Yearn A. Ellis (carter reed .TXT) 📖

well-paying jobs we enjoyed, a nice place, and looking good to outsiders.

Hell, what did I know? I had absolutely zero sense of what a good relationship was supposed to entail. My mom ran off when I was little and I was raised by a mean, detached drunk. I knew I wanted better for Gabby, but I went and found myself stuck in a loveless situation before I realized what was happening and settled rather than fighting for better.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when Blaine, my fiancé—who I’d stupidly agreed to marry once his residency was complete—blew my life to smithereens after we’d been together for seven years.

Sure, my life wasn’t the greatest, but I’d lived without love or comfortable contentment up until that point and figured I could continue. However, I was blindsided—I naively wasn’t expecting Blaine to self-destruct and take me with him.

Blaine had always been a social drinker and, over the years I knew him, the drinking got progressively worse. He blew up if I approached him about how much he was drinking and how heavily he relied on it to get through his days. Growing up with an alcoholic, I felt trapped and dismayed to find myself marrying one, but I wasn’t sure how to get out. Looking back, I’d known I was depressed and not dealing well with my situation. One of my best moves was to find a local doctor who was willing to prescribe me an antidepressant—although, I likely should have gone through a mental health professional, but that was a whole different can of worms.

Every time Blaine got blackout drunk, I promised myself I’d leave the moment I’d saved up enough money. I wasn’t making a lot as a paramedic, but Blaine’s money covered most of our finances and he considered my job so far below him that my money wasn’t something he wanted anything to do with.

As the fog of depression began to clear, I made the decision to leave because Blaine’s drinking had gotten to be too much. I quickly started pinching and saving every single penny. I had no clue where I’d go, but something had awakened inside of me and I knew I had to get away from him. It was like I dealt with the issues, handled things fine, convinced myself all was good or at least tolerable, and then BAM I hit a wall and realized I just couldn’t do it any longer.

Sadly, though, Blaine forced my departure much more quickly than I was prepared for. His drinking got him fired. The lack of a job started a gambling habit to pay rent and bills—of course, this was information I had no clue about. Luckily, my money was going into my personal account so he couldn’t touch it. He couldn’t ask me for money without setting off alarms as to why he needed my money, so he kept gambling. He’d get enough to cover rent and bills but then he’d lose money in another bet, so he’d borrow to cover himself and he got in deeper and deeper and deeper.

I was finally leaving because the drinking had gotten so bad that I’d woken up and realized I had to get away. The gambling wasn’t something I found out about until the very end.

The night I packed up everything and left a naked, sobbing, begging Blaine kneeling on the floor, screaming apologies interspersed with derisive curses aimed at me for being the reason he’d had to do what he did was burned into my memories.

I’d come home from a shift early that night. The station had been slow and the chief cut me and my partner loose two hours early. When I’d arrived home, I’d immediately noticed unfamiliar shoes and followed tell-tale noises down the hall to our bedroom.

Where I’d found Blaine bent over the bed while he fucked a tall, dark stranger within an inch of his life. Shocked into immobility, I’d stood there trying to process what I was seeing. Blaine had never topped me, he wouldn’t even discuss it. I was vers and definitely interested in bottoming, but Blaine wouldn’t even hear of it. So, to see him topping this guy hurt in a variety of ways.

Neither of them saw me and I found myself transfixed to see how the situation would play out. I knew I’d be leaving that night—enough money saved or not—but I couldn’t make myself move. Why was Blaine willing to top for this man but never for me?

When they both climaxed and collapsed to the bed, I made to step into the room, but the man spoke and halted my movements.

“Fuck, that dick of yours is definitely worth the money. If you ever want to talk about making this a more permanent situation, let me know.”

I remembered standing there, blinking, trying to make sense of what he’d said.

“If you want to pay for exclusive access to this dick, it’s going to cost you a pretty penny. I’d be losing a lot of money from some high-paying clients,” Blaine had said.

The moment the situation clicked in my head, I swallowed down the urge to vomit. I had nothing against sex workers. The issue turning my stomach was my fiancé taking money for sex without my knowledge. He was cheating, he was accepting money to fuck men in ways he’d never done with me, and he was exposing me to all manner of sexually transmitted diseases since we’d opted out of condoms when we got engaged.

I was a God damned fool.

I must have made a noise in my duress because both the man and Blaine whipped their heads toward the door.

All hell broke loose.

The stranger asking if I’d fuck him as good as Blaine if the price was right.

Blaine cursing and sobbing and begging.

Me throwing everything I owned into three large duffel bags.

The man tossed a couple hundreds on the bed as he dressed.

Blaine switched tactics to blame me for all of what I’d seen—still couldn’t figure how I had