Brie
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 3: It’s Something We Do
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’ve been quiet since we left.”
“I’m just tired. It’s late.”
He glanced over at me.
“Are you upset?”
“No.”
“You seem upset.”
I kept my eyes on the window.
“They were cool about it,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“They didn’t care.”
“I know.”
His hand slipped over and rested on mine.
I looked down at it for a moment before looking back out the window.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He was quiet for a few seconds.
“Is it those?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed about tonight.”
“I’m not.”
“You were nervous about them seeing you in those. I get it.”
“That’s not what’s bothering me.”
He glanced over at me.
“Then what is?”
I didn’t answer.
Penny’s voice was still in my head.
Badass bar owner and prison bitch girlfriend.
But it was more than that.
It was the fact that when Tim brought out the restraints, I just held out my hands.
I stopped thinking about it.
There was no hesitation.
I didn’t even ask myself whether I wanted to wear them.
I just did what I was told.
Just like when I was locked up.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
I had been honest when I told him I was fine with it behind closed doors. In the bedroom. I was. I knew that.
But tonight, it had made me realize something I hadn’t really wanted to look at.
Somewhere along the way, it had stopped being just something we did together.
It had become routine.
Tim brought out the restraints.
I held out my hands.
He put them on.
And I accepted it without thinking.
The realization made my stomach tighten.
I opened my eyes and stared out the window again.
It wasn’t that I suddenly hated the restraints.
It wasn’t even that I didn’t want Tim to use them.
It was the fact that I had become so accustomed to being restrained that I barely questioned it anymore.
After everything I’d spent years being forced to accept in prison, I had somehow brought part of that routine home with me.
Only now, nobody was forcing me.
That was what bothered me.
I had chosen to let it become normal.
“I’ve just been thinking.”
“About what?”
I hesitated.
“Just ... everything.”
He glanced over at me. I knew he wanted more.
But I just looked back out the window.
“It’s been a long day.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Was it something they said?”
I shook my head.
“No. Nothing like that.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
I gave him a small smile.
“I just don’t really want to talk about it right now.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded.
His hand found mine again.
“You know, Penny really likes you.”
I glanced over at him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“She thinks you’re a serious badass.”
Normally, I would have smiled at that. But I just couldn’t right now.
So, I looked back out the window instead.
“Charlotte kind of helped with that.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him looking over at me, waiting for more.
“She, um ... she told her that I don’t take shit from people.”
He glanced over at me again.
“She came over to the bar once. Just had a drink. We were talking.”
I briefly looked over at him before turning my attention back to the window.
“Girl stuff. You know.”
He smiled faintly.
“And there was this guy there. He was being a dick. Bothering some women—from the town over.”
I paused.
“The last thing I needed was to scare off the few real customers I had, especially given that most of the people who came through were ex-cons using the bar as their first stop after getting out.”
I shrugged.
“So, I may have kicked him in the groin and dragged him outside.”
He just looked at me.
I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept watching the woods pass by.
“I asked him to leave. He wouldn’t.”
“You never told me that.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I wish you had told me.”
I looked over at him.
“That wasn’t safe,” he said. “You should have called the police.”
“Tim, assholes come to the bar. That’s the kind of people who go there. And calling the cops would just make things worse.”
I looked back outside.
“Convicted felon, remember?”
I stared at the woods passing beside us.
“They’d just assume I was the problem.”
I paused.
“That’s how that works.”
He squeezed my hand before turning his attention back to the road.
It was mostly empty now. It was late, and there wasn’t much out here to begin with. Every so often, a set of headlights would appear in the distance, pass us, and disappear behind us. Then nothing again.
Especially this far out—at ass end.
Every now and then, I’d catch a pair of eyes reflecting back from the woods. A bear, maybe. Some other wild animal.
But that was about it.
“I need to get gas.”
I looked over, tilting my head to see the dashboard, then nodded.
“There’s that gas station,” I said. “Probably should stop there. The one out by us, the pumps always seem to be broken.”
A few minutes later, the lights of the station appeared.
It was one of those small places that seemed to exist mostly for people who were awake at unreasonable hours. A convenience store attached to the pumps, bright white lights under the canopy, everything around it dark.
Tim pulled in and stopped.
“I’ll be right back.”
I nodded, staring out the window.
For a moment, everything was quiet again.
I looked down at my wrists.
The belly box was resting against my stomach, the connecting chain running down between my legs and through the leg restraints.
I shifted slightly in the seat.
The cuffs moved with me.
I sighed.
This was becoming one of those things where I noticed them simply because I was thinking about them.
In prison, you had to learn how to push things like that out of your mind. They were just there. Like clothes. You didn’t think about it.
“I have to go inside,” Tim said, suddenly appearing beside the window and startling me. I hadn’t even seen him walk back. “Card’s not working.”
“Sure.”
I watched him disappear through the glass doors, leaning my head against the seat.
I just wanted to go home.
A few seconds later, another vehicle pulled into the station.
A large pickup.
It stopped at the pump directly across from us.
I glanced over without really thinking about it.
A man climbed out and glanced over at me.
He closed the door and started toward the store.
Then he stopped and turned around.
For a second, I thought he was just going back to his truck. Instead, he walked toward me.
“Brie?”
For a second, I didn’t recognize him.
Maybe it was the clothes. He was wearing jeans and a dark jacket, with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead.
He smiled.
“Brie?” he repeated.
Then it hit me.
“Hey.”
I smiled.
“Wow. You look ... different.”
He laughed quietly.
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at himself. “Don’t wear that uniform all the time.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good.”
I nodded, leaning forward slightly. One of those long, exaggerated nods you do when you’re not really sure what to say.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded back.
“Good.”
The way he said it.
It wasn’t forced. Like he actually meant it.
He leaned one hand against the roof of the car.
“Late night?”
“Yeah. Just trying to get home.”
He nodded again.
“From the bar? You still have it?”
“You remember that?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Keep telling myself I need to stop by sometime. Maybe get a drink. Say hi.”
I smiled.
“Yeah. Yeah, my mom left it to me.”
I shrugged, and without really thinking about it, my wrists moved with me.
I looked at him, hoping he hadn’t heard the rattle.
But his eyes dropped.
I knew the exact moment he saw them.
The belly box.
The chain.
His smile faded, and his expression changed.
“Are ... are you being transported?”
I stared at him.
“Is something happening?”
“No. No,” I said, shaking my head.
He looked toward the store, then back at me.
“I thought you were released?”
“I am. Probation’s over. All of that’s done.”
He looked down at the restraints again.
“Why ... why are you in those?”
He said it slowly, like he was trying to process it all.
It was a simple question.
I just didn’t know how to answer it.
He looked toward the store again.
I could see him watching Tim through the glass, still inside talking to the clerk.
Then he looked back at me.
“Are you in trouble?”
There was concern in his voice now.
“Do you need help?”
He glanced down at the restraints again.
Then toward the store.
His hand went to the door handle.
“Come on. I’ll get you out of here.”
There was no panic in his voice. No hesitation, either.
He’d already made up his mind.
“Come on,” he repeated. “I’ll take you to the sheriff’s office. I’ll call them on the way.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m—I’m not in trouble. I’m not. Really.”
He slowly took his hand off the door handle.
“I—” He looked at me. “You’re...”
His eyes dropped to the restraints again.
He clearly didn’t know what to say.
“I’m okay,” I told him. “I’m not in any kind of trouble.”
“Why ... why are you in those?”
I sighed.
“It’s ... complicated.”
He just stared at me, the concern still on his face.
“Complicated?”
“Yeah.”
I took a breath.
“Um...”
I closed my eyes for a second.
Then I just said it.
“That’s my guy in there.”
I looked toward the store.
“He put these on me.”
He blinked.
His eyes went toward the store, then back to me.
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“He—he put you in those?”
“Yeah.”
He stared at me for a moment.
I could see him trying to make sense of it all.
“Why?”
I looked away.
“We—”
I let out a quiet breath.
There wasn’t really a good way to finish the sentence.
“It’s something we do,” I finally told him.
He frowned slightly.
“Something you do?”
“Yeah.”
I looked at him, feeling more ashamed than embarrassed.
“With those?”
I nodded.
“Yeah,” I repeated, quieter this time.
“I—I don’t under—.”
His eyes widened.
Then I saw it happen.
The realization.
“Oh.”
He looked down.
He didn’t seem to know where to look anymore.
His face had gone slightly red.
I could see the embarrassment settling in as he realized what he’d just stumbled into.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
“I—I’m sorry,” he began, still not looking at me. He shook his head slightly. “I completely misread the situation.”
“It’s fine,” I told him quickly, trying to keep things from getting any more awkward than they already were. “These weren’t exactly my favorite fashion accessory. I can see how you might have thought...”
A small chuckle escaped him, almost despite himself.
“You were ... pretty quiet,” he said. “Honestly, it was hard to tell. You tolerated them better than some of the other inmates.”
I knew he was trying to be funny. Trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’m kind of realizing that now.”
I looked down at the restraints.
“But I had my moments.”
He nodded sideways, like he didn’t completely agree.
“Compared to some?”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’ve got one right now. About the same age you were. Young.” He shook his head. “Convicted of attempted murder, arson, fraud. Acts like she’s at a resort and this is all temporary.”
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