I stared at the box, unsure, but hopeful. “I can… really?”
“Really,” he said. “There’s no test.”
I hesitated, then reached out and picked up the small weighted pouch. It was heavier than it looked, warm from the room, settling into my palm in a way that made my shoulders drop without me meaning to.
“That one tends to be a favorite,” he said lightly. “Do you have any sensory items at home? If not, I would recommend getting a few different ones.”
I rested it in my lap, fingers curling around it. The steady pressure made my breathing slow, just a little.
“You can keep that with you for the rest of the session,” he said. “And if you ever want to switch, feel free to. I’ll keep the box here.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded. “You’re doing really well, Elior.”
I held the weight in my hands and let myself believe him—just a little.
* **
Daddy held out a round, squishy frog to me. “What about this one, baby boy?”
I let him hold it, but reached out and squeezed the toy, rubbing my fingers against it.
“It’s cute, but I don’t think so, Daddy,” I said, my eyes widening when I realized what I’d called him out loud. “Sorry,” I whispered, my cheeks heating.
Daddy had explained in the car that I should try not to call him that in public. Not because he was embarrassed by the title, he said it was actually quite the opposite, but because other people might be mean about it.
Still, Daddy didn’t admonish me. He just chuckled and pulled me against him. I sighed into his chest, almost whining when, after a minute, he let me go and stepped away to place the frog back on the shelf.
“It’s okay, cherub.”
I followed behind him as he led me down another aisle, this one filled with even more toys.
After my session with Mark, I’d told him about the sensory stuff and how Mark had said it might be good for me to have some around the house. Daddy had thought that it made perfect sense and decided to stop at a store on the way home.
He warned me about how it might be too bright, loud, and busy inside, but said that he thought it would probably be better for me to test out my new things before buying them, rather than buying something online that I might not like when it arrives.
There weren’t too many people shopping, but it was still a bit overwhelming. Somewhere near the front of the store, a child was crying in that sharp, piercing way, and it made my shoulders pull up.
Daddy noticed immediately.
His hand slid to the small of my back, firm and grounding, steering me just a little closer to his side.
Every time someone walked past us too closely, his posture shifted—his shoulders squared, his gaze hardening as he tracked them until they were well out of our space.
It was like he was a wall between me and the rest of the world.
“Tell me if you need to leave,” he said quietly.
“I’m okay right now,” I murmured, looking up at him. He was so handsome and so strong. The perfect protector. “You make me feel safe.”
He smiled at that.
We stopped in front of a display of textured balls—spiky, smooth, rubbery, some filled with beads that shifted when you squeezed them. Daddy picked one up, rolling it in his palm before offering it to me.
“Try this.”
I took it, pressing my thumb into the soft surface. The beads inside slowly slid around, creating a gentle resistance that made my breath hitch in a good way.
