It’s hard to walk away, but I finally turn and stride toward my desk. My girl needs space to explore her physical surroundings and her emotional changes.
Chapter Thirteen
Autumn
* * *
For several minutes, I simply wander around this magical room, taking everything in. It’s overwhelming. Everything about Mace and this new reality I find myself in is overwhelming. When I add that to the fact I’m also dealing with a tremendous loss, it’s a wonder I’m able to remain upright.
I should be catatonic, perhaps curled up in a ball in the corner, rocking back and forth. But I’m strong. And I may be young, but I’ve had plenty of years to know my mind.
I don’t take his bossy, confident propositions lightly. It’s important that I consider my options here. He says he doesn’t care what age range I prefer, but flipping around from one to the next to try them out seems excessive.
My mind is not wishy-washy. I’ve been reading books on this subject and exploring my sexual responses for years. Maybe not every fantasy I have needs to be acted out, but a lot of them do.
And just like that, I’m a free spirit, ready and willing to give myself to a man. Two days ago, this wasn’t on my radar, but that’s because I only had googly eyes for one, and he wasn’t in Indianapolis. Now I’m in his home, in Seattle, where I’m apparently staying.
It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the thought of actually living here permanently. Granted, I just graduated from college and haven’t grown roots in Indiana. I’ve been taking my time, looking for the right job.
Or was some strange twist of fate keeping me from moving forward because I was meant to be here, with Mace, instead of living in my father’s house?
Taking a deep breath, I force the deep thoughts out of my head and aim for the bookshelf where I saw the art supplies. Coloring has always been cathartic to me. I find an adult-coloring book with intricate designs, grab the colored pencils, and head for the table and chairs.
In minutes, I’m lost in my picture. It’s relaxing to let myself focus on each tiny hole that needs to be filled in. One at a time.
I’m startled when I hear voices. When I look up, Blade and the woman who must be his Little girl are entering the room with Mace. I’m immediately intrigued because she’s dressed younger than me.
I’ve never interacted with anyone I knew was Little. This is a first, and I’m nervous.
Mace introduces us, “June, I’d like you to meet Autumn.”
I stand. Being polite is ingrained in me. My father often had military buddies over. I was always a good hostess, even from a young age.
June has brown hair that’s in pigtails behind her ears, and she’s wearing a pretty dress that looks appropriate for a Little who prefers to play at about five years old. But maybe that’s just her style.
The dress is navy and short. She has matching leggings and navy ballet slippers on. She’s very pretty and looks younger than thirty, but that could be because of how she’s dressed.
Blade is holding her hand, and he speaks first. “Good to see you, Autumn. And again, I’m so very sorry about your father. I promise my team will do everything in our power to catch whoever murdered him and see that justice is served.”
Justice… When he says that word in an odd way, I know he agrees with Mace. They are out for blood.
“Thank you,” I remember to say. I’d rather argue that they drop this charade entirely. A part of me would prefer to move on with my life. I don’t need Mace and Blade hunting down a murderer and erasing him from the Earth.
It’s not that I feel sympathetic toward the asshole. May he rot in hell. But I don’t want Mace taking risks for me. I just got him. I don’t want to lose him because he went off to hunt bad guys and got himself killed.
I know he thinks he’s invincible, but no one is.
June wiggles free of Blade’s grip and comes toward me. It sort of surprises me when she envelops me in a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
I get choked up as I return her hug. This feels nice, and it occurs to me that I don’t really have close girlfriends. If I were at home, dealing with my father’s death, I would be alone. I don’t know anyone my age well enough for them to come over and pay their respects.
How pitiful. It just sort of happened. For one thing, I lived at home while I went to college. All four years. My father encouraged me to move into the dorm my freshman year, but I didn’t want to.
My father and I have been each other’s person since I was young. We rarely had an argument. Living with him was easy. He didn’t treat me like a child when I was in college. He didn’t set curfews or lecture me about drugs or alcohol. He didn’t have to. Like he always told people, I’m an old soul. Partying never appealed to me. Drinking was never on my radar. Acting like a fool wasn’t, either.
How long have I been old? As long as I can remember. Is that why it appeals to me to be Little? Maybe.
When June steps back, she points toward the page I’ve been working on. “I love to color. Can I join you?”
