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"Of course."
I squeeze my dump truck stress ball, then stare at the floor. "My father wasn’t like you at all growing up. He was an accountant, but he wasn’t even a cool accountant. He didn’t have a backbone, and though he was always very nice, he didn’t stick up for me or my family. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I think that’s what a man should do. Protect his kid. His partner. He needs to be a little rough around the edges, because he’ll be dealing with unsavory characters who want to hurt us."
Bryce frowns. "Oh, baby boy. Just because your father wasn’t as 'strong' as you think he should’ve been, doesn’t mean that he couldn’t protect you. Not at all, precious boy. I hope you’re not saying that."
I bury my face in Bryce’s chest, sniffling as I hold back my sobs. "I always thought that if a robber would’ve knocked on our door, my father would’ve bowed before him and told him to take everything in hopes that the robber would spare him. He wouldn’t have fought, wouldn’t have challenged him… to a duel. He was weak. It’s wrong of me to say these things, but it’s the truth. My mother had ten times the balls, but she didn’t really even have balls, she had ovaries."
Bryce kisses my left cheek. My tears smear on his lips, and then he moves his mouth to my right cheek to kiss those tears, too. The gesture is so simple yet powerful that I feel like he’s always been here in my life, keeping me safe, protecting me.
"Your father likely had other gifts and talents. Didn’t he?"
I sigh, my fingers finding purchase in Bryce’s button-down shirt. "He read a lot. Like a lot. He enjoyed books so much that he’d always prefer to be alone in his bedroom instead of speaking to me and my mother at the table."
Bryce shakes his head. "I’m sorry to hear that."
"I think he was an introvert." I sniffle. "But why have a family if you don't want to ever talk to your kid? What did I ever do to him?"
"Nothing, baby boy. That’s just the way your father is."
"I think it’s 'cuz I’m gay," I sob, now feeling a little more vulnerable. "I was puny, not a manly man at all. He would’ve paid me more attention if I’d been the captain of the football team. Instead, all I did was doodle dump trucks in coloring books and fantasize about bringing doughnuts to working guys."
Bryce nods intelligently. "Here’s the thing, boy. Your father also isn’t a manly man as you put it. He never would’ve been the captain of the football team, so there’s no reason he would’ve expected you to be. Your father simply sounds like an introvert. I’m sure he loves you in his own way."
"From a distance," I growl, then sigh because I can’t be mad at my father or anyone. "It is what it is. His lack of love for me made me stronger."
Bryce pats my head. "When I meet your parents, I’ll ask your father point-blank to spend a bit more time with you. How would you feel about that?"
My heart stops in my chest.
My eyes flit up, peering into Bryce’s coffee orbs. He has perfect eyes, and right now, the creamy specks seem to glisten and spark with lovingkindness.
How I’ve longed for a protector like Bryce, one who’s big and bold enough to keep danger far from me, but who’s also sensitive enough to stick up for me emotionally, too.
I squeeze Bryce’s right arm. "You’re not all meat and muscle. Are you?"
Bryce grins. "No, boy. I’m a sensitive man underneath my ox-like exterior. A man with an ooey gooey heart that is all yours."
I melt into Bryce. Fully and unconditionally, without reservation. I wish I would’ve met him the day I was old enough to have a Daddy of my own.
The fact that I’ve had to feel alone in the world for so long is a cruel trick of fate. Bryce has been here all along, waiting for me. (Well, except for when he kept turning me away.) The point is that all we both had to do was let the other in.
"I’m full of feels, Daddy." I rest my forehead on Bryce’s chest. "Feels in my heart."
Bryce rubs my heart, feeling it thump. "My hug bug is a baby bunny today, isn’t he?"
I nod, up and down. "Yes, Daddy. You’re my mother bunny."
"Daddy."
I start to tingle. "My Daddy bunny. Skip, skip, skip."
Bryce’s right hand moves between my legs. He felt my cock, then rubs me.
"Be a good boy and tell Daddy if you need to wet, precious bunny."
I try not to cry as I nod. "Not wearing my diapey."
In a flash, Bryce swings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I squeal with happiness, laughing as I pound his back with my itty-bitty fists, hitting him, my legs kicking out as he carries me to my special changing station.
