Page 73 of Daddy Defender
The door creaks open, and there he is, my boy, curled in his blanket nest, Poot and Billy clutched tight.
Bodie’s blue eyes are wide, tear-streaked, but they light up when he sees me, his Little side bursting through.
“Daddy!” Bodie cries, scrambling out, throwing himself into my arms, tears of joy and relief streaming down his face.
I catch him, wincing as my injured arm protests, but I don’t care. He’s warm, soft, his romper brushing my skin, and I hold him close, my Daddy side complete.
“I’m here, sweet boy,” I murmur, kissing his forehead, his hair. “You were so brave. You were so good for Daddy.”
“You’re hurt!” Bodie gasps, pulling back, his hands hovering over my bloodied sleeve, his Little side worried but fierce. “Daddy, we gotta fix you!”
“It’s nothing,” I say, brushing it off, though the pain’s sharp now, adrenaline fading. “Just a scratch. Vince’sdone, Bodie. Tied up, cops on their way. He’s not hurting you again. Not ever.”
His eyes well up, relief and joy mixing, and he buries his face in my chest, clutching Poot.
“You kept your promise,” Bodie whispers, his voice small, all Little and trusting.
“And I always will,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. I ease him back into Shred, climbing in front, the van’s familiar chaos—blankets, pillows, his sketchpad—wrapping us in safety.
I’m exhausted, pain throbbing, but he’s here, my Little One, and that’s enough.
“Ready to go home, Little One?” I ask, ruffling his hair, my voice soft.
“Home with you, Daddy,” he says, smiling, his Little side glowing. “That’s the only place I ever want to be…”
I smile, wince in pain, and start the engine.
But now that Bodie is free from Vince, a part of me can’t help but wonder how he’ll feel once the adrenalin of the night dies down…
Chapter 25
Bodie
The safehouse is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like a hug after a storm—with Vince’s threat gone, it almost feels like a sanctuary, somewhere where I can let go of the past, safely ease myself back into the real world.
But first, I’ve got a job to do…
The ocean’s hum slips through the cracked window, mingling with the soft creak of the floorboards as I move around the tiny bathroom, gathering supplies.
Henry’s perched on the edge of the tub, his broad shoulders slumped, his black tee torn and bloodied where Vince’s knife grazed his arm.
There’s no other way of putting it, my Daddy is a mess—sweat, dirt, and that stubborn Daddy look in his dark eyes, like he’s still ready to fight the world for me.
My heart’s doing flips, my Little side glowing just being near him, but my grownup side’s worried, fussing over his wounds like they’re my own.
I’m in my romper, Poot and Billy watching from the couch in the next room, and every time I call him Daddy, it feels so right I could burst out laughing with sheer joy.
I nod and Daddy gingerly removes his t-shirt, or what’s left of it. It’s time to get to work…
“Daddy, holdstill,” I say, my voice soft but bossy, my Little side in full swing as I dab antiseptic on the gash. The cut’s not deep, but it’s angry, red and raw, and I wince as he hisses, his jaw tightening. “Sorry, I know it stings, but we need clean it good.”
Henry chuckles, low and gravelly, his eyes softening as he watches me work.
“You’re a regular nurse, Little One,” Henry says, his Daddy tone warm, teasing. “I didn’t know my surfer boy had this in him…”
I smile and grab a gauze pad from the first-aid kit Cole left behind when they came to the house.
“I’m full of surprises, Daddy,” I say, grinning, my Little side bubbling up. “Bet I could patch you upandout-surf you.” I press the gauze gently, taping it down, my fingers careful but sure. Calling him Daddy feels so natural now, like it’s always been there, waiting to spill out. “You know, I wanna shout it from the rooftops…Henry’s my Daddy!Just so everyone knows.”
