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Ugh, the traffic noise and heat got to me, and I couldn’t think properly when the matter was this important, because something was clearly very wrong. I needed more than the semblance of privacy that an alleyway restaurant could offer, so I scurried ahead and peered down the first alley I saw. Okay, no good. It was full of dumpsters. But the next! It was almost empty!
“We’re going in here,” I said.
My stomach felt off, like it had a rock of worry lodged in it. I hated that.
Daddy followed me, probably knowing we had to straighten this out, and when I glanced back at him, I felt the familiar shift. The moment Daddy became KC in my head. It was sometimes necessary, even though I wasn’t a fan. All my Little antics took a hike, and I had to get serious.
I scratched the side of my head and came to a stop.
He stopped too, a couple feet away, and kept his stare on his lap.
I tucked my sunglasses into the neckline of my tee. “That’s something we say sometimes, you know. We compete playfully about whose Daddy’s the strongest. It’s not serious.”
He nodded once. “I understand that.”
“Then why…?”
“Because it gets to me, sweetheart.” He finally lifted his gaze, and I detested the pain I saw there. “Most of the time, I’m perfectly happy, but I have shitty days like everyone else, and…” He blew out a breath. “I hate that I will never be able to chase you around or act like the other Tops when they throw their Littles over their shoulders and clown off. Fuck, I can’t even go down the stairs?—”
“Okay, stop.” I felt my eyes widen, and hurt slashed through me, mostly because I felt his pain. I felt the anguish he carried, and it made my eyes burn.
He clenched his jaw. “I’m not in the running to be the strongest Daddy, even on playful terms, Noa.”
I sniffled and shook my head stubbornly. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not?—”
“Yes, you fucking are!” I whisper-shouted, exploding with anger. It swirled up like a raging storm within me, and I got so damn mad. He hadn’t seen it coming either. He was caught off guard by my outburst, even though his own signature Hayles stubbornness slipped a mask of composure onto his face. “Right now, you’re saying some really mean things about the most important person in the world to me, and it’s pissing me off,” I gritted out. “Do you honestly think I measure strength in how many brats you can run down the hill with over your shoulder?”
“Of course not, but you have to admit everything with me is goddamn complicated. I can’t book an excursion without asking if there’s a ramp?—”
“My question was rhetorical,” I snapped. “I don’t give a flying fuck about the extra measures we take to make your next step comfortable. Lifts, canes, chairs, braces, making sure an establishment is wheelchair-friendly—whatever the fuck! I don’t care, and I sure as hell don’t think it makes you complicated.” I took a quick breath, too fired up to even try to calm down. “It sucks—it sucks so fucking hard—that you got caught in that avalanche, but there’s a big difference between you and me, KC. You seem to think the accident weakened you, whereas I see the fact that you survived it makes you stronger.”
He looked like I’d just slapped him, but I wasn’t done.
“I’m not placating you when I call you strong or when I joke around with my friends,” I told him. “I’m just seeing all the shit you have to go through on a daily basis that everyone else takes for granted. Trust me, KC, I see everything. I see how you think ahead at every turn. I see how you plan your errands according to how much you can manage. I see how you push yourself every single day—you never give up, you never skip a workout session, your self-discipline is made of fucking iron.” I drew another breath, the steam slowly leaving me. Maybe him too. He looked away from me, screwed his eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not pity, it’s not placation, it’s not a damn participation trophy. I have empathy, and I have admiration. I’m in fucking awe of you, KC. Don’t you dare take that away from me.”
My KC wasn’t a crier, so when he covered his eyes with his hand and his shoulders trembled, it shot panic straight through me. Holy fuck, I’d gone too far! Before I knew it, I’d scrambled up on his lap, and I locked my arms around him.
“Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, I’m sorry,” I rambled, getting upset all over again. “Please don’t cry.”
He shook his head and wrapped his arms around me in a tight grip. “You said nothing wrong, freckles,” he croaked. “I just don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you.”
Oh. Great. Now I became weepy from sheer relief, and I couldn’t take this much longer. Let the emotional torture end, dammit!
I sniffled and whimpered. “You’d probably lead a very boring life.”
He let out a tearful chuckle and tightened his hold on me. “You got that right.”
I buried my face against his neck and tried to take a steadying breath. Being angry wasn’t my favorite, so to speak. I couldn’t control myself then. And it exhausted me afterward.
“Christ…” He exhaled and pressed a kiss to my neck. I didn’t like feeling the dampness of tears on his cheeks. “When you said that about the accident and how surviving it made me stronger, I thought I was going to lose it completely.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only hug him harder and breathe through the rest of the moment—but I hoped the danger had passed. I’d said some stuff that made him feel better, right?
“I can’t live without your perspective in my life, baby.”
Good, ’cause he was stuck with me.
