I had no idea what I ate, but I got it down, my throat suddenly tight with a whole different kind of yearning that I’d never let myself acknowledge—the satisfaction of providing for and caring for someone who truly needed me. It was another thing I’d been denying myself all of these years, and now that I was getting a little taste of it, it wasn’t just perfect, it was exactly the type of relaxing that I’d needed to get away to find.
We didn’t speak for a while, but I was in no rush. Eventually, though, he finished the last of the healthy foods he’d chosen and folded up the wrappers into a tiny square, suddenly looking self-conscious as he fiddled with them and glanced anxiously around the pristine suite.
“Here,” I prompted, holding out my hand and then depositing them in a discreet trash can next to the couch. “Now eat your chocolate for me, sweetheart. Unless you don’t like candy?”
“I like it,” he said quickly, clutching it in his hand like it might run away if he didn’t. “Are you… are you sure you want me to have it?”
“Of course.”
“Okay,” he said, biting his lip and then suddenly bursting forth with a smile that almost floored me. So bright and beautiful it made something inside me ache. “Thank you.”
He untwisted the wrapper, reached inside, but then immediately yanked his hand back, wincing. “Ow.”
A drop of red pooled on his thumb. “Here, baby. Let me see.”
He gave me his hand, palm up so I could see his minor injury, and immediately relaxed in my hold. A flush of heat went through me. His skin was softer than I’d expected, but there was still strength to his hands… and beneath that, there was something else.
Rightness.
Possibly even trust.
Something that affirmed I wasmeantto care for him.
“Sorry,” he whispered, peeking up at me like he’d done something wrong. “Getting cut on a wrapper is pretty stupid. I didn’t… didn’t mean to be a baby about it.”
I had called him that, but I hadn’t meant itthatway.“Anyone can get a paper cut, sweetheart. That’s not stupid; it’s just poor packaging.” I winked. “And they reallysting, don’t they?”
He nodded, an almost imperceptible shiver moving through him when I smoothed my fingers over his palm, then right up to the edge of the small cut.
“You need a Band-Aid.”
His eyes widened again. “Oh! No, you don’t have to. I’m sure it… it’ll be fine.”
He was probably right, but cuts like thatdidsting… and I didn’t know which was more compelling, my need to soothe his pain, however minor, or the simple satisfaction of caring for him.
I replaced his hand in his lap and stood up. “It’s not optional,” I told him. “Now be good and wait here for me while I grab one for you.”
I was almost certain I’d seen a Band-Aid in the bathroom amidst the shower cap and sewing kit and all of that othernonsense, and sure enough, the flat package was right where I expected it to be.
When I returned, the boy was still holding out his hand, just where I’d left him, eyes just as wide and surprised-looking, too, as if he truly hadn’t moved at all.
I dabbed the cut with an antiseptic wipe I’d also grabbed, then opened the Band-Aid and wrapped it carefully around his thumb, smoothing over the top with one gentle finger when I was done. I smiled. Of course I would never want him hurt, but for all that the Band-Aid was incongruous-looking with his outfit, it also looked… cute.
And even better, I’d put it there, so it also made him look a little bit like hewasmine.
“All better, sweet boy?”
He blinked up at me, his eyes still as wide as saucers and now filled with what I could have sworn was awe. “You… you put a Band-Aid on me,” he said hesitantly.
I paused, still holding his hand. Had that been out of line?
“You put a Band-Aid on me,” he repeated, like he was having trouble believing it. Then he bit his lip, adding a shy, “That was really nice of you.”
I grinned. Not out of line, then. With any other adult, I suppose I would have just handed them the package and left them to it. Hell, if it had been anyone else, I probably would have suggested they check the bathroom on their own or just figured it wasn’t my problem.But this boy made me want all the things I’d denied myself for so long. Sexual things, of course, but other things, too. Moments like this one. A taste of something I’d long suspected I wanted, but never had the chance—never thought Iwouldhave the chance—to actually have.
I raised his bandaged thumb to my lips and gave it a chaste kiss. “Of course I did. I want to take care of you, baby.”
His breath hitched, then I got another one of those blinding smiles.
