Landry’s next round of chemo stripped away what little remained of his good mood even as it worked to kill off the cancerous cells in his body. Tilly fought the urge to intervene between the men on Cris’ behalf as Landry took his bad mood out on their resident slave. As Master Grouchypants turned into Master Major Assholio, she realized fully what Cris had suffered through—alone—the first time around. Landry occasionally acted terse with her when he felt particularly bad or tired, but he always immediately apologized for it.
Unlike with Cris, who took the full brunt of it head-on, usually without question or complaint.
Two weeks into his chemo, Cris was in the kitchen with his laptop, trying to multi-task between fixing dinner and handling a crisis at the office, where it was only three in the afternoon. Tilly volunteered to take over dinner, but Landry, stretched out on the couch, heard her offer.
“Don’t you dare do it, slave!” he yelled. “I told you to fix dinner, goddammit, and that’s what I meant.”
She watched Cris close his eyes, recognizing that old expression of his as he tried to rein in his irritation. “Yes, Master,” he called back before looking at Tilly. “Thanks anyway,” he whispered, offering her a half-hearted smile.
She returned to the living room. “Lan, listen, he’s busy. Let me do it, sweetie. I’m not doing anything.”
“No.” The petulant look on his face meant he’d dug in his heels on the principle of the matter.
No amount of wheedling on her part would probably change his mind.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She knelt beside him and forced a sultry smile. “Please? I promise I’ll do a little modeling for you later, if you’d like.”
His eyes flicked her way, then returned to the TV. She might be making ground. “No. He can handle it. You don’t need to do his job. I don’t want my wife to have to work. That’s slave’s job.”
From the kitchen and out of Landry’s line of sight, Cris anxiously shook his head at her, warning her to drop it, but she couldn’t. She understood Landry felt like shit, but he’d hardly paid Cris a single kind word in days.
She took a deep breath. “I really think I should take care of dinner toni—”
“Goddammit, Tilly, I fucking said no. Now drop it.”
Tilly blinked, shocked at his tone as much as his words. She was about to let him have it, but Cris raced around the counter before she could come up with a response.
Cris stepped in front of her. “Landry, goddammit, don’t you dare take that fucking tone with her!”
Landry sat up, his face red with rage. “What the fuck did you say to me, slave?”
Tilly tried to get between the men, but Cris gently pushed her behind him. “You fucking heard me. Lay off her, she was just trying to be helpful. You want to be pissed off, take it out on me, not her, goddammit.”
Landry stood, although she saw the effort pained him, and got in Cris’ face. “How dare you, you ungrateful bastard!”
“Ungrateful? You’re the one treating her like shit right now, and you’re calling me ungrateful?”
“Boys, please, stop! It’s okay.”
Landry ignored her and stepped forward, but Cris refused to give ground. “No, it’s not okay, Til,” Cris insisted. “He’s just being a pain in the ass.”
“I’m going to beat that attitude out of you, slave,” Landry growled. “Need to remind you who’s in charge. Teach you respect.”
Tilly didn’t like how pale Landry suddenly looked. She stepped around Cris and resurrected her own Domme-y voice. “Stop it, both of you!” She forced herself between Landry and Cris. “I am going to cook dinner, and that’s all there is to it. Cardinal’s Rule, remember? It’s my fucking house. You are going to sit your ass back down on that couch and watch TV, and you’re going to let him get his work done. That’s a fucking order!”
“He can’t talk to me like that! I refuse to tolerate that behavior from him.”
“What,” Cris taunted, “you mean calling you out for acting like a dickhead and treating her like shit? At least I never treated her like that. I never raised my voice to her, you fucking asshole! You want to abuse me, fine, I’ll take it, but you treat her like shit and you and me will get into it, because I won’t tolerate it.”
Tilly winced as Landry roared, enraged, and lunged around her trying to get at Cris. She refused to budge and that’s when Landry’s face went from pissed to pained and he gasped.
Cris didn’t miss it either. “What? What’s wrong?”
He doubled over in pain. “Sick…”
Cris raced for the kitchen garbage can as Tilly steadied Landry. They got it under him just as he vomited bright red blood.
Stunned, Cris froze.
“Call 911 right now, Cris.” She was too busy holding the garbage can under Landry and trying to get him back to the couch.
When she realized he hadn’t moved, she looked at him. “Cris! Get the fucking phone and call
911! Get an ambulance!”
That broke through his shock and he bolted for the phone. She rode with Landry in the ambulance while Cris secured the house and followed in Tilly’s car. He caught up with her in the ER waiting room, where they stayed only fifteen minutes before Landry was taken back for surgery. A nurse showed them where to wait for word from the OR. Tilly led Cris to two vacant chairs in the room, which seemed unusually crowded for six o’clock at night.
Cris wouldn’t look at Tilly. “This is my fault,” he said, his pained voice little more than an agonized whisper. “This is all my fault. He’s going to hate me.”
She grabbed his hand. “Stop. This is not your fault!”
“If I hadn’t made him upset, he wouldn’t have yelled at me. This is just like my dad all over again. I’m sorry, Tilly. I should have just kept my mouth shut and not pissed him off more, but I couldn’t stand hearing him talk to you like that.”
Pushing back her conflicted emotions, she focused on comforting him. “Maybe that saved his life. If he hadn’t thrown up blood, he could have bled a lot worse before we knew he had a problem.
You didn’t cause his bleeding, so just stop.”
He pulled his hand free and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to hug himself. “Tilly, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to spare my feelings.” His voice dropped. “I should have just kept my mouth shut. I’m so sorry. If you want me to, I’ll leave.”
She wanted to scream at him but the waiting room full of people prevented that. She squatted in front of him, grabbed his head in her hands, and did something she had never done to Cris before.
She scruffed the back of his neck.
“Listen to me, slave,” she whispered, “you did not harm your Master.” She gently shook him for emphasis. “You guys had a fight. It didn’t cause his bleeding.”
His eyes widened as he looked at her, his instincts at war inside him, hers at war within her.
She knew she had his attention and pressed the advantage. “If he wakes up and finds out I didn’t snap you out of this, he’ll want to take a cane to my ass. Let me tell you something, I don’t plan on letting that happen. You’re the only whipping boy in our house.”
He slowly blinked before his lips curled in a faint smile. She stood and hugged him, his face pressed against her tummy as he wrapped his arms around her and softly cried. “Jesus, I love him, Til.
I’m sorry. I know this sucks for you. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stand hearing him yell at you. I’m sorry. I love him, but I can’t listen to him treat you like that and not stand up to him.”