Page 79 of Daddy Defender
But Henry’s Daddy style is here too—dark wood furniture, a sleek coffee table that screams “I’m in charge,” and his jazz records stacked neatly by the turntable, Miles Davis humming softly even now. Weirdly, I’ve actually started to like jazz. It’s kind of like surfing when you think about it. Feel the notes, let them guide you and work in harmony with your mood, just like you’d do with the ocean.
But whether you like Little décor or jazz, I know one thing. This place is perfect for us, an ideal blend, and every time I step inside, my heart does a happy flip.
Right now, I’m in the kitchen, barefoot on the cool tiles, my romper dotted with paint from touching up the stuffy shelf. And I’ve got work to do to get the food and snacks ready for a little fun.
Cole and Richie are here for the weekend, their laughter drifting from the living room where Richie’s sprawled on the rug, his stuffy Fizz in his lap.
Cole’s hulking frame fills the armchair, his eyes soft as he watches his Little, his Daddy vibe as strong as Henry’s.
They’re staying over before Henry, Cole, and Connor head out tomorrow on a Guard mission—some out-of-country op that’ll keep them gone for two weeks.
I can’t lie, my stomach twists thinking about it… but my Little side’s trying to be brave, focusing on the sunset picnic we’re prepping for, baskets piled with sandwiches, juice boxes, and cookies shaped like surfboards.
Richie bounces into the kitchen, his arms swinging and swishing.
“Bodie, need help with the baskets?” Richie asks, his eyes full of mischief, Fizz tucked under his arm. “Fizz says we need extra cookies for the beach party. And he also says we should sneak a couple right now!”
I giggle, handing him a stack of napkins, my Little side perking up.
“Fizz’s got the right idea,” I say, winking. “But we gotta save some for Daddy and Cole. They’ll be grumpy without their sugar fix.”
I nudge Richie, and he laughs, his eyes bright, but there’s a flicker of something else… worry, maybe, about the mission.
We work side by side, packing the baskets, the kitchen warm with sunlight and the clink of glass bottles. Richie’s quiet for a moment, folding napkins, then looks at me, his voice softer.
“Bodie, does it ever get easier?” Richie says. “I hope it does.” Richie fingers fidget with Fizz’s ear, his Little side showing his nerves. “I know I’ve been in this world longer than you, but I miss Cole so much when he’s gone. It’s like… half of me is missing. But I wouldn’t change him, not ever. He’s my Daddy, you know?”
I nod, my heart squeezing, and set down the juice box I’m holding.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, my voice small, my Little side feeling the same ache. “Henry’s only been away once for a quick reconnaissance mission. But it’s super tough, isn’t it? I get all antsy, like I’m waiting for a wave that won’t come. I hug Poot and Billy extra tight, sketch a ton, but it’s not the same without Daddy’s rules, his voice calling me his baby boy.” I lean against the counter, focusing myself and remembering everything Henry and I have discussed about his life. “But I wouldn’t trade him either. He’s a Night Ops Guard, all brave and badass, and that’s part of why I love him. We just gotta be brave too, right? For our Daddies.”
Richie smiles, his eyes misty, and hugs me, Fizz squished between us.
“Right,” Richie says, his Little side bouncing back. “We’re tough Littles. We’ll have sleepovers, color, maybe even surf! Keep each other company till they’re back.”
“Deal,” I say, grinning, hooking my pinky with his. “You, me, Fizz, Poot, Billy, and Bubbles—best Little squad ever.”
We giggle, the worry easing, and finish packing, the baskets overflowing with picnic goodies. My Little side’s buzzing, excited for the beach, but my grownup side clings to his words…
Being without Henry will hurt, but with Richie, I won’t be alone, and that makes it bearable.
Henry’s voice booms from the living room, deep and warm.
“Little One, you and Richie ready? Sun’s not waiting for us!” Henry steps into the kitchen, his black tee hugging his shoulders, his scar catching the light, his Daddy vibe in full force.
Cole’s behind Henry, a duffel slung over his shoulder, both of them looking like they could take on a militia single-handed. My heart does that flip again, love and pride swelling for my Daddy.
“Ready, Daddy!” I chirp, grabbing a basket, my heart fluttering.
Richie grabs the other basket, and we follow them out, the screen door creaking as we step onto the porch.
The beach stretches before us, golden sand kissed by the setting sun, the sky a blaze of pink and orange. The waves roll gentle, whispering promises of freedom, and I feel it—that surfer boy spark, mixed with the safety of Henry’s rules, his love.
We trek down the path, my flip-flops slapping the sand, Henry’s hand brushing mine, his fingers warm and rough.
Cole and Richie are ahead, his giggles carrying as Cole swings their basket, his deep laugh rumbling.
I steal a glance at Henry, his profile strong, his eyes soft as he watches the horizon. My Little side wants to skip, to twirl, but I know that I need to say something, to anchor this moment before he’s gone for two weeks…
