Page 60 of His Holy Chaos

"I know, sweet boy. Remember that when you think badly of yourself. You're precious to me and to her."

He nods against my chest, small and shaky, and I feel the fight go out of him.

"I'm scared that I forced you into this relationship by going after you until you got tired of running away."

I laugh, loud, but then realize it could come across as mean, so I soften my voice. "Boy, do you think anybody can force me to do anything? I only do what I want to do. I was after you as much as you were after me. Maybe not at first, but that's just because I was in denial about how much you were in my head."

He chuckles softly. "You do love denial," he jokes, even now. I chuckle too.

I keep my hand on the back of his head.

"Daddy?" he asks, and he looks much calmer now. I sigh in relief.

"I'm here."

"I got snot on your sweater."

"I know."

"It's the good one."

"I know that too. And I don't care."

He chuckles softly again.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks.

"You can tell me anything."

"I think…" He swallows. I hear it catch. "I think the reason it hit me so hard wasn't just the video. It was because this week has been the happiest I've ever been. And I got scared. Because the last time I was this happy, it ended. And I wasn't… I wasn't strong enough to survive the ending. Callum had to practically carry me for months. Alfie sat with me on the phone for hours, just listening to me breathe, because I couldn't talk, I couldn't do anything, I just… I lost all my friends in the club. Glynn and Pierce tried to get me out of the house, but I wouldn't go. Noa had to basically force-feed me, because I wouldn't eat…"

He stops. Breathes.

"I got scared that this would end too," he finishes. "And I wouldn't survive it a second time."

"Oh, sweetheart," I say, pulling him tighter. "I can't promise you it won't be hard," I say into his hair. It smells like my shampoo. He's been using my shampoo all week. "I can't promise you I'll always know the right thing to do. I get it wrong. I'll get it wrong with you. I'm rigid and controlling and I have a pathological need for order that borders on clinical, and you are the living embodiment of entropy, and there will be days when that collision is not romantic. It'll just be hard. But hard things are worth it."

He's listening.

"I can promise you this." I pull back enough to see his face. His eyes are still red, still swollen. "I will show up. Every single time. The way I show up for Angel. The way my mother shows up for me. The way you show up for Alfie and your friends. That's what I can give you," I continue. "Not perfection. Not a guarantee that it won't hurt. But presence. Consistency. The boring, relentless, unsexy discipline of being there. Day after day. Even when you send my blood pressure through the ceiling. Even when you teach my daughter pirate songs."

A laugh escapes him. He sighs, much more content than before. The storm is starting to pass.

After a beat of silence, he looks up at me.

"You don't deserve me. I'm a mess. I can't get over stuff. I'm too… too intense. You deserve peace."

"Are you trying to tell me what I deserve, brat?" I ask, and his eyebrows shoot up. "I will decide what I deserve. I don't want you saying bad things about my property. If I hear that again, we'll have problems. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," he whispers.

"Good boy. Also, I'm done with you punishing yourself. That's not your job. Do you understand? I'm the one who decides when you need punishment. Do you want to do my job for me?"

"No, Daddy," he says, and there are tears in his eyes again. I take his chin.

"Good. No more of that. If I tell you that you deserve every bit of what I give you, I want you to believe me. This is an order. If you don't believe me, you're calling me a liar. Do you think I'm a liar?"

"No, Daddy!" he exclaims, almost shocked I'd say that.