Page 188 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1
Heat rises up my spine, a flash of anger choking my throat. Before I can get a word out, Hank’s heavy footsteps echo down the hall, returning from his morning run.
The timing couldn’t be more perfect—or more dangerous.
He appears in the doorway, sweat glistening on bronzed skin, his chest still rising and falling with exertion. His eyes, sharp and assessing, take in the scene in an instant.
Beside me, Gabe straightens slightly. A silent communication passes between them—Hank’s raised eyebrow, Gabe’s subtle head shake.
A warning.
They’re concerned. But they’re letting me handle this.
This is my battle.
I take a breath, steadying myself. “Dad, this isn’t some phase or mistake I’m making because I’mtraumatized,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I know it’s not conventional?—”
“Conventional?” he interrupts with a humorless laugh. “Ally, you were kidnapped. Twice. By the same organization. These men—” He stops himself, but the implication hangs between us.
These men are taking advantage.
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. Hank moves silently into the room, his presence solid and reassuring as he perches on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t touch me, respecting my space during this conversation, but his proximity sends a wave of calm through my body.
“Dad, I know you’re worried, but this isn’t a mistake.” My voice chokes with emotion as Gabe’s hand finds mine, fingersintertwining in silent support. “I’m happy. Really happy. And isn’t that what matters most?” My voice drops as I meet Hank’s gaze across the room. “I’m not hiding. I’m healing.”
I don’t say what I want to say, something that will shut my father up for good. I don’t sayI’m having an obscene amount of sex. Somedays—most days—I hit double digits in orgasms.
I thought two men would mean double the sex and double the orgasms. Hank and Gabe have shown me that math was wrong.
Gabe leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder. His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, a gentle reminder that I’m not alone in this. Hank’s jaw tightens slightly, the only indication of his tension as he listens to my father’s criticism.
“Happy?” Dad asks, his voice dripping with skepticism. “How can you be happy when you’re living like this? It’s not…normal.” My father’s tone shifts, becoming the voice he uses in boardrooms when opponents underestimate him. “You’re on track for a brilliant career in physics. Now you’re what? Their live-in girlfriend?”
Hank’s eyes darken dangerously, but he remains silent. Gabe’s grip on my hand tightens slightly, his thumb pausing its rhythm momentarily before resuming, a physical manifestation of his controlled anger.
I ignore my father’s comment, pushing instead to use reason to get to him.
“It makes sense. When Hank and Gabe go to work, they drop me off. I’m surrounded by the country’s most elite security force, and then they bring me home at the end of the day. I couldn’t be safer than when I’m with them.”
The wordhomelands between us like a grenade with the pin pulled. My father’s sharp intake of breath tells me he felt the impact just as keenly.
“Is that what you’re calling it? That’s not your home. Whatever you think you have, it’s not going to last. Things that complicated rarely do.”
“You’re wrong.” My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into palms.
“Ally …”
“Look, we’ve always agreed to be upfront about things. That was your one rule.”
Hank’s arm slides around my waist, not tentative but claiming, marking his territory in the face of my father’s disapproval.
“Remember when I was sixteen, and you caught me sneaking out to that concert? You said you’d rather know where I was than have me lie about it.”
“This is different.”
“No, it’s not.” I straighten my spine, drawing strength from the men flanking me like sentinels. “I need you to hear this, Dad. What I have with Hank and Gabe isn’t temporary or experimental or some post-trauma reaction you can diagnose away. They aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I. This relationship is real. We’rereal.”
My voice cracks on the last word, raw with an emotion I hadn’t meant to reveal. “You can either accept that they’re part of my life or judge something you don’t understand. I won’t apologize for finding something that works, even if it’s not what you pictured for me.”
“You never did lie. Not even when the truth made us both uncomfortable.” There’s a hint of wry humor in his voice through the phone, a tone I recognize as the reluctant softening he rarely shows. “I suppose some things never change.” A heavy sigh crackles over the line.
