6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Dion
I gave Emily some time alone to explore the house, busying myself with a few security updates to distract from the anxiety gnawing at my gut. After twenty minutes of silence, I decided to check on her.
"Emily?" I called, heading down the hallway. No answer.
I checked the first guest room—empty. The second, also empty. My bedroom door stood open, showing no sign of her. A flutter of panic rose in my chest until I noticed the door at the end of the hall was cracked open.
The Little room. My heart stuttered.
I'd forgotten to lock it after my last cleaning. All I'd done for months was just wash the bedding, wipe the counters, too pained to look at the room I'd created with such hope, only to keep it empty for years until the compound. Until Emily. Until I started buying things with exactly her in mind.
Exactly her.
I approached slowly, hearing soft movement from within. The door was ajar, and I gently pushed it open.
There she w as, sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet, surrounded by stuffed animals. In her hands was the oversized teddy bear I'd bought on a whim three years ago. Her fingers stroked his soft fur as she stared around the room with wide, wondering eyes.
The pastel walls. The child-themed furniture. The bookshelf filled with picture books and coloring supplies. The toy chest overflowing with carefully selected toys for a Little girl.
Emily looked up at me, her expression a complex mix of emotions—embarrassment, longing, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite name.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, clutching the bear tighter. "I shouldn't have... I was just exploring, and the door wasn't locked and I—"
"It's okay," I said softly, stepping into the room. "I don't mind."
She looked around again, her eyes lingering on the canopy bed with its mountain of pillows and stuffed animals. "Is this... do you have a...?"
"No," I answered her unfinished question. "I don't have a child, and this room was never meant for one."
"But this room..."
I moved farther in, lowering myself to sit on the floor near her, but not too close. "I made it a long time ago. For someone who never came. Someone I was never lucky enough to find."
Emily's fingers tightened around the bear's paw. "You're a Daddy Dom," she said quietly. Not a question, but a realization.
"Yes." No point denying it now. "I am."
She nodded slowly, looking down at the bear in her lap. A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on the bear's fuzzy head.
"Emily?" I reached out, gently tilting her chin up to look at me. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, but she didn't move away from my touch. "This is private. Personal."
"It is," I agreed. "But maybe it's not a coincidence that you found it."
Her breath hitched. "What do you mean?" Her voice trembled, and she hugged the bear tighter.
I took a deep breath, deciding to lay my cards on the table. "Emily, from the moment I first saw you in that compound, something about you called to me. Not just because you were brave or because you needed help, but because I saw something in you that... meant more."
"I don't understand," she whispered, but the way her eyes avoided mine told me she did.
"I think you do," I said gently. "The way you responded when I fed you this morning. The way you curled against me last night. The way you're holding that bear right now, like he's the most precious thing in the world."
Emily's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not... I can't be..."
"A Little?" I finished for her. "Why not?"
"Because I'm a professional. Because I take care of others. Because I've spent my entire life proving I don't need anyone." The words tumbled out, each one sounding more desperate than the last. "Because my parents would be horrified. Because the kids I work with deserve someone strong. Because—"
"Because you've only ever been able to rely on yourself," I said softly.
She fell silent, a tear slipping down her cheek. I reached out and gently wiped it away with my thumb.
"Being a Little doesn't make you weak, Emily. It doesn't diminish your strength or your capabilities. It just means that sometimes, in safe spaces with safe people, you allow yourself to be cared for the way you care for others."
Her lower lip trembled. "I've never told anyone. Not even Jennifer. It’s something I keep secret." She shook her head. "I was so private I think Jennifer thought I'd got a secret boyfriend."
"being a Little is one of the bravest things to be. It takes incredible courage to acknowledge this part of yourself, especially after you've spent so long hiding it."
"How did you know?" she asked, finally meeting my eyes.
I smiled gently. "Small tells. How you respond to praise. Your thumb drifting toward your mouth when you're tired or stressed. But mostly, it was just instinct. My Daddy instincts recognized your Little side, even when you were trying to hide it."
Emily looked down at the bear, her fingers tracing its embroidered nose. "I've always fought it. Told myself it was childish, inappropriate."
"And how has that worked out for you?" I asked without judgment.
A hollow laugh escaped her. "Not great. I buy myself stuffed animals then give them away to charity. I watch cartoons with the volume turned low so the neighbors can't hear. I..." she hesitated, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks.
"You can tell me," I encouraged.
"Sometimes I... I color in coloring books," she admitted in a whisper so quiet, I barely caught it. "And I have clothes hidden at home that no one ever sees."
My heart swelled with tenderness for this brave, beautiful woman who had denied herself this basic comfort for so long.
"Thank you for trusting me with that," I said softly. "There's nothing wrong with any of those things, Emily. Nothing at all."
She looked up at me, radiating vulnerability. "But what about my work? The kids who need me? I can't just... I can't be both."
"Why not?" I challenged gently. "Do you think being a Little somehow makes you less capable of doing your job? Does it make you care less about those children?"
"No, but—"
"No buts," I interrupted. "Many of the strongest people I know have aspects of their personalities that they only show to those they trust most. It doesn't make them any less effective in their professional lives."
Emily considered this, absently stroking the bear's ear. "I wouldn't know how," she finally admitted. "How to... let go. How to be that person I keep hidden."
I shifted closer, close enough that our knees almost touched. "It's not something you have to figure out all at once. It's a journey, one step at a time, with someone who cares for you guiding the way, and being in a safe space."
Emily hugged the bear tighter. "Did you... did you make this whole room yourself?"
"I did," I admitted. "Over the course of a year or so. I'd find something at a store that caught my eye—a stuffed animal, a book, a blanket—and bring it home. Eventually, I realized I was creating a space for someone I hadn't met yet."
"That's..." she trailed off, looking around the room with new eyes. "That's really sweet."
"It gave me hope," I said simply. "That someday I'd find the right person to share it with."
Her gaze returned to mine, searching. "And do you still think that? That you'll find that person?"
The question hung between us, heavy with meaning. My heart pounded as I considered my answer.
"I think I might have," I said softly. "But she's been through a lot, and the timing isn't ideal. So, I'm willing to be patient."
Emily's cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, but not before I caught the small smile that curved her lips. She stroked the bear's ear, seemingly lost in thought.
"Barnaby," she said suddenly.
"Hmm?"
"His name. It's Barnaby." She looked up at me through her lashes. "If that's okay."
"It's perfect," I assured her, warmth spreading through my chest. "He's been waiting a long time for someone to name him."
Emily nodded solemnly, as if accepting a great responsibility. Then, without warning, she yawned widely, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"You're tired," I observed. "I don't think you've had proper rest for a long time, so you're playing catch-up."
She hesitated, looking around the room again. Her eyes lingered on the bed with its canopy and colorful sheets.
"Would you like to nap here?" I asked gently. "Just for a little while?"
She bit her lip, clearly torn. "I shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because..." she struggled to find the words. "Because once I let myself have this, I don't know if I can go back to pretending I don't want it."
The honesty in her admission took my breath away. "Then don't go back," I suggested softly. "Move forward instead."
Emily's eyes filled with tears again. "It's not that simple."
“It can be," I countered. "Just for now. Just in this moment."
She looked down at Barnaby, then back at me. "Would you... would you stay until I fall asleep?"
My heart stopped for a moment then seemed to pound out of my chest. "Of course, little one."
Emily rose from the floor, still clutching the bear. She approached the bed hesitantly, as if afraid it might disappear if she moved too quickly. When she reached it, she set Barnaby down and ran her hand over the soft comforter.
"Do you want to be my Daddy?" The question was barely audible, and her eyes were fixed on the bear rather than meeting mine.
My heart thundered in my chest. "Very much so."
Her eyes finally lifted to mine, filled with a mixture of hope and terror. "I don't know if I can."