Chapter 10
Brett
I woke up to the weight of her. Maisy was tucked against my side, her breath soft and steady, her hair a wild mess spilling across my pillow. It smelled faintly like vanilla. I didn’t move. Didn’t even think about it. Something about seeing her there hit me square in the chest—like I’d been carrying around an empty space I didn’t even know existed until now.
Her cheek pressed into my arm, soft as anything, her lashes fluttering just lightly in sleep. She looked small like this. Peaceful. Vulnerable. My throat tightened, and something deep inside me pulled taut. I couldn’t explain it—not fully—but damn if it didn’t feel good. Right, even.
I shifted just enough to let my head rest back on the pillow without jostling her. The sheets were warm, tangled between us from the night before. Her toes brushed my calf. Tiny, absent movements that made me want to gather her closer. Protect her. Keep her right here, safe and sound.
For once, I didn’t feel rushed. I could’ve stayed like that all day, watching her. Breathing her in. Hell, I’d have done it for a lifetime if the world would let me.
We hadn’t had sex last night, but what we had done felt about as intimate as two people could be. I was buzzing with it, like my heart and brain were vibrating with the closeness. Could things get even better? All I knew was that I wanted to find out, desperately.
Maisy stirred after a while, a tiny hum escaping her lips as she curled tighter against me. Her eyes blinked open slow, unfocused at first, then settled on me. A sleepy smile crept across her face, lazy and content, and it knocked the wind right out of me. How did she do that? Look at me like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing?
"Morning Daddy," she mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep.
Okay. Well. Hearing her calling me Daddy did something insane to me.
"Morning," I said, my voice catching just a little. I reached out, smoothing a strand of hair off her cheek. She leaned into the touch, her skin warm beneath my fingertips.
I didn’t think. Didn’t plan. I just bent down and kissed her. Slow and easy. Her lips were soft, pliant, tasting faintly sweet. She sighed into it, her hand coming up to rest on my chest. The kiss wasn’t rushed; it didn’t need to be. It was just us, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten.
When I pulled back, her eyes stayed closed for a beat longer, like she wanted to hold onto the moment. When they opened, they found mine again, and for a second, neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to.
“That was nice,” she said. “I like kissing you.”
“I like kissing you, too.”
It felt so innocent, like I was a kid again, too.
"So," I murmured, my voice low. My fingers found a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. The silky texture slid under my fingertips, and for a second, I let myself linger on the motion. "We should get ready for work."
Maisy scrunched her nose, her lips pulling into a pout that made me bite back a grin. "Do we have to?" she mumbled, shifting closer like she could burrow deeper into the bed, into me.
"Afraid so. As your Daddy, it’s my duty to make sure that you do your duty," I said, keeping my tone soft but firm. Her mock annoyance tugged at something deep inside me—a mix of affection and the pull to guide her, protect her. But work was work, and the station didn’t wait for cozy mornings. "Station’s not gonna run itself."
"Ugh." She groaned, dragging the single syllable out as if it were a protest against the universe. Her eyes fluttered closed again, but the corners of her mouth hinted at a teasing smile. "Five more minutes?"
"Maisy..." My warning was light, but it did the job. Her eyes peeked open, sparkling with mischief before she finally gave a reluctant nod.
"Fine," she sighed, her voice still thick with sleep. She stretched, limbs tangling in the sheets, and I forced myself to look away before my resolve cracked. “I guess I’m not doing bratty roleplay anymore.”
“No. Save it for later.” I reached down and gently squeezed her ass. “Don’t want to wear your bottom out.”
“You could never,” she said, in a way that made blood rush to my groin.
“Don’t test me.”
She bit her lip, then she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the motion tugging the sheets off me. Her shirt— my shirt, technically—hung loose on her frame as she reached for the black dress crumpled near the nightstand. I watched her move, graceful in that unintentional way she had, and forced myself to sit up before I got distracted all over again.
“I’m gonna need to go back to get changed. Not sure little black dresses are fire station regulation uniform.”
I chuckled. “You’d give a couple of the guys heart attacks if you showed up wearing that.”
She smiled, then paused for a moment. “Speaking of the guys, I think . . . don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Take what?”
“I don’t think we should tell anyone about us.”
“How come?”
“I think dad needs to know first. And, I don’t think we should tell him until we’re ready. And I need to tell him I’m a Little.” She was clearly panicking, speaking faster and faster, almost out of control. “He’s gonna be ashamed. Do you think he’s going to be ashamed, Brett?”
“No, I don’t. He loves you, and he’s a good man.”
“He’s also super old-fashioned. And gets angry.”
"Maisy," I said softly, catching her wrist just as she grabbed her bra from the chair. She stilled but didn’t look at me right away. "We’ll figure it out. He doesn’t have to know anything until we’re ready."
She hesitated, her fingers curling around the fabric in her hand. Finally, she turned to face me, her eyes wide, searching. "You don’t get it, Brett. My dad’s not just anyone. He’ll—" She broke off, blowing out a shaky breath. "He’d freak if he found out before we told him ourselves."
"Then we’ll tell him. When it’s the right time." I stood, closing the space between us. My hand found her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly over her skin. "This is ours. No one else gets a say in it."
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but then she nodded, leaning into my touch for just a second before pulling back. "Okay Daddy," she whispered.
"Good girl," I said, letting her go even though every part of me wanted to hold on longer.
Maisy finished dressing quickly after that, quiet but focused. I could feel the shift in her, the walls going up—not between us, exactly, but around her. A defense mechanism, maybe. I tried not to take it personally. Instead, I busied myself with straightening the bed, knowing she needed the space.
“Okay, I better go,” she said.
“See you at the station.”
A goodbye kiss, sweet, and too short. If it had lasted an hour it would have been too short.
She slipped out, shutting the door with a soft click behind her. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the empty space where she’d been. The room felt colder without her, too big, too still.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, letting out a slow breath. The sheets still smelled faintly of her—a mix of lavender and something sweeter, something uniquely her. My hands rested on my thighs, but they itched to reach for her again. To pull her back.
Last night replayed in fragments, flashes of softness and trust. Her voice, small and certain, saying "yes, Daddy". The way she’d looked at me afterward, vulnerable but unafraid. It was intoxicating, all of it. But now, with the morning light creeping across the floor, reality pressed down hard.
"Get it together," I muttered under my breath. There was no room for doubt now. Not when it came to Maisy.
***
T he truck hummed beneath me as I took the last bend toward the station. My hand rested loose on the wheel, and damn if I didn’t catch myself grinning like an idiot. It wasn’t the kind of smile you could shake off either—it stretched wide, pulling at my cheeks until they ached in the best way.
Maisy’s laugh echoed in my head, soft and breathy like it had been just hours ago. The way she’d looked at me, all trust and warmth, still hit like a firehose to the chest. Yeah, something had shifted last night, cracked open that door I hadn’t dared touch in years. And now? Now it felt like I couldn’t slam it shut even if I wanted to.
I pulled into the lot, tires crunching over gravel. The old brick station loomed ahead, squat and sturdy. Climbing out of the cab, I caught sight of Jake and Pete near the side entrance, mugs of coffee steaming in their hands.
"Morning," I called, voice coming out brighter than usual. Couldn’t help it.
"Well, damn, Wilkins." Jake raised an eyebrow, smirking around the rim of his mug. "Didn’t know you knew how to smile like that."
"Yeah," Pete chimed in, leaning against the wall. "What’s got you looking so chipper? Win the lottery? Or find a girl who’ll actually put up with your ass?"
"Not the lottery, that’s for sure," I said, keeping my tone light. My grin held steady as I walked past them, but my pulse kicked up. Their teasing was harmless, but still—the last thing I needed was for anyone to start connecting dots. Not yet.
Inside, I shrugged off my jacket and tossed it onto the bench in the locker room. The chatter of the early shift buzzed from the kitchen down the hall, blending with the low hum of the scanner.
"Focus," I muttered under my breath. I had a job to do, same as every day. Whatever was brewing between Maisy and me could stay tucked away for now.
Mid-morning rolled in without much fuss—just paperwork and the usual ribbing from the guys. Then it hit.
The alarm bell clanged sharp and loud, cutting through the air like a blade. My heart jumped, muscle memory kicking in before my brain could catch up. Boots, helmet, gear—it all came together in seconds as we scrambled for the engine. The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio: "Retail unit, Main Street. Reports of smoke from the back entrance. Possible active fire."
"Let’s move!" Jake barked, already climbing into the rig.
I threw myself into the seat beside him, adrenaline pumping like it always did. But then… something else crept in. Something I wasn’t used to feeling, not here, not in the heat of this. Fear. Not for me—for her. For what I stood to lose now that Maisy was part of my world.
"Stay sharp, Wilkins," Jake said, snapping me back. His eyes flicked to mine, searching. "You good?"
"Yeah," I lied, jaw tightening.
The sirens wailed as we tore down Main Street, the familiar rhythm of controlled chaos settling over the crew. Normally, it steadied me too—kept me locked in, focused. But today, a flicker of doubt gnawed at the edges. In the back of my mind, Maisy’s smile lingered, sweet and fragile. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe. This was no time to lose my head.
The door to the store’s back entrance hung crooked on its hinges, smoke curling out in lazy tendrils. I tightened my grip on the hose, stepping over shattered glass and blackened debris. My pulse hammered in a steady rhythm that had nothing to do with exertion.
"Wilkins, clear the left," Jake barked from behind me. His voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a knife.
"Got it," I said, already moving.
The air burned my throat, thick with charred wood and melted plastic. The fire was mostly knocked down by now—just a few stubborn embers licking at the edges of some shelving units. Still, I moved slow, deliberate. Every corner needed to be checked. No room for mistakes.
"Clear on this side," I called, scanning the scorched walls one more time.
"Copy that. Bring it in," Jake replied, his tone less urgent now.
But I didn’t stop. Something prickled under my skin, a restlessness I couldn’t shake. I crouched low, running a hand along the baseboards where the smoke had settled thickest. The heat still radiated off the floor, but there were no signs of hidden flames. Just ash.
"Wilkins," Jake again, closer now. "You hearing me?"
"Yeah," I muttered, standing and wiping my gloves on my turnout pants. "Just double-checking."
"Triple-checking, more like," he said, not unkindly. He clapped a hand on my shoulder as we headed out. "Good work."
"Thanks," I said, but my chest felt tight. Too tight.
Outside, the cool air hit me like a slap. The streets were quiet, save for the hiss of steam rising from the soaked pavement and the occasional radio chatter from the engine. The smell of burned rubber clung to everything. I pulled off my helmet, letting the breeze rake through my sweat-soaked hair.
"Everything alright?" Jake asked, his gaze sharper than usual.
"Yeah," I lied again, giving him a quick nod before turning away. My eyes flicked toward the crowd that had gathered across the street. Locals, mostly. None of them her.
Why would she be here? She wasn't even close to the fire. But still, the thought of Maisy anywhere near something like this sent a chill crawling up my spine.
"Wilkins!" someone shouted from the truck. "Let’s roll!"
"Coming," I called back, shaking the tension out of my shoulders. Focus. It was over. Everyone was safe. Time to move on.
***
B ack at the station, the shower water ran hot, scalding almost. I leaned both hands against the tiled wall, letting it pound over my shoulders, washing away the soot, the grime… but not the nerves. They stayed lodged under my skin, buzzing like static.
I dried off quickly, pulling on a clean shirt and heading for my locker. Most of the guys had already cleared out, their laughter echoing faintly down the hall as they hit the rec room or the kitchen. Normally, I’d join them. Not today.
I caught her in the hallway, just as she was coming out of the office. She had a clipboard tucked under one arm, her phone in the other hand, and that distracted little wrinkle between her brows like she was trying to solve three problems at once.
"Maisy," I said, low enough so it wouldn’t carry. Just her name.
Her head shot up, eyes locking on mine. For half a second, everything else disappeared—clipboards, phones, the faint hum of voices from down the hall. It was just us. The same way it had been last night. Her lips curved into a soft, almost secretive smile, and I felt my chest tighten.
"Hey," she whispered, stepping closer. There wasn’t much space, not with the narrow hallway and the guys milling around somewhere nearby. But it felt private anyway, like the air around us had thickened, shutting everyone else out. "Heard the dispatch. Glad you’re safe."
"Me too," I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. Damn. Every time she looked at me like that—like I was someone worth worrying about—I felt it all over again. That thump in my chest, that pull low in my gut. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was there. Strong.
"I keep thinking about last night . . ." Her voice trailed off, barely audible, her gaze flicking toward the open door behind me. She didn’t finish the sentence, but I didn’t need her to. Last night hung between us like an unspoken promise, warm and electric.
"Yeah," I murmured, taking half a step closer. Close enough to see the faint pink flush creeping up her neck. Close enough to notice how her fingers tightened on the edge of the clipboard. "What about tonight?"
She blinked, caught off guard. Then her breath hitched, just slightly. Enough that I noticed. Enough that it made something twist in my gut.
"Tonight?" she repeated, her voice soft, unsure.
"Unless you’ve got plans." I leaned in, just a little, letting my shoulder brush hers. Not enough for anyone passing by to notice, but enough for her to feel it. To remind her.
"Plans?" She smiled then, biting her bottom lip. A nervous habit, I guessed, but it drove me crazy in the best way. "No . . . no plans. I’d love that."
"Good," I said, my voice dropping even lower. I let myself smile, just a little, because seeing her like this—lit up, alive—it did something to me I couldn't explain. "Then it’s a plan."
I straightened, putting just enough space between us to breathe, but not enough to break the thread connecting us. Her shoulders relaxed, but her eyes stayed locked on mine.
"Alright," I said, nodding toward the corridor. "Better get back before someone notices."
"Right." She blinked, snapping out of whatever haze we’d been in. But as she turned, her lips curved into a smile. A quiet, stolen kind of smile meant only for me.
"Later," she said softly, her voice carrying a promise I felt all the way down to my boots.
"Later," I replied, watching her walk away.
I stood there for a second longer than I should have, letting the moment settle. Then I shook it off, heading toward the paperwork waiting for me in the office.
But damn if my mind wasn’t already skipping ahead to tonight.