Broken Submission

Two Steps Back

"So we'll see you guys at the party?" Matthew asked as the group gathered their coats and belongings.

Amelia glanced at Derek who had been quiet and withdrawn since the incident with Jerrol.

When he didn't respond, she put a hand on his arm and gave Matt a small smile. "I think so. It was really nice to officially meet you guys."

He grinned. "Likewise. I know Brianna is thrilled to have another girlfriend. In fact," he glanced toward the bathrooms where his sub had disappeared, "let me give you her number. You guys should make a lunch date or something."

"Wow," she blinked, "yeah, sure. Thanks." She took the proffered card.

Glancing at Derek, her brow furrowed with concern. She'd never seen him so distracted. With him so out of it, she steeled herself and stepped up, giving all the proper farewells before pulling him out to the car. Her hands shook, but she thought that she'd pulled it off.

Derek climbed in the driver's side and started the car.

"Sir?" she said hesitantly. "Derek? Are you okay?"

He glanced at her, expressionless. He pulled out. "I'm fine. Let's just get home."

She slumped into her seat, any thrill she's felt from successfully interacting with his friends having vanished completely. "Okay," she murmured.

When his silence extended even after they made their way through the front door, she excused herself to take a shower. Tears burned in her eyes, falling when she worked the plug out of her body. Her lack of arousal made it a tortuous exercise, and she slumped against the shower wall when it finally exited her body. She sat under the spray for as long as she could without taking up all the hot water. Derek would probably want to get in after her.

Drying herself off, Amelia stared at her foggy reflection. Her legs were red and swollen from heat, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. Her hair hung in limp chunks around her face. It felt like someone had pulled a plug in her chest, all of her emotion draining through the hole. Exhaustion took its place. She watched herself in the mirror with disinterest. Eventually, she turned and left, making her way to the bedroom where she stopped only long enough to tug on one of Derek's t-shirts before climbing into bed.

Derek leaned against the wall, listening to the shower. He'd felt off ever since the confrontation with her ex. Not that Jerrol was really her ex, but his mind sneered the term anyway. It had been all he could do to keep a lid on his frustration. He'd seen the confused and distressed glances she threw his way, but he didn't feel like he could address them without losing his head.

The shower turned off. It was a few minutes before she emerged, and she didn't even see him sitting on the floor before she went into the bedroom and closed the door. He sighed. Tonight had been a success. She'd met his friends. Relief had coursed through him when she connected with Brianna. Matthew and Mark seemed to like her. They'd made plans to meet up later. So why did it feel like a disaster?

Her damn ex. He glared at the wall. That was the problem. If he'd just kept to himself then none of this would have happened. And what he'd said... Derek couldn't avoid it anymore. When Jerrol had tossed out that comment about having sex with her, Derek had frozen. He'd thought about having sex with her—of course he had. But she'd never indicated that she was ready to take their relationship to that place. But she goes there with that asshole?

He tried to shake it off. It was her decision who she had sex with. Besides, they hadn't really talked about it. Maybe she was ready and was just waiting for him to make the first move. The logic didn't extinguish the pressure building in him. He wanted to yell, punch, do something. Instead, he pushed himself upright and went into the bathroom.

When he turned the light on, he noticed the tail hanging to dry on the rack by the sink. His heart sank. That had been his job. He should have been there to help her with the pain, to console and reward her when she pushed through it. Pushing aside his disappointment and the irrational irritation that accompanied it, he stepped into the shower and washed quickly.

By the time he walked into the bedroom, the light was off, and she was just a vague lump under the covers. He climbed in, not bothering with clothes. He stared at the ceiling and tried to forget.

The next morning, Amelia woke early. She glanced at the man beside her, a nervous feeling in her stomach. Sleeping when they were not in a good place had only exacerbated her uneasiness. She slipped out from beneath the covers, cringing when the floorboards creaked. A pair of leggings clutched in one hand, she slipped out the door.

She pulled them on. Glancing at the clock, she figured that she had at least a half hour before he woke. Amelia went to the kitchen and started making breakfast as quietly as possible. Every creak, every clink of utensils made her flinch. Everything was ready and in covered dishes to hold the heat by the time he emerged, except the eggs which she'd make fresh.

He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his sleep-spiked hair, reminding her again of a sleepy bear.

"Good morning," she murmured, cracking an egg into the pan.

He muttered something. Noticing the glass of orange juice sitting on the counter and the coffee mug next to it, Derek poured the fresh brew. A few sips in and he was feeling a bit more alert. She set a full plate in front of him—sunny side up eggs, link sausage, a small pile of sautéed sweet peppers, and toast with butter.

He glanced up. "This looks great."

A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She still hadn't met his eyes. He started eating, and she set about cleaning up.

He frowned. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Her body tensed when he spoke. She glanced his way. "I ate some while I was cooking."

His frown deepened, but he didn't say anything further. When he finished, he took his plate to the sink and started to help with what was left.

"You don't need to do that," she said, voice muted. "I'm fine; you can get a head start on your day."

He'd opened his mouth to argue when his phone rang. Glancing around for it, he saw the glowing screen on the counter.

He answered. "What's up?"

"Hey, we've got a bit of a press situation here."

Derek frowned. "Just send them away."

"Sure, sure," Sam said, "but they're threatening to camp out and interrogate our members tonight if you don't talk to them."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks." She hung up.

Derek turned. "They need me. Thanks again for breakfast."

She nodded. "Yes sir, of course."

Something seemed off, but he didn't pause to decipher it. He changed and was out the door.