts were a way for Aubrey to clear his head. He was very much a thinker, always had been. There would be nights when it would take forever for him to fall asleep, because his mind was going a mile a minute. Thinking about anything and everything. He often went to bed with his mind cluttered - if not with business, then these days, about Destiny.

    His workouts were a time for him to clear his mind of the clutter. His thoughts tended to organize themselves when it was just him, the quiet, and the weight machines. Shirtless, barefoot, wearing nothing but pajama pants, he pulled a long, weighted handlebar down to his chest. He leaned back at an angle, watching his biceps ripple and flex while he pulled and slowly released.

    He heard the distant sound of a toilet flushing and turned his head towards the entrance to his home gym. Breathing heavily, he rose up from the workout bench and grabbed the nearest towel. He mopped the sweat from his face, bent at the waist and picked up his water bottle. He guzzled from it, still looking towards the door.

    Destiny had been on his mind all night. He'd been plagued by nightmares of losing her, and nightmares of never having met her. The first thing he'd done when he'd woken up was check the guest bedroom to make sure she was there. She was. Sleeping soundly, looking like the angel she was.

    While working out, he'd come to the conclusion that if he was going to keep her, he had to loosen the grip he had on her. He was holding her too close, clinging to her a little too tightly. He had his reasons for that, sure - some of those reasons, she would be very interested in hearing about, thanks to the letters she'd found in his closet. Until he worked up the nerve to talk to her about that, though, he was going to have to relax.

    He draped the towel around his neck, took a deep breath, and walked out of the gym. He didn't have to go far to find her.

    She was in the kitchen, standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach a bowl on one of the higher shelves. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a topknot.

    He sauntered into the kitchen and went to stand behind her. Effortlessly, he reached up and grabbed the bowl she had her sights set on. He set it on the counter in front of her.

    "Thank you," she said softly, without turning to look at him.

    He remained behind her, trying to ignore how much skin her tank top and shorts revealed. Trying and failing. He touched her upper arm gently and caressed it. He tried to stop himself, but that also proved to be futile.

    She turned her head.

    "You're wearing your collar," he remarked.

    "I'm only serving you Friday through Sunday, but didn't know whether or not I was still supposed to wear the collar while I was staying here," she said, raising a hand and touching the D-shaped ring on the front of the collar. "I figured it's better to be safe than sorry."

    "I...like that you're wearing it," he said.

    She moved away from him and opened the refrigerator door. "I don't want to get caught up in traffic and I overslept, so..."

    "You're not going into work today," he told her, leaning a hip against the island counter.

    Those words caused her to turn and look at him. "What do you mean?"

    "I called Brian and told him you will be taking the rest of the week off," he explained. "You're still experiencing soreness. I can tell by the way you walk. And you have an out-of-country guest to entertain."

    "So you're giving me a week off?" she asked him suspiciously. "Just like that?"

    "Yes."

    She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just last night, you didn't want Carlos around."

    "He showed up without any warning. And you and I...you and I were going through things. It was just a bad time." He lowered his eyes. "I know I handled it poorly. I'm sorry."

    At a loss for words, she closed the refrigerator door and approached him.

    And in his mind, he'd told himself that he would release the grip he had on her. Give her some space. Give her some time to enjoy her friend Carlos's visit. Stop smothering her so much. In that moment, though, when she willingly stood this close to him, so close that he could smell her, he couldn't resist wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face into her shoulder.

    She went stiff in his arms, but eventually returned the embrace, sliding her arms around his waist.

    "I want us to be okay," he murmured into her shoulder.

    "Then you have to talk to me," she told him, running a hand over his short, faded hair.

    "I can't. Not yet."

    She pulled away from him. "Then we're not okay."

    His eyebrows drew upward.

    They stared at each other in silence, their eyes speaking more than words ever could. Her eyes pleading with him to open up to her, and his eyes pleading her for more time. In the end, she sighed and walked around him so she could continue making breakfast. "Thank you for letting me have the rest of the week off," she said courteously.

    Courteously. The same tone she'd use with a stranger or someone she barely knows. He watched her, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say. Maybe she feels like she barely knows me at this point, since I'm unable to talk about my ex-fiance. That thought summoned up images. Images of a woman he'd tried to forget for the past several years. He closed his eyes and turned to face the island counter. He planted his hands on the countertop. Memories were surging at him all at once. He fought to keep them at bay, but once he successfully buried one, another one rose to the surface.

    "Aubrey, are you okay?" he heard.

    That was beforehe collapsed. Then, he saw nothing but black.