Chapter thirteen
Blake
I was desperate. Holly hadn’t even unpacked the rest of the toys and I had a ton more presents hidden for her to open tomorrow. I didn’t know what to do. She’d gone back to being a mouse. As soon as we were through Christmas, I was going to get her someone to talk to. In fact my hand hovered over my phone and I nearly slapped myself. Duke. Duke Cartwright had served with me, followed me out two years after I had to leave and turned up looking for a job. I’d hired him on the spot.
Duke was a dominant, but the important thing was I’d met Gemma his wife, and I knew she was a Little. I only knew because I’d gone round to their house to drop off some plans about six months after I’d split with Amanda and she’d answered the door because he was in the bathroom.
She’d been holding a bear and sucking her thumb. Duke came out and scolded her for answering the door, but she’d said she knew it was safe because it was Daddy Blake.
Which hit me straight in the heart.
Gemma was a lawyer, but on a night and weekends she took off her power suit and put on a onesie. Duke was very protective of her, but when I remained gentle with her, he invited me in and we talked. It took me about three minutes to realize I wanted the same. I didn’t want to go to a club, but the thought of a woman calling me Daddy and letting me care for her was what I wanted with a passion that scared me.
I called Duke and explained what was happening, and we were invited around for coffee.
I barely had time to worry about how Holly would handle it before we pulled up outside Duke’s place. I’d told her we were going out, and she hadn’t asked questions. She just curled in on herself in the passenger seat, blanket over her knees like armor. Banjo had been relegated to the room she’d slept in, and Holly hadn’t been near him since yesterday.
Which if that didn’t ring alarm bells I didn’t know what did.
The drive was silent. Not tense, just quiet. She stared at the window, hands twisting in her lap, and I could see the way her foot bounced, heel tapping the floor like she was counting down the minutes until she could disappear again.
I reached over, slow, and squeezed her hand but eyes fixed on the mailbox as we parked. Her voice was so small I almost missed it. “I’m not good with new people.”
I killed the engine and got out first, letting Biscuit hop down before coming around to her side. She hesitated, then let me help her out, and at the last minute leaving the blanket in the truck.
Duke’s house was warm even from the outside. Light in every window, wreath on the door, smoke curling up from the chimney. I knocked once, and the door swung open.
Gemma answered, barefoot in a pink onesie covered in cartoon sheep. Her hair was in two plaits, face scrubbed clean, and the only makeup was a dusting of glitter on her cheeks. She smiled wide, and her eyes softened instantly.
“Hi!” Gemma’s voice was bright, but not too much. She glanced at me, then at Holly, and just waited.
I saw Holly’s jaw drop just before Duke came up behind her, towering, broad, but relaxed. “Blake, Holly, come in.” He stepped aside, ushering us into the warmth. Inside, the place smelled like cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee. There were toys around, but not everywhere. Just little touches—a bear on the sofa, a coloring book on the table, a wooden puzzle half-finished beside a mug of cocoa.
Gemma waved us to the living room. “I made snacks. You can sit here with me.” She flopped cross-legged onto the rug, not a care in the world, then looked at Holly. “Do you want a blanket? I have more. Cocoa or juice?”
Holly’s eyes went wide, but not scared. More like she didn’t know what to do with being asked.
Duke and I grabbed coffee and Duke nodded to the kitchen table, far away enough to give them the illusion of privacy, but close enough so I could watch Holly in case she got overwhelmed. Duke handed me a colorful beaker of juice, and I knew it was for Holly. “Holly, there’s some juice here if you’re thirsty.” Holly gazed at me in shock, but was distracted when Gemma pulled a tray of cookies closer and patted the floor beside her. I beat a retreat to the kitchen with Duke. Biscuit curled up at her feet on guard duty, tail thumping once, then going still.
Holly
I perched on the edge of the rug, knees drawn up under my chin, trying not to stare. The onesie Gemma wore was adorable. It had tiny cartoon sheep all over it, and Gemma’s hair was in plaits with pink bands. She looked happy. Not embarrassed or hiding, just herself. I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone look like that.
She grinned and patted the space beside her. “You can sit here, if you want. It’s softer.” She had a bear tucked under one arm and three cookies lined up in a row, like she was deciding which to eat next.
I sat, careful not to spill the juice Blake had put in my hand. It was sweet and cold, and the cup was pink with glitter stuck to the side. I stared at it, turning it over, then tried to hold it the way Gemma did.
She must’ve noticed, because she smiled again. “It’s easier if you use both hands.”
I did, and it was better. “Thank you,” I whispered. My voice sounded weird. Small.
Gemma nodded, then took a bite of her cookie. She chewed, thinking, then tilted her head. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want. Sometimes it’s nice just to be quiet.”
I nodded. Biscuit flopped down beside us, chin on my foot. I stroked his fur. I could feel the heat of the fire behind me, and the coffee smell drifted from the kitchen where Blake and Duke were talking. It was peaceful.
Gemma finished her cookie and licked the crumbs from her fingers. “Do you like cookies? Or maybe you like coloring better?” She pushed a coloring book closer. It was already half-finished, pretty, neat, with bright colors inside the lines.
I stared at the page, heart thumping. “I like coloring. But I’m not good at it.”
She giggled. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to be good. You just have to like it.” She picked up a green sparkly crayon and offered it to me. “Here. This one’s my favorite.”
I took it, fingers shaking, and tried to color a patch of grass on the page. Gemma watched, then smiled, like it was the best thing she’d ever seen.
We sat like that a while. She colored and I colored, and Biscuit sighed in his sleep, and the men’s voices rumbled softly from the other room.
After a bit, Gemma asked, “You know what I do for work?”
I shook my head.
She grinned. “I’m a lawyer. I work in court all day, in suits and heels and stuffy shirts. Sometimes I have to talk in front of a judge for hours.”
I blinked. She was so Little right now, I couldn’t picture her in a suit. “You… You can be both?”
Her smile went soft. “Oh, yes. That’s the best part. You get to be whatever you need. Sometimes I’m big, and sometimes, when it’s safe, I’m Little. It took me forever to figure that out.” Gemma smiled, soft and sad. “I thought I had to pick. Either be good at my job, or be this.” She plucked at her onesie, then glanced at me with a kind of hope that seemed too bright for the room. “But it’s not true. You get to have both. You get to have everything you need, if you let yourself.”
That made my eyes sting. I looked down at the coloring page, but the green crayon blurred. I tried to imagine being brave enough to want anything. I’d barely learned how to not be afraid.
Gemma nudged the coloring book closer. “You ever wear pajamas in the daytime?”
I shook my head. I didn’t even own pajamas before. My mother said they made you lazy. I had a scratchy nightdress I hated.
She grinned, big and warm. “Well, you should. You should have a pair with kittens on, or rainbows, or whatever makes you happy. I promise, the world won’t end if you try.”
I wanted to tell her it was impossible. That I’d tried so hard to be normal, to be grown-up, and I’d failed. But the words wouldn’t come. I just traced the edge of the paper, wishing I could disappear into the bright colors.
Gemma must’ve understood, because she didn’t push. She just started coloring again, humming under her breath. It was gentle. Silly. It made me feel less alone. Even Biscuit seemed calmer, his head heavy on my ankle like a weighted blanket.
After a while, I whispered, “How did you know you were allowed to be like this?”
Gemma looked up, eyes bright. “I met Duke.” The words came out dreamy, but real. “He saw me. All of me. And he never made me feel stupid for needing comfort, or wanting to play, or being soft.” She hugged the bear to her chest. “He says I’m brave for letting myself be Little. Not broken. Not childish. Just me.” She hesitated. “I think he thought everything in his life would always be hard and that’s why he needed soft.”
I swallowed. But it made startling sense. “What if you mess it up?”
She giggled. “You can’t. If you do, you just try again. Duke says it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being honest.”
That made something twist in my chest. I could barely remember a time when being honest didn’t end with someone yelling, or worse. I stared at the juice cup and tried to imagine telling Blake what I really wanted. The idea made my hands shake.
Gemma reached over and patted my leg. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she whispered. “You start small. One thing. Like coloring. Or hugging a toy. Or wearing socks with puppies on them, even if it feels silly.”
I nodded. I liked the socks Blake had bought me. The ones with the little dogs. I’d been too embarrassed to wear them today.
Gemma’s grin widened, like she’d read my mind. “Sometimes, when the world is too much, Duke brings me cocoa and a blanket and I sit on his lap until I feel me again.” She ducked her head, a blush on her cheeks.
I desperately wanted to ask the real burning question but I could feel the heat climb my face just thinking about it. I glanced towards the kitchen and saw Blake sipping his coffee, but his steady blue eyes were fixed on me, so I dropped my gaze to the floor.
Gemma must have noticed something was wrong. “I know we’ve only just met, but I can tell we’re going to be friends,” she whispered, “and Daddy understands that sometimes I have to keep grown-up secrets.”
I glanced up at her. A lawyer? I bet she had a ton of secrets she had to keep. I wasn’t sure why I blurted it, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Is Duke just your daddy, or do you…do you have sex?”
Gemma giggled, but it wasn’t mocking. If anything, she looked relieved. “Oh, both! Definitely both.” She hugged her bear tighter and dropped her voice. “Sometimes I’m Little, and sometimes I’m big. Sometimes I’m both at once, and that’s the best.” Her cheeks went pink, but she didn’t look embarrassed. “Duke says it’s about what we want, not what anyone expects. If I want to cuddle and color, he loves that. If I want to be kissed, or more, he loves that too.”
I stared at her, heart thudding, and tried to imagine saying that out loud to Blake. The idea made me want to crawl under the rug, but Gemma just seemed so sure of herself.
She leaned in. “You don’t have to pick one or the other. Duke always says I’m prettiest when I’m happiest, and sometimes that’s when I’m Little, and sometimes it’s when I’m kissing him in the kitchen after work. Do you want that?”
I could feel my face burning. I squeezed the juice cup, wishing I could disappear. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I think I do. But what if I mess up? What if he wants someone else?”
Gemma’s eyes went soft. “He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t be here, right? Littles are special, but we’re also women. We get to be whatever we need. If Blake’s a real Daddy, he’ll want all of you. Not just the soft parts.” She tipped her head and considered me. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
I tried to breathe, but my chest felt too tight, but I found myself telling her about Amanda and the almost kiss.
She nodded. “The hardest thing a Daddy has to do is turn off their over-protective button, but as that’s one of the things I adore about my Daddy, I’m not sure he’d still be him without it.” She frowned. “Does that make sense?”
I nodded, because yeah it did.
“I want both,” I whispered.
She glanced back to the kitchen then back at me. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She wiggled her eyebrows and I giggled.
“I don’t know how to even start.”
Gemma shrugged like it was simple. “You just try. Wear the silly socks. Ask for cocoa. Tell him when you need a hug. And if you want to kiss him, you ask. That’s all. If he says yes, you get what you want. If he says no, he tells you why. That’s how it works with Daddies.”
I didn’t say anything. I just colored some more, letting the green crayon fill the lines, and tried to imagine being that brave. Gemma didn’t push. She just colored next to me, and every once in a while, she smiled, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
It was quiet for a while. I started to relax. Even the weird knot in my stomach felt less sharp.
Then Gemma nudged me with her shoulder. “You want to see my favorite thing?” she asked. Her voice was soft, like she was offering a present.
I nodded.
She darted up and came back a second later carrying a blanket, pale blue with clouds all over it, and a stuffed dog that looked like he’d seen better days. “This is Captain Snuffles. He’s the bravest.” She wrapped the blanket around both of us, then flopped down again. “Sometimes, when I’m sad, I hold him and Duke brings me cocoa, and we watch cartoons until I feel better. Sometimes I cry, and that’s fine too. Captain Snuffles always listens. Do you want to hold him?”
I nodded before I could stop myself, and almost cried when I thought of Banjo. He probably didn’t think I loved him anymore, and suddenly I wanted to go home. The stuffed dog was soft, his fur worn in patches, and Gemma tucked the blanket around my shoulders and scooted closer until we were side by side. The warmth was instant—a shield against everything prickly and sharp.
“You look good in blue,” she whispered. “And I bet you’d look cute in pink too. Or with sparkles. Or whatever makes you happy.”
I tried to imagine it, but it felt impossible. I barely knew what happy was supposed to look like. But I liked the way the blanket felt, and the way Captain Snuffles fit under my chin.
My eyes stung. I tried not to let it show, but she smiled at me like she already knew.
After a while, I whispered, “Do you ever get scared that he’ll get tired of it? That you’ll be too much?”
She shook her head, curls bouncing. “Nope. Sometimes I think it, but that’s just the old voices in my head. Duke always says, Littles are never too much. They’re just enough. And if someone doesn’t want all of you, they’re not your Daddy.”
I wanted to believe that. I wanted it so much it made my chest ache.
Gemma picked up a sparkly sticker and pressed it to my hand. “Here. For being brave.”
It was a tiny thing—a pink heart rimmed in glitter. But I stared at it for a long time, not sure what to say. “Thank you,” I managed.
“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied. “That’s what friends do.”
