We left the store a minute later, my eyes widening again in awe at the seemingly magical automatic sliding doors.
Daddy didn’t let go of me until we were right beside the car.
“Keys,” he muttered to himself, then unlocked the doors and opened the passenger side for me. I climbed in obediently, settling into the seat while he set the shopping bag on the floor at my feet. Once I was buckled, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.
The moment he slid in and shut his door, the world feltsmaller again. Safer.
Daddy started the car, then reached over into the shopping bag. “You want to try that chocolate?” he asked.
I nodded, suddenly shy. “I think so.”
He smiled and handed it to me, already unwrapped halfway. “Go slow.”
I took a small bite, careful like he’d said.
Oh.
It was so sweet. Not sharp or bitter like I’d expected—just smooth and creamy, melting on my tongue in a way that made my brain feel fuzzy. I made a soft sound before I could stop myself, pressing the chocolate against my lips again just to make sure it was real.
Daddy chuckled. “Yeah?”
“It’s… really good,” I said, amazed. “It tastes like milk, but… thicker. And warm?”
“That’s the sugar,” he said, amused. “And the cocoa butter.”
I nodded like I understood, even though I didn’t. I took another bite, letting it melt instead of chewing. It felt indulgent, like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to, but Daddy had given it to me, so it had to be okay.
I glanced at him. He was watching me closely, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped casually along the console. His eyes softened when he saw my expression.
“I had a feeling you’d love it.”
I smiled around the chocolate, then swallowed. “Can we get it again sometime?”
“Of course, baby,” he said easily.
I finished the piece I’d bitten off and set the rest on my lap, wrapping the paper back around it. My fingers were a little sticky, but I didn’t mind.
Daddy reached over and wiped them with a napkin he’d pulled from the console.
“You did really good today,” he said. “The store, therapy, all of it.”
My heart fluttered. “I did?”
“You did,” he confirmed. “I’m proud of you.”
I leaned back in my seat, content and sleepy in the best way, clutching the chocolate bar like it was something precious.
Outside, cars came and went, and people walked past without a second glance. Inside, it was just us.
Daddy put the car in gear, and we pulled out of the parking lot, heading home.
10
Jace
Elior was blossoming under my care.
It was impossible not to notice. Even if I’d wanted to pretend otherwise—which I didn’t—there was no denying the change. A month after that first therapy appointment, after three more weekly sessions with Mark, he looked like someone who’d stepped back into the light after a long time underground.
