I watched her. Every so often, she’d make a little sound, a twitch, like the shock was still working itself out. I tucked theblanket tighter around her. Checked her blood sugar, gentle, barely waking her, and she didn’t even flinch.
I woke her for an easy meal of eggs, but she was still half-asleep so I carried her upstairs. She barely woke, just blinked at me, then wrapped her arms around my neck and let me settle her on the bed. I didn’t try to strip her down, just peeled off her pants and left her in the hoodie, and socks. I didn’t want to let go.
She squirmed closer when I got under the covers, her head tucked under my chin, Mr. Snuggles wedged between us. I held her. Listened to her breathe.
After a long, long time the knots in my chest loosened. Just a little. I texted the team. “I need a birthday cake and surprises for tomorrow.”
“On it,” Gideon texted back.
I thought about what he’d admitted. I knew if I asked Lottie she wouldn’t know when my birthday wasbecause I hadn’t told her. I hadn’t shared anything. No wonder she worried our relationship might be temporary. The one time she’d asked I’d shut her down.
But that stopped now. Starting tomorrow, no,starting right now.
Chapter seventeen
Lottie
I woke up to the smell of coffee and something sweet, and for a second, I thought I was dreaming. Sunlight everywhere, dappled on the sheets. Warm arms around me, his shirtless chest under my cheek. I was wrapped up so tightly I couldn’t even move, but I didn’t want to—not ever.
Walker shifted when I blinked awake, one hand smoothing my hair, the other already holding out the meter for my sugar. I didn’t even think, just let him prick my finger. The number must’ve been good because he smiled slowly and kissed the top of my head.
“Morning, princess. Happy birthday.”
My brain fuzzed out. “You know?”
Walker huffed, but his face was so soft it almost hurt to look at him, and guilt slammed into me. He helped me to the bathroomand turned his back while I peed, and to be honest it didn’t feel that weird. He’d seen all of me, and I loved it when he took me to the sink and gently soaped my hands and dried them. He got me settled back in bed with the pillows fluffed, gave me my insulin, and then promised he would be back in a moment.
He came back with a tray loaded with avocado toast on rye, plain yogurt with blueberries in a smiley face, and coffee that smelled wonderful.
I sniffed, then legit started crying.
It wrecked me. I didn’t even try to hide it. The second he set the tray down, the tears just started and I couldn’t stop them. I wanted to. I wanted to smile and say thank you and tell him it was the best birthday ever, but all I could do was sit there in his stupid soft t-shirt he must have put on me last night and cry like a little kid who’d ruined everything.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tease. Just braced a warm hand on my back, thumb moving in slow, patient circles, like he’d already known I was going to break.
“Hey.” His voice was so soft I could barely hear it. “You’re allowed to cry, princess. You had a hell of a day yesterday.”
I made a noise, ugly and wet, and tried to wipe my face. It didn’t help. The tears just kept coming. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m really, really sorry. I messed up. I was supposed to listen, and I didn’t, and now it’s all…bad again.”
I stared at the food. My stomach twisted. He’d made me birthday breakfast and all I could do was cry.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, voice low, thumb wiping at my cheeks before I could get my hands up. “None of that. It’s your job to be spoiled today.”
“No,” I burst out, hating myself. “I’ve ruined everything.”
He looked at me, all the way through, and I think that was the worst part—I could see how much he cared, and it still wasn’tenough to stop the shame burning through me. It was spoiled. My first proper birthday in years and it was ruined.
I cried even harder. He just waited, not impatient, just…steady. Like a mountain nobody could move.
“You think you ruined your birthday?” The question was soft. Not a hint of judgment.
My throat closed up. “I just…can’t seem to get it right,” I muttered. “You look after me all the time and I promised I’d listen, but I didn’t. I didn’t mean to not listen, but I never get it right, and I just want…” Words knotted up. I gave up.
Walker’s hand landed on my knee. Calm, warm, impossible to move if he didn’t want you to.
“I think,” he said, voice so low it nearly rumbled. “Naughty Little girls need to be spanked, and then they know afterwards they’re forgiven.”
I stared at him. Tears on my cheeks. Couldn’t find words. Spanked? But then I was forgiven? It seemed so simple.
