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Chapter Eight
After he’d put a shirt on her and braided her hair, Mr. Fox picked her up again. A girl could really get used to be carried around by a strong man all the time. But she shouldn’t. She was probably going to wake up any second and this would all be over. She’d be back in the trailer, Wade pounding on her door and calling her a whore and telling her it was her fault those guys had beaten her up. But for now, she’d nuzzle into the space between Mr. Fox’s neck and shoulder and enjoy.
He brought her downstairs and set her on the couch she’d seen him sitting on so many times, tucked a blanket around her, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. He’d done it before which had surprised but delighted her, and she wanted him to do it a million times again.
“I’m going to get you something to eat, I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t want to eat. She was too tired. And besides, her jaw throbbed and her stomach had finally stopped hurting from being empty. She knew it would start again but it seemed mean to call its attention to the fact there was no food in it. Her stomach disagreed, loudly, and when she heard Mr. Fox chuckle, she opened her eyes.
He had a really nice smile.
It was quiet and peaceful in this house, not like in hers where the TV was always blaring and someone was always yelling. It was nice but strange. She felt like she didn’t belong in such a nice, orderly place. Not with her loud voice and her too-red hair. At least she was freshly bathed so she wouldn’t feel dirty compared to how neat and clean everything was here. Mr. Fox was back in a few minutes, carrying a big bowl with steam rising out of it, and a spoon.
“I just texted Dr. Eric, he said some broth would be a good start. I hope you’re not a vegetarian because I only have chicken.”
Twyla didn’t want to admit she’d eat anything she could get her hands on no matter what it was, so she just shook her head. When Mr. Fox set the bowl on the table, she tried to sit up and free a hand from under the blanket even though…
Well, never mind.
But he surprised her by tutting at her and picking her up again, settling her in his lap.
“You’re exhausted and shaky. Let me feed you.”
Twyla swallowed hard because yes, yes, that’s what she wanted but she would never have asked for it.
“Okay,” she said, pretending to concede. The giving in wasn’t the hard part, the seeming not-too-eager was.
Mr. Fox spooned some of the broth out of the bowl and put it to her mouth, but it hurt her lip and made her flinch and spill.
“I’m making a mess, I’m sorry. I can do it myself.”
He tsked at her again and embarrassment for screwing up already crept over her until he looked her in the eyes and said, “Little girls don’t feed themselves in this house, do you understand?”
Little girls? She was small for a grown woman, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant. And if it wasn’t, then what exactly did he mean? If it meant getting carried and fed and spoiled, then yes, she wanted to be a little girl. Dr. Eric had called her that too, come to think of it. But she was kind of fuzzy and it seemed easier to agree. Especially since she wanted to.
“Yes?”
Mr. Fox nodded crisply, apparently pleased even though she didn’t really get it. “We’ll talk about it more when you’re feeling better. All you need to know right now is that I’m going to take care of you, provide everything you need. Including getting you properly fed and hydrated. I have something that might help, I’ll be back in a second. What do you say?”
What did she say? “Um, okay?”
“No, sweetheart. You need to be a polite little girl. Try again.”
There was a funny kind of warmth that spiraled through her insides when he called her little girl or sweetheart and she didn’t quite understand it. But maybe she didn’t have to, not yet. She could just enjoy it.
“Yes?”
“A little better. Who am I?”
“Yes, Mr. Fox?”
His mouth tightened as if he was trying not to laugh at her.
“I was thinking something else. I think you should call me Daddy.”
Oh.Oh. She liked that idea, very much. Even though she hurt and was so, so tired, it made her insides feel warm. Even though it was kind of wrong and…dirty almost, it felt comforting and nice and she never got to have nice things so she’d snatch this while she could.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Saying it out loud sent a shiver through her and Mr. Fox—Daddy—smiled at her, turning the shiver into something else. Not cold, not nervous. Just nice and cuddly. It made her want to hug him. Or sit in his lap. Be as close as she could get to him.
“Good girl.”
Twyla could’ve died from happiness right then, but she didn’t. Just snuggled deeper into her blanket while her daddy went to go get whatever it was he thought would help her.
