Chapter fourteen
Blake
“Coffee?” I nodded my assent to Duke and tried to drag my eyes away from Holly. “How’s she doing?” I didn’t know how to start. Duke poured the coffee and slid it across, but I barely tasted it.
“She doesn’t want her bunny back,” I said finally. “She hasn’t touched any of the new toys I got her. She sits quiet, polite, but it’s like she’s afraid of slipping. If I ask if she wants to color or play, she just says she’s fine. She doesn’t even wear the socks I bought her, and her toes are freezing half the time.”
Duke didn’t laugh. He never did. He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, and waited. I hated how much I needed to talk about this.
“She told me she doesn’t want to be my Little,” I admitted. “She said she doesn’t need fixing.”
Duke nodded, not surprised. “That happen before or after we got her back?”
I exhaled. “After. She was crying and I tried to tell her I didn’t pity her, but she thinks the toys meant I didn’t see her as a woman. That I just wanted to fix her.”
Duke sipped his coffee, then shrugged. “You ever think maybe she believes she can’t have both? Most do. But she’s been told her whole life that needing comfort makes her weak. You don’t unlearn that overnight.”
“She’s embarrassed,” I said. “She looked at Amanda and thinks I want someone polished, confident. Not a girl who sleeps with a stuffed rabbit and hides behind a blanket.”
“She probably thinks you’ll get tired of it,” Duke said. “That’s what Gemma worried about, at first. That I’d get bored and want someone who didn’t need so much, when really it was me that needed her more.”
I met his gaze and understood. Guys like Duke came home and didn’t think they deserved anything soft. That their only worth was holding a gun, and when the war was over everyone just wanted to forget.
“I’ll never get tired of her,” I said quietly. “I just want her to be happy. Safe. I don’t care if she wants to color for the rest of her life, as long as she’s not scared anymore.”
Duke smiled, but it was sad. “She’ll believe you. Eventually, but she doesn’t think you want more. That it isn’t all about a rescue. But you gotta show her. Not just with toys and words. You gotta see her. All of her. Even when she’s angry, or sad, or whatever the hell else she is.”
I glanced over at Holly. She was on the rug next to Gemma, coloring. Gemma had wrapped her in a cloud blanket and she was clutching some ratty dog toy like it was the most valuable thing in the world.
“She looks happy,” I said. “At least for now.”
“Gemma’s showing her it’s okay to want things,” Duke said. “That’s the difference.”
I stared down at my coffee. “How do I get her to trust it? To trust me?”
Duke shrugged again. “You just keep showing up. Don’t flinch when she’s a mess. Don’t flinch when she’s not. You let her ask for what she wants, even if what she wants changes day to day.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I knew how. “Holly needs everything and then hates herself for it.”
Duke’s mouth twisted. “Sounds like you need her as much as she needs you.”
I snorted. “Its driving me insane.”
Duke grunted, then lowered his voice. “Look, if you ever bring this up I’ll deny ever opening my mouth, change jobs and probably move to a new country—”
I shot him an amused smile. “Yes, Sir.”
“Gemma got hung up a lot about sex.”
I gaped. If I’d ever had to guess things my old sergeant could have ever have said to me, sex talk would never have made the list. I felt like I was eleven again and I’d messed the sheets up waking up from a wet dream, and dad had caught me trying to sponge them in the bathroom. Not that Dad wasn’t totally cool, but I’d still wanted to curl up and die.
I thought about what Duke was saying and told him about the kiss. “There was no way I could have gone there even if she makes me wanna come in my pants like some teenager,” I finished, ruefully.
“And does she know that?” Duke asked, “or was it just another rejection to add to her long list?”
I stared at Duke. There was no other way to put it. “I panicked,” I admitted, “but I didn’t want her to think she owed me anything. Amanda made me feel like a fucking ATM. The last thing I wanted was to make Holly feel like she had to give me something just to keep me happy.”
Duke watched me, dead steady. “You ever told her that? Or just assumed she’d figure it out?”
I exhaled, then thought about it. “I’ve tried. But every time I get close, she looks at me like a kicked puppy. Like she’s waiting for the hammer to drop.” My throat went tight for a second. “She thinks if she screws up, I’ll reject her. Like everyone else has.”
“But didn’t you?”
I flushed hot and opened my mouth, the denial on my lips, but then I thought about both sides of Holly. My gaze drifted to Gemma. I’d seen her eviscerate a rapist in court until even his defense team gave up, but then I’d seen her like this. Was Holly struggling to combine what she wanted?
“How do you know what Gemma wants?”
Duke grunted again. “Wish I had a fuckin’ crystal ball, but it’s all about giving each other permission to screw up. I sometimes make the wrong call. She might change her mind. Sometimes she wants both.” He smiled to himself. “I’m a lucky bastard that doesn’t deserve her.”
I glanced toward the living room. Gemma had the blanket wrapped around Holly’s shoulders now. They were both coloring, heads nearly touching. I could see the way Holly clung to the edge of the rug, never quite relaxing, always half-ready to bolt.
“She’s scared you’ll let her down,” Duke said. “Or worse, that you’ll leave her the second she lets herself be anything but perfect. Not surprising from what I saw of the parents,”
It hurt to hear it, but he wasn’t wrong. “Is that why she’s trying to convince herself she thinks I only see her this way? Or worse, because I only want her this way, and the second she relaxes I’ll get bored?”
Duke just met my gaze and let me work it out.
“I don’t want her perfect,” I muttered. “I just want her.”
Duke’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “So tell her.”
“She won’t believe me.”
He shrugged. “You keep saying it till she does. And every time she gets scared, even tries to run, you bring her back. That’s the job, right?”
I nodded. It was the job. Even if it felt impossible.
Duke lowered his voice. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever been terrified of screwing this up?” He paused, looking down at his mug. “Gemma freaked out the first time I I spanked her. She cried for an hour. Said she felt like a child, and that I’d never see her as a woman again.” He looked up at me, eyes flat and honest. “But she wanted both. She wanted me to take care of her, but she also wanted to be wanted as a woman. You can do both. You just have to make sure she knows it’s not either-or.”
Heat rolled through me at the thought of Gemma over my knee and I tried to adjust myself unobtrusively. Duke smiled so I didn’t think I’d been successful, but he was decent enough not to call me out on it.
He was right. I just didn’t know how to say it without scaring Holly more.
“She’s never been allowed to want anything,” I said. “She doesn’t even know how.”
Duke nodded. “Then teach her. One thing at a time. No pressure. No expectations. You just show up.”
I thought of Holly, the way she’d looked when I’d brought Banjo to her at her parents’ house. That broken, desperate hope. The way she’d flinched from every soft word, like she couldn’t trust it. Like she was waiting for the real me to show up and pull the rug out from under her.
I stood up, because she was suddenly way too far away, and I wanted her home and in my arms where she belonged. Duke followed me back to the girls and I made our apologies and invited them both over to us after Christmas. Gemma clapped her hands excitedly. “You can show me what Santa brings you.”
I nodded my agreement even though Holly looked quite alarmed, and I knew exactly what I wanted to get her, even if it cost the earth to have it here today.
I’d already decided we were going to have a quiet afternoon. I had everything for dinner tomorrow and Holly had iced her cake yesterday. We watched movies in near total silence for a while until the delivery I’d been waiting for and spent a fortune on showed up. It was already gift wrapped and I sent Holly to the door to sign for it as it was addressed to her. I desperately wanted Holly to know she was allowed to be both things she wanted, and it was all I could think of to prove to her that I wanted that as well. That I wanted her.
The box was so light in her hands I thought it would float away. She stared at the wrapping, fingers trembling.
“Should I open it?” Her voice was barely there.
“Yeah, baby-girl. It’s for you. You can open it on the couch if you want.” I sat down and patted the space next to me.
She crossed the room, careful not to meet my eyes, and sat with her knees tucked up, blanket over her lap like a shield. Biscuit settled as close to her as he could get. She peeled at the tape, slow, like she expected it to bite.
The first box was pajamas. Flannel, baby-blue, with teddy bears and yellow hearts. She gasped, actually gasped, and pressed the fabric to her cheek. She looked up at me, eyes shining and almost afraid to hope. “They’re really soft.”
I nodded. “Thought you might like them. There’s another box, too.”
Her hands shook so bad she almost dropped the second box. This time, when the lid came off, she just stared.
It was black. Lace, silk, tiny pink bows. A babydoll. Sexy as hell, but not trashy. She touched the bow, then jerked her hand back like it burned.
For a second she didn’t say anything. I waited.
Finally, she whispered, “This is for me?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Both of them are. You get to be whoever you want, whenever you want.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “And I want every side of you. The sweet, soft, silly one, and the one who’s all grown up and knows what she wants from her man.”
She hugged the pajamas to her chest, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the black lace.
“You can try them on now, or later. Or not at all. I just wanted you to know there’s nothing about you I don’t want.” I reached over, gentle, and squeezed her hand. “If you’re ever ready for more I’ll be here.” But I had to add more. “When you kissed me the other night you have no idea how close you were to being pressed up against the door and taken right there and then.”
She stared at me with wide eyes.
“I panicked because I was terrified you thought you were obligated. This is my way of saying I want all of you. The woman, the Little…the amazing cookie maker.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at it.”
I let out a breath. “There’s no wrong way, Holly. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”
She nodded, fast, and I could see she was fighting tears. She blinked them away and managed a smile that just about killed me.
“I want to try the pajamas,” she whispered.
“Go for it.” I grinned, but didn’t push. “Bathroom’s all yours. I’ll tidy up here.”
She slipped away, clutching the pajamas and blanket both, and I let my head fall back against the couch. I was sweating. Actually sweating. I’d survived losing both my parents, two tours, and a near-death in a demolition, but buying pajamas for Holly made me feel like a kid on his first date.
Or what could have been my last.
Biscuit thumped his tail, watching the hallway.
When she came back, the world stopped.
The teddy pajamas were adorable. But the way she stood there, one hand tangled in her curls, face flushed and eyes shining, made her look beautiful. And even better, she was clutching Banjo.
For a second, I couldn’t even talk. I knew she’d been nervous, but the way she stood there, holding her arms, pajama bottoms too long for her and the shirt nearly down to her knees, eyes wide and lips trembling…fuck.
I patted the couch again, and this time she moved. Sat next to me, knees drawn up, toes peeking out from the hem. She stared at the floor.
“You look perfect,” I promised, because I meant it.
Her head jerked up. “I do?”
I nodded. “Yeah, baby-girl. You look adorable. But more than that, you look happy.” I watched the color climb higher in her cheeks. There was no way she could hide it, and she wasn’t even trying.
She hugged Banjo to her chest and let out this shaky breath, like she’d been waiting to be told it was okay. “They’re really soft. I’ve never had pajamas like this.”
I wanted to say a thousand things, but I kept it simple. “You deserve them. All the soft things. All the comfort.”
Her eyes went damp, but she blinked quick, refusing to let the tears fall. “Thank you, Blake.”
I tipped my head to one side. “Is that really what you want to call me?”
Her breath hitched and I knew she understood immediately.
“Thank you, Daddy.” I opened my arms and she flew into them.
“You never have to thank me for wanting to take care of you,” I promised, clutching her tight because I was never going to let her go.
“If you want to try the other one, later,” I kept my voice low, “the black one, you can. Or you can wear these forever. Either way, you’re perfect to me.”
She swallowed, and her fingers twisted in the pajama top. “Could I maybe have some cocoa?”
The question nearly broke me. I’d been waiting for her to ask for something. Anything.
“Of course,” I said, and got up before she could change her mind. “You want marshmallows?”
She nodded, fast, and I heard her giggle as Biscuit followed me into the kitchen and I quickly let him out. I made the cocoa extra sweet and added three big marshmallows on top before he came back. When I carried them through, she was curled up under the blanket, Banjo wedged under her chin. Biscuit sighed and hogged the fire.
She took the mug in both hands, careful, and sipped. Her whole body relaxed. I watched her for a minute, soaking in the sight of her safe and warm and finally letting herself enjoy something just for her.
After a while she eyed the unopened box with the dollhouse, then tipping her chin up as if she’d made a decision, she slid onto the floor and pulled the box close to her. She peeled the tape with both hands, lips pressed tight. I could see her shaking a little, but she kept going. When the lid came off, she just stared. The dollhouse was all pastel blue and pink with neat windows and tiny white shutters. She touched the outside of the box like she was afraid it would vanish, then glanced up at me, eyes shining.
“I might need help.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Of course, baby,” I said, and patted the rug. “Let’s open it together.”
She sat cross-legged, pajamas bunched at her knees, and pulled the whole thing out, spreading the pieces on the rug. Biscuit stirred, tail thumping, but didn’t get in the way. She lined up the tiny chairs and beds and just stared, like she’d never seen anything so perfect.
I didn’t rush her. I just watched as she opened every bag, shaking out the plastic bits, sorting them into piles. Every few seconds, she checked my face, maybe to see if I was bored or annoyed, but I just grinned at her and handed her the next thing she needed.
It took nearly an hour to set it up. She was careful, so careful, and every time she snapped a piece in place she smiled a little more. By the time she put the last chair at the kitchen table, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.
I leaned back against the couch. “You did a good job, sweetheart.”
She ducked her head, but I could tell she was proud. “It’s really pretty.”
“I like it,” I said honestly. “You can leave it out if you want.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. “Really? It’s not messy?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I like seeing your stuff around. Makes it feel like home.”
She went quiet, staring at the dollhouse. Her fingers hovered over the tiny bed, then she picked up one of the dolls and tucked it under the covers. She did the same for the rest, lining them up, making sure they were all cozy.
My chest hurt in a way I couldn’t explain. All that care, all that worry over something so small. Like if she could get it right here, maybe the rest would fall into place.
“You want to show me how it works?” I asked, hoping she’d say yes.
She nodded and scooted closer, pointing out every oom. “This one’s the kitchen. And rthat’s the bedroom. There’s even a bathtub.”
She glanced up, waiting to see if I’d laugh, but I just smiled. “Looks perfect.”
She smiled then, really smiled, and it was worth every penny.
Later, after she’d played a while, and after I’d made some sandwiches for both of us, she curled up on the couch next to me, still in her pajamas, and now with the socks I’d gotten her and solemnly put on. Banjo was tucked under her chin. The dollhouse sat on the coffee table, all set up. She’d even put one of the bears inside, like he lived there too.
I wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close, and she melted into me. Biscuit lay at our feet, snoring.
“You did good today,” I murmured. “I’m proud of you.”
After a while, she yawned and let her head fall onto my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer, and she didn’t even hesitate.
“Are you tired?” I whispered.
She nodded, but didn’t move. “Can Banjo sleep in your room too?”
“Banjo can sleep wherever you want, baby-girl.”
She squeezed my hand. I could feel her trembling, but it wasn’t fear. “Can I get ready for bed in your bedroom Daddy?”
“Of course,” I brushed a kiss on her lips. “I’ll take Biscuit out a last time and make sure we’re all locked up tight. Do you promise to ask if you need help?”
She nodded and practically skipped to the door, then paused. “Daddy?”
She could call me that a million times and it would never fail to stop my heart. “Yes, baby-girl?”
“Don’t forget to leave some cookies out for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph.”
Yep, stopped. I was gonna die of happiness. Biscuit might need to be trained in CPR.
