Page 69 of Wedge

“You didn’t stop her.”

“You’re right. I know. I’m sorry.” No defensiveness in it, no argument, just simple, open regret. “You’re right. I wasn’t fast enough. I knew she was here, and I let my guard down. That’s on me. Not you.”

I finally look up at him, and his eyes are red-rimmed too, like he’s been crying in the hallway this whole time, waiting.

“You yelled,” I whisper.

“God, I should not have yelled,” he says, no excuses. “I promised. I’m sorry. That’s the worst thing I could’ve done, isn’t it?”

I nod. Stupid brain.

“No,” he says. “Smart brain. Protecting you.”

I guess I said that out loud, too. “I shoulda used the word.”

“You unlocked the door. That’s enough.” He huffs a breath. “I was scared, too. Afraid you’d disappeared, and I’d never find you. Or…” he swallows, “Worse.”

“You said you loved me,” I whisper.

“I did. I do. I meant it. God, I love you.” He brings my hand up slow, presses his lips to my knuckles, so careful, so light. Lips I love.

“I’ve been sitting on that for a while now, if I’m honest. Didn’t want to mess up your game. Terrible timing to blurt it out through a bathroom door after round two, but I’m not taking it back.”

“I love you, too,” I say, and the words come out broken but true, and he makes a whimpering sound, like something giving way inside him, forehead dropping gently to our joined hands.

“Can I hold you now?” Stephen asks. “However you need. Just tell me. God, I want to hold you. So bad. Come here? Please?” The list again, but a plea this time, not a demand. His breath catches again, eyes filling, and he lets the tears fall. Those beautiful, warm, steady brown eyes, swimming in tears.

I move finally, closing the last of the distance myself, crawling into his lap, and he wraps around me slow and careful, arms loose enough that I could leave anytime, tight enough that I know I won’t want to.

“Tight,” I say, and he understands right away, wrapping me up, arms around me. Strong arms. Holding me. Hands on me. Heavy. Strong. Protected. He doesn’t say anything else for a long time, just holds me on the bathroom floor, rocking gently, murmuring nothing words against my hair, until my shaking finally stops. I sniffle against his chest, and I know I’m smearing his skin. His hand presses against my head, holding me to him, and I give in and rub my face against him.

His stomach growls and I huff, but he doesn’t move.

“You didn’t get to eat,” I say against his chest.

“It can wait,” he replies, kissing the top of my head. “I need you more than food.” I tilt my face up to meet his. His eyes meet mine. He waits.

“Kiss?” I ask.

His kiss is so soft, lips pressing against mine gently but firmly. He doesn’t try to open, and I don’t either. I need this right now, this reassuring, undemanding kiss. I pour my love into this kiss and I get it back. I snuggle back into his chest.

His stomach growls again.

“We need to feed you,” I say.

“I’m going to take us to the couch and order room service, okay?”

I nod against his chest, and he shuffles around until his feet are under him. I cling like a koala, and he holds me tight against him, wrapping my legs around his waist, then tucking a powerful arm under my ass like I weigh nothing, not close to one-sixty. I drape my arms around his neck and let him carry me.

He settles back on the couch, my knees by his hips and arm tight around my waist. The lamp is on low, and the curtains are open on the dark marsh. A few far-off lights are blinking out over the water. He grabs the hotel kiosk to order us some food. He doesn’t ask me what I want. He picks for us both.

When the room service guy taps on the door, he carries me to the door, letting the guy in, then heads back to the couch. He nuzzles the side of my head. I rest my temple on his shoulder. If the guy notices, I don’t know. Don’t care. I stay buried in his chest, his arms tight around me. I need him more than they do.

He puts plates on the couch next to us and feeds us. I eat when he tells me to, bites from a shared fork. We must eat enough because he eventually carries me to the bed and lays me down, then follows right in afterwards, no demands to brush my teeth or shower, just curling me into him, my head on his chest, legs tangled with his, his arm heavy and tight around me.

I try to sleep. Try to be still. He wiggles a hand down my briefs and wraps it around me. Safe.

“Thank you, Daddy.”