Saving Little Clark (Brave Daddies #4)

Chapter 28 Clark

The plan started off smoothly enough. I managed to slip into the girls' room undetected, planting the stink bomb and swapping out the shampoo without a hitch. Elijah ran interference like a champ, accidentally spilling flour down Becca's front and fawning over Kristen's hair until they forgot their own names.

All was going according to plan. Until I froze, one foot out the door. Turned slowly, incredulously, to see Alex army-crawling down the hall. A look of intense concentration on his face as he hummed the Mission Impossible theme at full volume.

"Alex!" I hissed, glaring daggers at his form. "Shut up! Are you trying to get us caught?"

He just grinned, wholly unrepentant. Picked up the tune again, even louder, as he ducked and rolled into the room.

I could only shake my head. Follow my ridiculous, lovable idiot of a best friend into the room, and pray his dramatics hadn't tipped our hand irrevocably.

Luckily, we managed to regroup without incident. Once Alex got the giggles out of his system and received a few well-placed elbows to the ribs, we were back on track.

With a few carefully placed comments and strategic spills, the trap was set. Elijah's innocent "Gee, Kristen, is it just me or does your hair smell kinda funky today?" Alex's elbow, Becca's pristine white blouse, a glass of accidentally dribbled cranberry juice.

We didn't have to wait long. Within minutes, Kristen was stomping off to the bathroom, face pinched with disgust as she muttered about updating her wardrobe with friends who had better motor control.

I caught Alex's eye over Elijah's head, a thrill zipping down my spine. This was it. The calm before the storm, the held breath before the final devastating blow.

And sure enough, not two minutes later, an unholy shriek rent the air. High and piercing, shot through with sheer, unadulterated horror.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, fighting to keep a straight face. Beside me, Alex was practically vibrating, lips pressed bloodless with the effort of holding back his mirth. Even Elijah looked to be fighting a smile, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief.

And then Kristen came barreling into the room, a towel clutched around her shoulders. Pale face standing out in stark contrast to the shocking blue of her dripping hair. The dye had taken brilliantly to her bleached locks, leaving them a vivid, electric shade of turquoise. It dripped in rivulets down her neck, staining her skin and towel alike.

Beside her, Becca gasped. Hands flying to her mouth, eyes bulging in their sockets. Then, into that yawning silence, a single sound rang out. High and reedy, quickly muffled against a shaking palm.

A giggle. And just like that, the floodgates opened. Alex lost it first, howling with unrestrained glee. Elijah was next, collapsing against me as he wheezed and hiccupped. I held out longest, shoulders quaking with the effort to hold it in.

But when Kristen spun to face us, I cracked. Folded like a house of cards, hanging off Alex as peals of laughter ripped from my throat.

This was just too good. I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. Let her see how it felt, to be made a fool in front of everyone.

But alas, our gloating proved to be a tactical error. Because in the next instant, a noxious cloud of stench rolled over us like a putrid fog bank. The stink bomb!

Coughing and hacking, eyes streaming, we stumbled back from the blast radius. Waved our hands in front of our faces, trying in vain to dispel the stink. Sweet baby Jesus. What ungodly alchemy had Alex wrought in that rotten egg scented hellbroth!

When the smoke finally cleared, it was to find Kristen clutching a familiar sequined handbag. The one that had, until about 30 seconds ago, housed a stink bomb just waiting to detonate.

For a moment, Kristen just stood there. Then, quick as a snake, her eyes cut to ours. Narrowed to ominous slits, glittering with rage.

"You," she hissed, jabbing a finger at Alex's chest. Then to me, to Elijah. Circling us like a shark scenting blood. "You did this. You horrible, awful little cretins!"

Alex, of course, just smirked. "Who, us? Aww c'mon, Krissy. What do you take us for, a bunch of petty pranksters?"

She snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "Don't you play dumb with me, you toad!"

Any second now, the Daddies would come running, demanding to know what in the seven hells was going on.

Time to put those acting chops to work. Widening my eyes, I put on my most affronted expression. Gasped loudly, clasping a hand to my chest like a scandalized dowager.

"Well I never!" I declared, laying it on thick. "We had nothing to do with whatever this is."

I gestured to her hair, her bag. Wrinkled my nose theatrically, as if just now noticing the stench. "We've been nothing but welcoming to you girls, and this is how you repay us? With baseless accusations?"

Elijah nodded fervently at my side, lower lip jutting in an exaggerated pout. "Yeah. It's Christmas Eve, we're supposed to be friends."

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Uncle Will came skidding into the room. Daddy, Oliver and Lance hot on his heels, all wearing matching expressions of concern. Concern quickly morphed to confusion as they took in the scene before them.

Alex leapt into action. Positioned himself in front of us like some kind of demented defense attorney, hands raised in supplication.

"Thank goodness you're here," he cried, face arranged into a mask of distress. " Something terrible has happened to poor Kristen, and she's gone absolutely batshit."

Kristen made an inarticulate sound of rage, lunging for him. But Uncle Will stepped smoothly into her path. Caught her by the shoulders, halting her.

"Woah there, Cupcake," he said mildly, raising a brow. "Let's all just take a deep breath, okay? I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this."

Alex clasped his hands beneath his chin. Fluttered his lashes, the picture of earnest sincerity.

"There is, Daddy. A totally logical reason. And that reason is ghosts."

Dead silence. I closed my eyes briefly. Took a long, fortifying breath through my nose.

Ghosts. He was going with fucking ghosts. Of course, he was. Honestly, I shouldn't even be surprised anymore.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to find Kristen gaping like a landed trout. Opening and closing her mouth, no sound emerging.

The Daddies just looked bemused. Uncle Will's brow was practically touching his hairline, a muscle ticking in Uncle Oliver's jaw as he visibly fought to keep a straight face.

Daddy was heading straight for me. Homing in like a heat-seeking missile, zeroing in on the weakest link with unerring accuracy. Dammit. I should've practiced my poker face more. He came to a stop in front of me, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Clark," Daddy said, low and measured. "Did you have something to do with her transformation?"

I swallowed hard. Darted a glance at Alex, silently begging for backup. But he just shot me a wide-eyed look, shaking his head minutely.

Ah, so that's how it was gonna be. Every man for himself, thrown to the wolves at the first sign of trouble. Some partners in crime they turned out to be.

But then Alex was stepping forward, pasting on a blinding smile.

"Now, Uncle Brody," he began. "I know what this looks like. But I promise you, there's a perfectly logical explanation."

Daddy raised a brow. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely." Alex nodded fervently, clasping his hands beneath his chin. "Ghosts. Vengeful spirits, to be specific. The kind that haunt bratty little girls who are mean to sweet, innocent boys. They manifest in the form of bad hair days and stinky handbags, you see. Classic ghostly shenanigans."

God, he was really going for it, wasn't he? Just digging that hole deeper and deeper, with no end in sight.

But incredibly, miraculously, it seemed to be working. Uncle Will was fighting back a smile, shoulders shaking with barely repressed laughter. Lance just looked pained, pinching the bridge of his nose like he could ward off the impending headache through sheer force of will.

Even Daddy's stern facade was starting to crack, a telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement.

For a single, shining moment, I thought we might actually pull this off. That Alex's patented brand of bullshit and bravado would see us through, leaving Kristen sputtering in impotent rage.

But Daddy knew me, inside and out. Could read me like a large-print book. And right now, he was reading me like the Sunday Times.

"Clark," he said again. "I want the truth, baby boy."

Looking up into those eyes, dark and fathomless with disappointed expectation, I couldn't do it. Not to him. Not to my daddy, my safe place. My harbor in every storm, even those of my own making.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "We did it, Daddy. We were just so mad, after everything they'd done. All the mean stunts they'd pulled, the names they'd called us. I just wanted to make them hurt, the way they'd hurt me. The way they'd hurt my friends, Daddy."

The tears were flowing freely now, hot and shameful on my cheeks. "Alex tried so hard to be their friend, to give them a chance, and they just threw it back in his face. I couldn't stand it. Not when he's so good, Daddy. The best boy I know."

A little hiccupping sob worked its way up my throat. "And I thought it would make me feel better, I guess. But it didn't. It didn't fix anything, it just made everything worse."

I risked a glance up at Daddy through my tears, expecting to find disappointment. But all I saw was understanding.

"Oh, my sweet boy," he breathed, a whole world of emotion in the endearment. "I know how much it hurts, seeing someone you love be treated that way. How it makes you want to lash out, make them hurt the way they've hurt you. But that's never the way. Because it drags you down into the mud right along with them, until you can't even recognize yourself anymore."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I choked out. "I never wanted to disappoint you."

"Hey now," Daddy chided, bringing his other hand up to frame my face. "You messed up. It makes you human, baby. Flawed and fallible, same as the rest of us. But I am disappointed in your behavior. I expected better of you, and we both know you're capable of it.”

I flinched, the words like a lash across my heart. But before I could pull away, wallow in my shame, Daddy leaned in close. Brushed his lips across mine.

"I love you," he said, simple and devastating. "That will never change, no matter how much you stumble. No matter how many times you fall or how far you have to climb to find your way back up."

With a ragged sob, I threw myself into his arms. "Thank you, Daddy. For loving me. For not giving up on me, even when I make it so hard sometimes."

Daddy huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. "Oh, baby boy. Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done. The simplest truth I've ever known."

"I'm ready," I told him, quiet but sure. "For whatever comes next, whatever punishment you decide. I trust you, Daddy. And I'll take my licks like a big boy, knowing it's no more than I deserve."

Daddy's face softened impossibly further, eyes going molten and sweet. "Oh, sweetheart. In this family, discipline isn't about making you feel bad, or trying to scare you into behaving. It's about teaching. To show you that actions have consequences, that the choices we make can ripple out and affect others in ways we never intended."

He led me away from the others and into our bedroom, where it was just the two of us.

"Come here a second, let Daddy hold you."

And so, I went. Let him gather me up, position me just so. Draped over his lap, facedown across the solid breadth of his thighs. It should've felt vulnerable. Shameful, even, baring my ass for correction.

The first swat, when it came, startled me more than anything. I yelped, a shock of heat blooming across my ass. But it was bearable. A low, simmering ache.

I tensed, squeezing my eyes shut. Daddy's palm rained down on my ass again in a rhythm, each spank stoking the building sting.

I kicked and squirmed, hot tears spilling down my ruddy cheeks. "Ow! I'll be good, I promise."

"Almost done." Daddy tipped me forward, targeting the sensitive undercurve where ass met thigh. I wailed as the final volley of swats scorched my sore sit-spots.

At last, it was over. I went limp, sobbing breathlessly into the bedspread. Daddy scooped me up and situated me on his lap, mindful of my smarting backside. He ran his fingers through my hair as I burrowed into his chest, dampening his shirt with my tears.

"Shh, you're okay. You did so well, my brave boy."

Shame sat heavy in my chest despite his soothing words. "I was really bad," I choked out. "Aren't you gonna send me away? You don't love me anymore!"

He jerked back as if I'd slapped him. "Clark! You stop that crazy talk right now." He tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. Hurt and sorrow swam in his eyes. "I love you. You're my boy, my heart. That will never change, no matter what."

I shuddered, clinging to him like a baby koala. "But I lied, and I was mean, and-"

"And you owned up to it. You apologized. You took your punishment like a champ. That's called learning and growing, kiddo." He thumbed away my tears, smiling ruefully.

He booped my nose playfully. "Besides, you're stuck with me, mister. I'm afraid you're not getting rid of this old Daddy that easily."

A wet giggle bubbled out of me. He always knew how to make me laugh, even when I felt rotten. He pressed a kiss to my lips before standing me up and leading me to the corner.

"Okay, buckaroo. Five minutes of quiet corner time to calm down and reflect, then we'll put this whole thing behind us."

I pouted but dutifully faced the wall, fidgeting and sniffling. Longest five minutes of my life. But Daddy was true to his word. The moment my time-out ended, he swept me up into a big bear hug and blew raspberries on my tummy until I shrieked with laughter. My ass was still tender, but my heart felt lighter than it had in days.

That night, he tucked me in with extra cuddles and kisses. I fell asleep secure in the knowledge that I was treasured, forgiven, and unconditionally loved.

The next morning, I awoke on Christmas nestled in my soft dinosaur jammies, the delicious aroma of cinnamon rolls and coffee wafting into the room. Excitement zinged through my veins as I bolted upright. It was here, the most magical day of the year.

I bounded over to Alex's bed and shook his shoulder. "Alex, wake up. It's Christmas!"

He mumbled blearily, pawing at his face like a sleepy kitten. I practically wiggled with impatience, bouncing on my heels. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he finally rolled out of bed and together we thundered down the stairs in a tangle of flailing limbs and unrestrained giggles.

My eyes widened to saucers as I tried to take in the transformed wonderland of a mansion. Shimmering lights twinkled from every banister, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. And the tree soared to the ceiling, every bough dripping with glittering ornaments and tinsel.

But best of all, the stockings bulged with untold treasures, each of our names spelled out in glittery fabric paint. I nearly tripped over my own two feet in my haste to reach them.

"Whoa there, baby bug." Daddy caught me by the armpits before I could faceplant, chuckling at my unfettered enthusiasm. "Merry Christmas to you too."

"Daddy, look," I crowed, pointing frantically at the mantel. "Santa really came."

Uncle Will strode into the room, decked in a truly hideous Christmas sweater and a Santa hat perched jauntily on his head. He held out his arms and Alex rocketed into them, nearly bowling him over.

"He sure did. You must've been very good boys this year!" Uncle Will playfully growled, tickling Alex's ribs until he thrashed and squealed with laughter.

Daddy plopped me on his lap and handed me my stocking. I dove in eagerly, unearthing tiny wooden dinosaurs and pretty polished stones, glittery stickers and Hershey's kisses. But when I reached the very bottom, my fingers brushed paper. I withdrew an envelope. I unsealed it and withdrew tickets.

"Daddy!" I wheezed. "A real dinosaur exhibit?"

Daddy beamed down at me, his entire face crinkling with a smile. "You bet, kiddo! Just you and me, a whole day of dino-sized adventures."

The rest of the morning passed in a flurry of torn paper, squeals of glee, and more hugs and kisses than I could count. But it was one moment in particular that really encapsulated the true spirit of Christmas.

"We come bearing gifts," Elijah announced grandly as he, Alex and I paraded into the kitchen later that afternoon. In my hands I clutched a messily wrapped package.

Kristen and Becca glanced up from their coloring, equal parts surprised and wary.

"We wanted to say we're sorry. For yesterday," I began haltingly. "It was really mean of us to play those pranks on you. Even if we were mad, it wasn't right."

Kristen nodded slowly, her expression softening from distrustful to something almost resembling touched. With careful fingers, she peeled back the crinkled candy cane paper to reveal a box of deluxe craft supplies. Fancy markers, gel pens, patterned washi tape, the works.

A slow smile dawned across her face, mirrored on Becca's. "Wow. This is really nice. Thank you."

Becca nodded. "And we're sorry too. For yesterday." Her nose wrinkled. "Truce?"

"Truce," we agreed in unison.

As if on cue, all five of us converged in a giant group hug, a tangle of pajama-clad limbs and hesitant grins. The hurts of yesterday melted like frost in the sun, replaced by the radiant warmth of new beginnings.

As long as I had my Daddy, my friends, my family - I knew it would always be a holiday worth celebrating.