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Not kindness.

Not safety.

Every kindness he’s ever known came with a price tag. Every favor was a debt. Every gift was just something he’d have to repay later, with interest.

A film of tears glazes his eyes. “I can’t let you do that.” His voice is thin, frayed.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t pay you back.” He says it like it’s the only truth he knows. His throat works. “I guess… I could eventually.”

“No.”

“When I graduate—”

“No.”

“Daddy, please—”

“Kammie.”

He goes still. His breathing is shallow, uneven.

I reach out and cup his face. His skin is cool under my palms, damp at the temples. I tilt his head up until he has to look at me. “This is a gift.”

He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s bracing for a blow. “No.”

“Yes.”

“That’s too much for a gift.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone can go fuck themselves.”

A wet, choked sound escapes him—half laugh, half sob.

I run my thumbs under his eyes, catching the warmth before it falls. “You don’t owe me tuition.” His lips tremble. “You don’t owe me rent.” A tear rolls free. “You don’t owe me for food, or clothes, or that sewing machine Mathias bought, or the stupid amount of craft glitter I’m gonna be vacuuming out of my house until I die.”

His face collapses.

I pull him into me before the first real sob breaks loose. He collapses against my chest like something giving way—all sharp angles and shaking breath. His arms lock around my middle, holding on like I’m the only solid thing in the room.

I hold him tight. “There’s no bill coming, baby.”

He cries quietly into my shirt—not frantic anymore, just… full. Overwhelmed. I rub slow circles over his back, feeling each vertebra through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

I smile as an idea comes to mind.

“Now that I think about it, there is a way you can pay me back.”

His breath catches. “There is?”

I lean back and put both hands on his face, holding him where he can’t look away, can’t slip back into the old logic that ruled his life. “You can pay me back by being mine. That’s all I want. You understand me?”

His breath stalls in his chest, like the words are some kind of spell. I feel the tremble run through his jaw, under my fingertips. “That’s… that’s really all?”