Page 38 of Daddy Defender
How does he move so quietly for such a big guy?
“Uh, just looking,” I mumble, shoving the duck back on the shelf like it’s radioactive.
My heart’s pounding, embarrassment flooding me.
I’m twenty-three, a surfer boy who’s dodged cartel goons, and here I am blushing over a stuffed duck.
Vince used to mock my Little side when he felt like it, calling my rompers and Poot “kid stuff” when he wasn’t pretending to be cool with it.
What if Henry thinks it’s dumb too? He seems like he’s down with Daddy and Little stuff, but I don’t know how deep it all runs for him.
Henry tilts his head, his dark eyes softening, no judgment in them.
“You don’t have to hide it, Bodie,” Henry says, his voice low, like we’re sharing a secret. “You love stuffies, don’t you? I saw how you hold onto Poot. It’s cute. Real cute.”
My jaw drops, and I clutch Poot tighter, my face so hot I’m sure it’s glowing.
“It’s not… I mean… it’s just a thing,” I stammer, my Little side squirming under his gaze. “I’m not a kid or anything.”
But my voice is small, and I can’t meet his eyes, too scared he’ll laugh or turn cold like Vince did. My heart is thumping though because Henry actually sounds like he might genuinely be cool with all this.
In that moment, Henry steps closer, his boots scuffing the floor, and picks up the duck with sunglasses. He turns it over in his big hands, inspecting it like it’s a mission briefing.
“This guy’s got style,” Henry says, a grin tugging at his lips. “Billy,huh? Good name. Want him?”
I blink, my brain short-circuiting.
“You’re… not weirded out?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “I mean, I’m a grown-ass man, and I’m standing here going all gooey-eyed over a stuffed duck.”
Henry chuckles, the sound warm and rough, like a wave rolling in.
“Weirded out?Nah, sweet,” Henry chuckles. “I like that you’ve got this side to you. Makes you…you.” He holds out the duck, his eyes steady, no trace of mockery. “I’m buying. Pick Billy or another one, but you’re not leaving without a new friend.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, tears prickling my eyes.
It’s such a small thing, but it feels huge, like he’s seeing my Little side and not just accepting it butwantingit.
I take Billy from Henry, my fingers brushing his, and the contact sends a spark up my arm, making my heart skip.
“Okay,” I say, clutching the duck and Poot, my voice wobbly. “Billy’s cool.”
Henry nods, his grin widening.
“Good choice, Little One.” Henry smiles. That nickname again, wrapping around me like a blanket, and I can’t help but smile, my Little side glowing despite the fear still knotted in my gut.
I’m starting to trust Henry, and it’s terrifying.
Vince played nice at first too, and look where that got me.
But Henry’s different, right? He’s got to be.
We head to the counter, my arms full of Billy, Poot, gummies, and soda. Henry adds his energy drinks, a bag of jerky, and some sandwiches wrapped in plastic.
The old guy at the counter rings us up, barely looking up from his newspaper, and Henry pays with cash, quick and no fuss.
I watch him, the way he moves with purpose, always scanning, always ready.
Henry’s not just some guy playing hero—he’s built for this, and it makes me wonder what else he’s hiding. That story about Hicks, the chopper, the guilt… there’s more to Henry than he’s letting on, and it’s both comforting and scary as hell.
