13. Bodie
Bodie
Henry might like to play all tough, but taking me into town is a nice move. He could have told me to park my ass at the safehouse and wait for him to return, but he didn’t—and I’m glad.
“Cool beans,” I say, stepping into the general store, almost feeling like this is a normal day and I don’t have a crazed ex who happens to be a ruthless criminal chasing after me…
The bell above the door jingles as we step inside the store, a cozy, cluttered place that smells like fresh coffee, old books, and a hint of cinnamon from some candle burning somewhere.
“Cute,” Henry says, a note of wryness in his voice as he picks up on my earnest delight. “I’m talking about the store, by the way…”
“Sure, sure,” I giggle.
The wooden floor creaks under my sneakers, and I clutch Poot tighter, his walrus tusk poking my arm like he’s reminding me to stay cool.
The town’s quiet, just a sleepy strip of shops hugging the coastal road, and this store—The General Stop, according to the faded sign outside—feels like it’s been here forever, a mishmash of everything you could need…
Shelves are stuffed with canned goods, sodas, dog-eared paperbacks, gossip magazines, and, to my Little side’s delight, a whole corner of toys and stuffed animals.
Henry’s behind me, his boots heavy on the floor, his presence like a warm shadow that’s equal parts annoying and… safe .
Ugh, I hate how much I’m starting to like him being around.
Henry’s all Daddy mode, eyes scanning the store like he’s expecting Vince’s goons to pop out from behind the cereal boxes.
His black tee stretches over his shoulders, that scar above his eyebrow catching the light filtering through the dusty windows.
I try not to stare, but damn, Henry makes it hard.
“Alright, sweet,” Henry says, his voice low and gravelly, that Daddy edge making my stomach do a little flip. “Grab what you want—food, drinks, whatever. Keep it quick. And stay where I can see you. Okay?”
I roll my eyes, hugging Poot closer to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.
“Yes, sir ,” I say, all sass, saluting Henry for emphasis. “What, you think I’m gonna stage a jailbreak in the candy aisle?”
Henry’s lips twitch, almost a smirk, but his eyes stay sharp, flicking to the door, the windows, the old guy behind the counter who’s too busy reading a newspaper to care.
“Don’t test me, Little One,” Henry says, the nickname hitting me like a warm wave, soothing me. “You know what happens when you push.”
My butt tingles at the memory of my spankings under Henry’s hand, my cheeks burning as I remember calling him Daddy under the shower. I scowl to cover my blushes, stomping toward the food section, muttering, “Bossy jerk.”
But my Little side’s revving up, liking his rules way more than I want to admit.
I need to focus, grab some snacks, and not let Henry’s big, stupid, handsome face mess with my head.
The store’s a treasure trove, shelves packed with chips, candy bars, instant noodles, and a cooler full of sodas and juices.
It’s like going back in time, and I’m all there for it.
My stomach growls, still happy from the diner pancakes but ready for more. I snatch a bag of sour gummies and a grape soda—my favorite—and glance back at Henry. He’s by the counter now, talking low to the old guy, probably charming him with that gruff Daddy vibe.
I shake my head, trying to ignore how his arms look in that tight tee, and wander toward the toy corner, Poot still tucked under my arm.
The toy section is like a hug for my Little side.
There’s a bin of plastic dinosaurs, a stack of coloring books, and a whole shelf of stuffed animals—bears, bunnies, a tiger with a lopsided grin.
My heart does a little skip, and I can’t help but smile, my fingers brushing over a plush puppy’s ear.
I’ve always loved stuffies, ever since I was a kid clutching Poot to survive my parents’ fights or school bullies.
Stuffies are way more than toys—they’re my safe place, my safety blanket when the world gets too big, too scary. Poot’s been with me through every surf trip, every bad breakup, and now this whole Vince mess.
But seeing all these new stuffies, my Little side’s practically squealing, begging to add a friend to the crew…
“ Ooh , you’re all so cute and adorable,” I whisper, my eyes scanning back and forth.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure Henry’s still distracted.
He’s grabbing a couple of energy drinks from the cooler, his back to me—and his strong, sculpted ass looking so good I could eat it too.
I let myself linger, picking up a fluffy duck with a pair of tiny sunglasses perched on its beak. It’s ridiculous and perfect, and I can’t stop the giggle that slips out.
“Look at you, Mr. Cool Guy,” I whisper to the duck, giving its sunglasses a gentle tap. “You’re totally a Billy.”
“Find something you like?” Henry’s voice cuts through my bubble, and I jump, nearly dropping the duck.
Mr. Protective is right behind me, one eyebrow raised, that half-smirk making my cheeks flame.
How does he move so quietly for such a big guy?
“ Uh , just looking,” I mumble, shoving the duck back on the shelf like it’s radioactive.
My heart’s pounding, embarrassment flooding me.
I’m twenty-three, a surfer boy who’s dodged cartel goons, and here I am blushing over a stuffed duck.
Vince used to mock my Little side when he felt like it, calling my rompers and Poot “kid stuff” when he wasn’t pretending to be cool with it.
What if Henry thinks it’s dumb too? He seems like he’s down with Daddy and Little stuff, but I don’t know how deep it all runs for him.
Henry tilts his head, his dark eyes softening, no judgment in them.
“You don’t have to hide it, Bodie,” Henry says, his voice low, like we’re sharing a secret. “You love stuffies, don’t you? I saw how you hold onto Poot. It’s cute. Real cute.”
My jaw drops, and I clutch Poot tighter, my face so hot I’m sure it’s glowing.
“It’s not… I mean… it’s just a thing,” I stammer, my Little side squirming under his gaze. “I’m not a kid or anything.”
But my voice is small, and I can’t meet his eyes, too scared he’ll laugh or turn cold like Vince did. My heart is thumping though because Henry actually sounds like he might genuinely be cool with all this.
In that moment, Henry steps closer, his boots scuffing the floor, and picks up the duck with sunglasses. He turns it over in his big hands, inspecting it like it’s a mission briefing.
“This guy’s got style,” Henry says, a grin tugging at his lips. “Billy, huh ? Good name. Want him?”
I blink, my brain short-circuiting.
“You’re… not weirded out?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “I mean, I’m a grown-ass man, and I’m standing here going all gooey-eyed over a stuffed duck.”
Henry chuckles, the sound warm and rough, like a wave rolling in.
“Weirded out? Nah , sweet,” Henry chuckles. “I like that you’ve got this side to you. Makes you… you .” He holds out the duck, his eyes steady, no trace of mockery. “I’m buying. Pick Billy or another one, but you’re not leaving without a new friend.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, tears prickling my eyes.
It’s such a small thing, but it feels huge, like he’s seeing my Little side and not just accepting it but wanting it.
I take Billy from Henry, my fingers brushing his, and the contact sends a spark up my arm, making my heart skip.
“Okay,” I say, clutching the duck and Poot, my voice wobbly. “Billy’s cool.”
Henry nods, his grin widening.
“Good choice, Little One.” Henry smiles. That nickname again, wrapping around me like a blanket, and I can’t help but smile, my Little side glowing despite the fear still knotted in my gut.
I’m starting to trust Henry, and it’s terrifying.
Vince played nice at first too, and look where that got me.
But Henry’s different, right? He’s got to be.
We head to the counter, my arms full of Billy, Poot, gummies, and soda. Henry adds his energy drinks, a bag of jerky, and some sandwiches wrapped in plastic.
The old guy at the counter rings us up, barely looking up from his newspaper, and Henry pays with cash, quick and no fuss.
I watch him, the way he moves with purpose, always scanning, always ready.
Henry’s not just some guy playing hero—he’s built for this, and it makes me wonder what else he’s hiding. That story about Hicks, the chopper, the guilt… there’s more to Henry than he’s letting on, and it’s both comforting and scary as hell.
But I guess we all have secrets, right?
I should know.
Maybe in time Henry will let me in all the way?
As we step outside, the coastal air hits me, salty and cool, the sun dipping low over the ocean.
The street’s quiet, just a few locals wandering, no sign of black trucks or Vince’s goons. Henry’s carrying the bag of food, his other hand free, and as we walk toward Shred, parked under a crooked palm tree, his fingers brush mine…
OMG.
Did he just…
Are we about to…
It’s accidental, I think, but it sends a jolt through me, warm and electric, and before I know it, my hand’s slipping into his.
I freeze, my heart hammering, but Henry doesn’t pull away. His grip tightens, firm but gentle, his calloused palm grounding me.
We’re walking hand in hand, Billy and Poot tucked under my other arm, and my Little side’s practically dancing, a surge of excitement bubbling up.
It’s like I’m a kid again, safe with someone big and strong, but there’s something else too—a spark that’s not just Little, but grown-up Bodie, noticing how his hand feels like it was made to hold mine.
“Easy, Bodie,” Henry says, glancing down at me, his voice teasing but warm. “Don’t go getting any ideas. We’re just walking to the van.”
I stick out my tongue, my sass kicking in to hide the butterflies in my stomach.
“Whatever, Bossy,” I say, but I don’t let go, and neither does he.
My cheeks are burning, and I focus on the pavement, the crunch of our steps, the distant crash of waves.
This feels… good. Too good.
And that scares me, because the last time I felt like this, it was with Vince, and he turned my world into a nightmare.
But Henry’s not Vince.
Henry bought me Billy, listened to my Little side without a hint of judgment, and he’s risking his neck to keep me safe.
My fingers tighten around his, and I steal a glance at him, his jaw set, eyes scanning the street. Henry’s a wall between me and the world, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.
We reach Shred, and Henry lets go to open the passenger door for me, his hand lingering near my back as I climb in.
I settle Billy and Poot on my lap, the new stuffy’s sunglasses glinting in the fading light, and I can’t stop smiling.
“Thanks for Billy,” I say, my voice soft, almost shy. “It means a lot.”
Henry grunts, sliding into the driver’s seat, but his eyes soften.
“Anytime, boy,” Henry says, starting the engine with a cough. “Now let’s get back to the shack before you eat all those gummies.”
I giggle, popping open the soda, the fizz tickling my nose.
As we pull onto the road, the ocean shimmering to our right, I clutch Billy and Poot, my heart a messy mix of trust and fear.
Vince’s still out there, his threats looping in my head, but with Henry’s hand brushing mine, his Daddy vibes wrapping around me, I feel a flicker of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, I can let him in a little more.
But what if I let him in too far and neither one of us wants to turn back…