Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Isaac
I feel like I’ve stepped through a portal into a different dimension. The woman I’ve been in love with forever, who has never let me close to her—not in her adult or her Little headspace—is letting me fully Daddy her.
It’s possible she’s so frazzled from cracking her chin open that she’s not making clear decisions, but she seems lucid. Her eyes look okay. I don’t think she has a concussion or anything serious.
During the drive to urgent care, she leans into me in the back seat of the car, letting me hold the cloth to her chin while she grips my other hand so hard her fingers must hurt.
Spence drops us off at the entrance, looking concerned. He parks the car and brings me the keys while I’m still filling out paperwork at the desk. Amber remains dazed, holding my arm with one hand and the cloth against her chin with the other.
I know every single detail about my girl, so filling out the paperwork is easy. Convincing the nurse to let me go into the exam room with her takes a bit of sweet talking, but I manage.
The crazy thing is that all I keep thinking about is how fast I can get a ring on my girl’s finger and change her last name. I never want us to find ourselves in a situation like this again, where one of us is shut out because we aren’t family.
She’s been mine for two years. I told her so last night. In less than twenty-four hours, we’ve gone from a fake cordial arrangement, to Amber insisting I could never be anything more than her bodyguard, to her experimenting with a lifestyle she has insisted on ignoring until today, to her submitting to me so deeply that I’m concerned.
I’m grateful they don’t make us sit in the waiting room, partly because Amber is bleeding and needs attention but also because she’s in Little space and doesn’t realize it.
As soon as the nurse leaves us in an exam room, I lift Amber to sit on the table and tip her head back so she’s forced to look me in the eye. “Baby, I need you to take some breaths for me. You’re shaking.”
She stares at me, breathing shallowly. She might be in shock. I’m not sure why. She’s not injured that badly.
“It’s just a cut, Amber. The doctor will fix it in a jiffy. I promise.”
She nods. She hasn’t spoken since we arrived. Her eyes are wide. She’s in Little space. How the hell am I going to explain this to the doctor if she doesn’t snap out of it?
When the door opens, I turn my head around to see the doctor step into the room. I don’t want to move too far from Amber for fear she might fall off the table, plus she’s clutching my hand.
The doctor smiles, and I suddenly realize I know him. I don’t just know him. I know him from Surrender. Thank fuck.
He recognizes me at the same time. “Isaac.”
“Jace. Good to see you.” I glance at his name tag. I don’t know his last name. He’s just Jace at the club. “Dr. Kemmer. I didn’t know you were a doctor.”
He nods. “Yep.” He shifts his attention to Amber. “I heard someone is in need of some stitches.”
She bites into her bottom lip and nods slightly.
I look back at Jace. “I’d say the universe is working in our favor right now because I was just trying to imagine how I was going to explain to a random doctor why Amber is out of sorts. She was in Little space when she fell, and she seems unable to snap out of it.”
“Ah.” Jace steps close as I move slightly to the side. He strokes the top of her head. “Good thing you got the right ER doc today, Little one.”
Her hair is a mess because I did a piss-poor job of removing her pigtails and gathering it into one ponytail while we were in the car. She’s squeezing my hand even tighter.
Jace uses a penlight to look into her eyes. “What did she hit her chin on?”
“The edge of a dresser.”
“So, she didn’t bonk her head anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Her eyes look good. I don’t see signs of a concussion. She could be slightly in shock. If she was deep in Little space when she hit her chin, the experience would be more traumatic than if she were in a grownup mindset. I suspect once we get her stitched up and get some ibuprofen in her, a nap will help her feel more like her normal self—unless Little space is her norm.”
I shake my head. “Today was the first time she’s given it a try. It’s not her norm.”
Jace nods. “Then she’ll most likely be back to herself after a nap. But don’t rush her. Let her ease back when she’s ready. There’s no harm in coping with the booboo in Little space.”
Jace turns his attention back to Amber. “How about if you lie down for me so I can get a better look at your chin.”
Damn, he’s good. I’m so grateful that of all the doctors in this urgent care, he’s the one who stepped through the door.
Amber whimpers as I round to the other side of the exam table and help guide her onto her back. She squeezes her eyes closed as Jace gently eases the cloth from her face.
Jace maintains a steady, calm expression as he prods the cut. The blood has slowed, but it’s still oozing. “It’s a simple, straight cut. I think three stitches will do it. In a few months, no one will be able to notice.” He smiles at her warmly. “I’ll be right back with supplies.”
While he’s gone, I stroke the top of her head. She’s trembling. I wish I had a jacket for her. It’s kind of chilly in here. She’s freaking me out a bit. Amber may spend a lot of time ignoring me and hiding from me, but she’s not this quiet ordinarily.
“You’re okay, baby,” I whisper.
She gives me a slight nod, holding my gaze. That’s a good sign.
When I grab her hand, she flips hers over and squeezes mine again.
A nurse wheels in a tray of supplies, and Jace is back moments later. His bedside manner is the best I’ve ever seen. If only all doctors were also Daddy Doms.
“The only part that’s going to hurt is the needle I’m going to use to numb the area first. Can you be brave for me while I prick your chin, Amber?”
She whimpers. It’s not a noise she’s ever made. Nothing about this experience is normal for Amber. She winces when he injects the area but relaxes slightly afterward, and she never moves while Jace stitches her up. It’s over pretty fast.
“There,” he declares, “you’ll be right as rain in no time.” He shifts his attention to me as he helps her sit. “Bring her back in five days, and I’ll take out the stitches.”
“Thank you.” I shake his hand, and then he rattles off care instructions and gives me a printout telling me how to care for the wound.
I have Amber back in the SUV and buckled in the front seat in less than an hour. I hate that I can’t touch her, but I have to drive us home. There’s no telling when or if she might suddenly turn to me, snap out of the odd space she’s in, and tell me to fuck right off.
I hope she’s not embarrassed or furious when she realizes everything that transpired—starting with me barging into Cassandra’s playroom while Amber was in Little space and leading up to her squeezing the life out of my fingers in the urgent care.
I’d give anything for her to embrace this new side of herself and stop fighting me. I want nothing more than to hold her and stroke her cheek to make her feel better. I’ve touched her more in the last two hours than I have in two years. I’ve also seen more of her skin.
Today was my first time seeing my girl in a bra and panties. It wasn’t appropriate for me to react to her in a sexual way while her chin was dripping with blood, but I’m not dead. I saw. It’s not like I had no idea what she might look like naked. I’m aware of her curves. I’ve been living with her for over a year. I’ve seen her in tight sports shirts and leggings. But none of that compares to how fucking sexy she was in that pink bra-and-panty set.
I park in the garage under our building, help her out of the car, and lead her to the elevator. She doesn’t say a word then, nor when we enter the apartment, and still not when I guide her to her bedroom.
I never enter Amber’s bedroom. It’s her safe space where she can be alone. I’ve been in here twice in less than twenty-four hours. She doesn’t balk as I lead her to the bed and pull the covers back. She says nothing when I lift her by the hips and set her on the edge of the bed so I can take off her sneakers.
I look up at her while squatting in front of her. “Do you need to go potty before you lie down?”
She nods.
I stand and help her back to her feet before guiding her into the bathroom. It takes everything in me to back out of the room. “Yell if you need me, baby.” I pull the door almost closed.
My heart is in my hands. I wish all of this was our new normal. I wish I had the sort of relationship with my girl in which she wouldn’t flinch at me taking her to the toilet, pulling her pants down, and holding her steady while she pees.
We may never have that sort of relationship. I can’t predict that. But I’d love nothing more than for Amber to open the figurative door all the way and let me in. Even if we’ve had a breakthrough today and she opens the door a crack, I can’t expect her to suddenly take on a new personality overnight. She’s going to need time to think about this.
I hear the toilet flush and the sink running, and then she shuffles back into the room. Fuck, she’s Little. This side of herself she refused to experience until today is precious.
I lift her back onto the bed, help her lie back, and pull the covers up. She’s probably going to be too hot in her jeans, but there’s no way I’m going to suggest taking them off. We’re treading on thin ice here. I’m not taking risks.
I pat her shoulder. “I’m going to grab you some water. Be right back.” I hurry into the kitchen, wishing we had sippy cups. We don’t, of course. We don’t have a single thing in this apartment for a Little. I’ll fix that as soon as possible. If there’s even the slightest chance of Little Amber coming out again, I want to be prepared next time.
I do find a plastic cup with a lid and straw, though. That will have to do. I fill it with ice water and return to her bedroom. The doctor gave her ibuprofen already, but I’m betting she’s thirsty.
I sit on the edge of her bed, slide my hand under her neck, and help her lift up a bit, guiding the straw to her lips with my other hand.
She sips some of the water and drops back down onto the bed. “Thank you,” she finally whispers.
After setting the cup on the nightstand, I place one palm on the other side of her and lean over her. “Need anything else?”
She shakes her head. She’s all tucked in, but she’s still trembling.
When I stand, she licks her lips. “Where are you going?” she asks in her Little voice, which I’ve learned is at a slightly higher pitch than her adult voice.
My heart races. “I’ll be in the kitchen, Little one. I bet you’d like some homemade chicken soup for dinner…?” I smile at her.
She swallows. “Will you lie with me?” she murmurs.
And my heart leaps out of my chest. Fuck me. “Of course, baby.” I round to the other side of her bed, climb up, and crawl over to drop down on top of the covers. I settle my head on the pillow of my bent arm and place my other hand on her tummy. “Sleep, baby. I’m right here.”
She closes her eyes and snuggles closer to me. It takes a few minutes for her breathing to even out, but it does, and her body stops shaking as she becomes significantly more limp.
I stare at her for over an hour, watching her breathe, noticing the way her lips part and how her brow is much less furrowed in sleep. Her cheeks are pink. The band in her hair has slid so low that most of her thick hair is panned out on her pillow.
It’s the best hour of my life, and I pray to all that is holy that I get to experience more hours like this in the future.