17. Bodie
Bodie
“Maybe I could drive next time?” I ask. “You know, this being my van and all…”
I look across to Henry and can tell by the expression on his face that he’s not even entertaining the idea.
“ Hmmm . We’ll see,” Henry replies, doing his best to sound like he’s giving my question some serious consideration.
I giggle. It’s actually kind of nice to be permanently in the passenger seat along with Poot and Billy.
The morning sun’s high, painting the sleepy town in gold as Shred rumbles down the coastal road. Last night—wow… last night—was a whirlwind.
The body-to-body heat, his hands, his lips, his big Daddy dick… it’s got my head spinning, my Little side glowing, and my grown-up side terrified of how much I’m starting to trust him.
But after our talk, his promise of looking after me in all ways, I feel a little steadier, like maybe he’s not another Vince waiting to break me.
We’re back in town to grab more food and some magazines—Henry’s idea, saying I need something to keep my Little side busy besides sketching and stuffy surf comps.
It’s sweet, even if he’s still all bossy Daddy about it, scanning the street like a hawk as we park near The General Store.
The store’s familiar now, that cozy mix of coffee and cinnamon greeting us as the bell jingles.
I clutch Poot tighter, his tusk poking my arm, and stick close to Henry, his presence a warm shadow that’s equal parts annoying and safe.
“Alright, Little One,” Henry says, his voice low, that gravelly Daddy edge making my cheeks warm. “Food, magazines, in and out. Stay where I can see you, and no wandering off to the toy section this time.”
Henry raises an eyebrow, a half-smirk tugging his lips, and I roll my eyes, tossing my messy bun for emphasis.
“Yes, sir ,” I say, all sass, sticking out my tongue.
“What, you think I’m gonna stage a stuffy heist?
” But my giggle’s real, my Little side dancing at his teasing.
He chuckles, the sound rough and warm, and for a second, it’s just us, no Vince, no danger, just a Daddy and his Little on a normal errand.
The store’s quiet, just the old guy at the counter flipping through his newspaper and a couple of locals browsing.
I head to the magazine rack, my sneakers squeaking on the wooden floor, while Henry grabs a basket for food. The rack’s a treasure trove—gossip rags, surf mags, even some coloring books tucked in the back.
My Little side squeals, and I snatch a coloring book with ocean scenes, plus a surf magazine with a killer cover shot of a ten-footer.
“Score,” I mutter, tucking them under my arm with Poot and Billy.
I’m flipping through the surf mag, lost in a spread about Coral Beach, when a shadow falls across the page.
My skin prickles, that gut-deep feeling of being watched, and I glance up, casual-like, trying not to panic.
There’s a guy by the canned goods, maybe thirty, with a shaved head and a leather jacket that’s too heavy for the coastal heat. He’s tall, lean, with a jagged scar across his knuckles as he grabs a can of beans, his eyes casting around, like he’s looking for someone.
My breath catches.
I know him. Not his name, but his face—those cold, gray eyes, the way he holds himself like he’s ready to pounce.
I saw him at one of Vince’s parties, back when I thought they were just surf parties and nothing more. He was in the corner, talking low with Vince, his vibe all wrong, like a shark in a kiddie pool.
My heart thumps, and I clutch Poot so tight his tusk digs into my palm.
It can’t be a coincidence. Vince’s horrible men are here, just like Henry’s friend Cole warned.
I glance at Henry, who’s by the cooler grabbing sodas, his back to me but his posture alert, like he’s sensing something too. I want to run to him, but my feet feel glued to the floor, my Little side screaming to hide while my surfer boy side tells me to play it cool.
The creepy guy moves, slow and deliberate, toward the counter, his eyes sweeping the store—he hasn’t spotted me, but I’m terrified that he might.
My stomach twists, Vince’s threats echoing in my head: You’ll pay for running, babe. I force myself to breathe, to act normal, and shuffle toward Henry, my magazines and stuffies clutched like a lifeline.
“Henry,” I whisper, my voice shaky as I reach him, tugging his sleeve. “That guy… by the counter. I know him. From Vince’s parties. He’s one of his… people .”
Henry’s eyes snap to mine, then to the guy, his jaw tightening as he assesses. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t flinch, just nods, calm but sharp, like he’s been waiting for this.
“We haven’t been spotted,” Henry says, his voice low, barely audible. “But we need to move. Now. Leave the stuff.”
Henry takes the magazines and coloring book from my hands, setting them on a shelf, and grabs my wrist, firm but gentle, pulling me toward the door.
My heart’s pounding, fear clawing at me, but Henry’s grip grounds me, his Daddy side in full control.
We slip out, the bell jingling softly, and I keep my head down, my sneakers scuffing the pavement as we hurry to Shred, parked under the same crooked palm tree.
The street’s quiet, no black trucks, no other goons, but I feel exposed, like those gray eyes are still on me. Henry opens the passenger door, practically lifting me into the seat, and I cling to Poot and Billy, my hands shaking as he slides into the driver’s side.
Henry starts the engine, Shred coughing to life, and I scoot closer, pressing against his side, needing his warmth, his strength.
“Henry,” I say, my voice small, my heart pounding. “That guy… he was definitely at Vince’s condo, one of those parties with all the shady people. What if Vince sent him? What if he knows we’re here?”
My eyes burn, tears threatening, and I hate how scared I sound, how weak.
Henry’s hand finds mine, squeezing hard, his eyes scanning the street as he pulls out.
“You did good, Little One,” Henry says, his voice steady, that Daddy edge cutting through my panic. “You spotted him, you told me. We’re clear for now, and I’m not letting anyone get near you.” He glances at me, his dark eyes fierce but soft. “You’re safe with me, Bodie. I promise .”
I nod, swallowing hard, but the fear’s still there, tangled with something deeper, something I’ve been holding back. I clutch Billy’s sunglasses, my voice barely a whisper.
“Vince… he didn’t just threaten to find me,” I say, my throat tight.
“He said he’d expose me. My Little side.
Said he’d tell everyone—my surf crew, the comp organizers, anyone who’d listen—that I’m a freak.
That I’m not a real surfer, just a kid playing pretend with my stuffies and rompers.
” My voice cracks, tears spilling now, and I hide my face against Poot.
“He knew how much it’d hurt me… how much I need that part of me to feel safe.
He used it to keep me trapped. And I hate him for that. Even worse than what he’s doing now.”
Henry’s grip on my hand tightens, his jaw clenching so hard I can see the muscle twitch.
“Vince’s the lowest of the low,” Henry growls, his voice low and dangerous, like he’s ready to tear the man apart.
“He’s a coward who preys on what makes you special, Bodie.
He’ll pay for what he’s done to you, I swear it.
But he’s not touching you, not your Little side, not anything. You’re mine to protect now.”
Henry’s words hit like a wave, warm and fierce, and I feel it—the trust growing, deeper than before, like a knot in my chest unraveling.
I sniffle, wiping my eyes on Poot’s fur, and lean into Henry, his arm wrapping around me as he drives.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I whisper, the word slipping out again, soft and real, and I don’t blush this time. It feels right, like it belongs to him, and his low hum of approval makes my Little side glow despite the fear still buzzing in my veins.
“We’re heading back to the safehouse,” Henry says, his voice calmer now, but still firm, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to check for tails. “We’ll lay low, regroup. And we’re expecting guests later.”
I blink, sitting up a bit, curiosity cutting through my panic.
“Guests?” I ask, my voice still wobbly but intrigued. “Who? Cole? Someone else from your super-secret spy club?”
I tilt my head, clutching Billy, my Little side perking up at the mystery.
Henry chuckles, the sound rough but warm, and he ruffles my hair, his hand lingering.
“You’ll have to wait and see, babyboy,” Henry says, a teasing glint in his eyes. “No spoilers. But they’re good people, and they’re here to help. Now, buckle up and keep those stuffies close. We’ve got a safehouse to get to.”
I pout but my heart’s lighter, his teasing pulling me out of the dark.
“Bossypants strikes again,” I mutter, buckling my seatbelt, but I’m smiling, my fingers tracing Billy’s sunglasses as Shred rumbles down the road.
The ocean’s to our right, shimmering under the sun, and I focus on its rhythm, trying to let it calm me like it did last night on the waves.
But Vince’s threat—exposing my Little side—sits heavy, like a stone in my gut. I hate that I have to think about it all again. And I’m realizing that it left a mark on me that won’t be easy to shake off.
I’ve always been open about being a Little, at least with people I trust, but it’s my safe space, my anchor when the world’s too big. Vince knew that, used it to control me, and the thought of him twisting it, making it something to shame me, makes my skin crawl.
I glance at Henry, his profile strong, his scar catching the light, and I feel a flicker of hope. He didn’t flinch when I told him, didn’t judge. He called me special, promised to protect me, and that’s more than Vince ever did.
Before I know it, the safehouse comes into view, tucked behind dunes, its weathered walls blending with the beach. Henry pulls Shred under the tarp, killing the engine, and turns to me, his hand resting on my knee.
“You okay, Bodie?” Henry asks, his voice soft but serious, his dark eyes searching mine. “It’s okay, you can tell Daddy.”
I nod, clutching Poot and Billy, my voice small but honest.
“Yeah. Scared, but… better. Because of you, Daddy,” I meet his gaze, my Little side leaning into his strength, and his slow nod feels like a vow.
“Good boy,” Henry says, the words wrapping around me like a blanket, and I smile, my heart doing that stupid flip again.
Henry climbs out, coming around to open my door, and I hop down, his hand steadying me as we head inside. The shack’s cool, the ocean’s hum filtering through, and I set my stuffies on the couch, feeling a little more like myself.
“Who are these guests, though?” I ask, plopping onto the couch, kicking my legs. “Come on, Daddy, give me a hint!”
I bat my lashes, going full Little, hoping to crack his bossy shell.
Henry laughs, shaking his head as he locks the door, his boots heavy on the floor.
“Nice try, Little One,” he says, pointing at me, mock-stern. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now, help me check the windows. We’re locking this place down until they get here.”
I huff, but I’m grinning, his Daddy vibe pulling me along.
As we move through the shack, securing it, I steal glances at him—his focus, his strength, the way he makes me feel safe even with Vince’s goons circling.
That creepy guy in the store shook me, and Vince’s threat still stings, but Henry’s here, and for the first time, I’m starting to believe I can face this.
Maybe even face what’s growing between us, if I can be brave enough to let him in all the way.
But one question remains… who the hell are these supposed guests?