Daddy set my glass down on a side table, then said, “Sit down.”
I did, sinking into the cushions, pulling my legs up. Before I could even think to ask, he picked up the throw blanket and shook it out, then draped it around my shoulders and tucked it in around my sides. He folded it over my legs, cocooning me.
I wiggled my arms free as he got the smoothie. He then placed it in my hands again, adjusting my grip so I wouldn’t spill it.
“There you go,” he said proudly.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Jace sat down beside me, then shifted and pulled me gently into his side. His arm came around my shoulders, solid and warm.
I leaned into him before I could stop myself.
The anxiety that had been buzzing under my skin dulled, notgone but quieter, like someone had turned the volume down. My breathing matched his without me trying, and suddenly, everything felt more manageable.
I took another sip of the smoothie and rested my head against his chest.
Yes.
This was easier.
This—being bundled up and held, not expected to know anything or decide anything—felt like something I could survive.
Maybe… maybe I could just stay like this forever.
Daddy pressed a chaste kiss to the top of my head, then reached over to the side table for something.
“Do you want to try watching TV, baby? Or do you think that would be too much for you right now?”
“Too much…” I admitted softly, my fingers tightening just a little around the glass.
Daddy didn’t hesitate or push. He simply nodded and set whatever he’d picked up back on the table without turning the TV on. “Okay,” he said easily. “Then we won’t.”
The relief that washed through me was immediate and a little embarrassing. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been about answering wrong until the tension melted away.
“Do you want quiet,” he continued, his voice gentle, “or do you want me to talk to you?”
I thought about it for a second, cheek pressed to his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding me. “Can you… just stay?” I asked. “Like this?”
A soft huff of a laugh vibrated through him, warm and affectionate. “Yeah, baby,” he said, tightening his arm around my shoulders. “I can do that.”
He shifted slightly so I was fully tucked against his side, his hand rubbing slow, absent circles against my upper arm through the blanket. The motion was repetitive and gentle, like he wasn’t even thinking about it—and somehow that made it feel safer.
I took another sip of the smoothie, then another, the glass gradually growing lighter in my hands. Each swallow felt like a small victory, but Daddy didn’t comment on it. He didn’t make it athing. He just let me be.
When I finished, I handed him the glass without looking up. He took it carefully and set it aside, then pulled the blanket back up around my shoulders where it had slipped.
“I’m so proud of you, cherub,” he said. “We’ll get you healthier. Baby steps.”
I sighed, the sound slipping out of me before I could stop it. My body felt heavy now, pleasantly so, like the fight had finally drained out of me. I curled a little closer, my knees pressing into his thigh.
Daddy’s other hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “And I’m going to take such good fucking care of you, baby. I promise.”
I swallowed, emotion tightening my throat. “I love you too, Daddy. I’m just scared. I don’t know how to be… out here,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“All you have to do is stay here, with me. That’s it.”
