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“What?” Tears streaming down her cheeks, MaryAnn jerked back, staring up at him as if he had, in fact, just admitted to being a giant blue alien. “What did you call yourself?”
“I said ‘What kind of Daddy would I be if I let anything happen to you?’”
“Don’t do that.” Fury flashed once more in her dark eyes, and he’d never been so fucking proud of anyone as he was in that moment watching her stand up for herself. “You’re not supposed to say that if—”
“If I don’t mean it,” he cut her off, hauling her back to him. Even though his heart was in his throat, he somehow managed to get the words out, words she needed to hear as badly as he needed to say them. “And I meant every fucking word, baby. I want to be your Daddy, MaryAnn. If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Of course, I’ll have you. What the hell kind of question is that?”
“One we probably shouldn’t be discussing over a dead body. Come on, let’s get you downstairs. Cops and paramedics should be here any second.”
But instead of allowing him to guide her out of the room, MaryAnn turned and did something so out of character it had Dean’s mouth hanging open: she spit right on Nathaniel Cooke’s face.
“Fuck you, Nate.”
He was more than happy to let the language slide this once. Grinning widely, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “That’s my girl. Come on, baby. There’s nothing left for you here.”
* * *
The panic didn’t comeuntil much later. Either due to the adrenaline rush of what she’d been through or just sheer force of will, she managed to hold her shit together through a ridiculously thorough exam by the paramedics, dozens of police interviews, and a bear hug from Bryant so tight and so long she’d nearly passed out from lack of oxygen.
“Thank you,” he’d whispered, his voice thick with tears. “I know Dean is going to have your hide for sneaking off without him, but thank you for saving her. You’re the bravest fucking person I know.”
Since ‘brave’ wasn’t exactly an adjective she’d had applied to her all that often, his words had helped hold her together through the completely silent ride back to Dean’s house. Apparently, he’d arranged to have the SUV she’d ‘borrowed’ returned to his house at a later date, and the look he’d given her when she’d offered to drive it back herself had been fierce enough to keep her from mentioning it again.
He hadn’t even bothered to ask if she wanted to go back to her apartment, but she didn’t care. The thought of being away from him for even a second was more than she could bear just then. It had been bad enough being separated from him during their interviews or debriefings or whatever they were called. She was certain she’d have to return home eventually, but for now she just wanted Dean.
She just wanted her Daddy.
It wasn’t until they stepped back inside his home and she saw his bag still sitting in the entryway that the panic set in. Where it usually came on slowly, like a boa constrictor wrapping itself around her with practiced ease, now it slammed into with all the force and suddenness of a freight train.
Gripping Dean’s arm, she gasped for air, doing her damndest to force it past the sudden pressure in her chest.
“Baby, look at me.” Dean’s voice sounded muffled, almost like they were underwater. He moved in front of her, instantly pulling her focus to his face. “Deep breath for Daddy.”
She watched, as if from a distance, as he inhaled through his nose. The tightness in her chest still hadn’t eased, but she copied him almost instinctively, breathing in and holding what little air she managed to get into her lungs captive until he instructed her to breathe out.
“Good girl.” The words were a bit clearer now, her heartbeat a fraction slower. “Again. Deep breath in and hold.”
With each breath in, the pressure in her chest eased. Until, finally, she could breathe somewhat normally and it no longer felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest.
“That’s my good girl. Couch or bed?”
Considering her knees felt like water, climbing the stairs didn’t seem like the best option at the moment. “Couch.”
Still holding her arms tight, he guided her into the living room to the couch, where she dropped down, grateful her legs were no longer responsible for holding her upright.
And now that the panic had receded, humiliation came rushing in to fill the void. “I’m sorry. That just kind of hit me out of nowhere.”
“What’s Rule Number Two, little girl?”
Shit. Whatwasrule two? “Ummm…”
“You only apologize when you’ve done something wrong,” Dean provided, his voice softening just a fraction. “We have plenty to discuss when you’re feeling up to it, but you do not owe me an apology for having a panic attack after an incredibly stressful day. To be honest, I was more worried by how calm you were up until now. I was seriously considering taking you to the hospital to be treated for shock.”
“A little surprised you didn’t,” she said with a strangled laugh.
“Trust me, it’s still on the table. Are you good to sit here while I whip us up something to eat, or do you want to come with me?”
