13. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Foster
The scent of bacon wafted upstairs to me as I put my jeans and a clean shirt on.
You’re going to have to tell him everything. Then he can leave, and you’ll be alone, but you’ll have done the right thing .
Tears pricked my eyes at the idea.
Arnav hadn’t ridiculed my dog bed. He’d tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.
I didn’t always sleep in the dog bed. But when I’d had a stressful day—or was just feeling lonely—I made that choice. Yesterday had been the opposite of lonely. Pizza and three movies? Holding him as he’d cried? Sharing some tenderness? Those weren’t things that people did alone.
Well, duh.
I stuffed my feet into my slippers and headed downstairs. My friend preferred laminate flooring in the house, which was fine, but I tended to run the house a little cool to save on heating costs which meant the floors were pretty much always cold. Great in the summer—crappy in the middle of a cold, wet autumn.
Arnav greeted me with a huge smile and a plate of bacon. “I made myself at home. I figured if you had it, then you wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t eat it often.” I rolled my eyes. “Have to watch my health.”
“That’s right. Because I want you around for a long time.” He pressed a kiss to my lips—completely catching me off guard—then handed me the plate.
I managed a smile.
“What?” He cocked his head.
“Just…” I swallowed. “When I tell you about my past, then you’re going to take off.”
He frowned. “Foster.” Said with part exasperation and part admonishment.
“Yeah?”
“Did you break the law?”
“No.”
“Did you intentionally hurt someone?”
“Well, no.” Definitely not.
“So why are you convinced I’m going to take off? Do you not believe I can be fair?” His expression softened. “Do you not trust me?”
Big question with huge ramifications. But an honest one. “I do trust you. Maybe it’s myself I don’t trust.”
“God, I’m so sorry. I want to hug you, but I need your permission, and I don’t want to burn the French toast.”
“Yeah, burning would be bad.” I eyed the bacon, nestled in some paper towels to absorb the fat. “How about I set the table?”
“That would be perfect.” He snagged me around the waist and pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “Good morning, pup.”
I beamed. “Good morning…uh, Daddy.”
He turned back to the griddle and flipped the toast, showing a nice browning. “Do you mind calling me Daddy? Is there another word you prefer?”
I placed the plate on the table and set about collecting cutlery, glasses, plates, and orange juice from the fridge. I hardly ever drank it, but sometimes I enjoyed the tart taste. “Um.” I considered. “I don’t really like handler—too impersonal. Now, if I was referring to you as something when speaking to someone else, then maybe? And alpha connotes a relationship I don’t think we have. You’re not a pack mate.”
“Alpha can have other meanings.”
After putting the silverware in the proper place, I met his gaze. “I prefer Daddy.” I winced. “That’s not what I called… him . So having something special between the two of us feels like the right thing to do.”
Arnav placed two plates of French toast on the table. He’d already put out the butter and syrup. I didn’t usually add butter—not good for my cholesterol—but I hoped he’d indulge in whatever made him happy. He returned to grab the coffee he’d made himself from the machine. It pleased me that he’d made himself at home.
We both sat.
I passed him the plate of bacon. He grabbed a couple of slices, and then gestured for me to have some as well. I rarely did, and he’d raided my freezer to find it, but again, I was pleased he’d felt comfortable doing that. I wanted him to feel like he could do anything here. After he dug into his food, I did as well.
The French toast tasted divine with just a touch of added syrup.
He’d drowned his, which I found amusing.
I took another bite. “Is this cinnamon?”
“Yes.” He picked up his coffee. “I like the added flavor. Is it to your liking?” He sipped.
“Oh yes. This is…” I swallowed. “No one’s done this for me in a very long time.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’s going to change. I’m not a great chef, but I’m willing to learn. At the very least, we can prepare some meals together.”
My little kitchen would ensure we were close together as we prepared food. “I like that idea.” I eyed him shyly. “So you’ll come back?”
“I would like to. But only if you’re willing. I’m not going to force you into a relationship. Into more than you think you can handle. More than you want.”
Don’t show too much enthusiasm . “I think I’d like a relationship with you.” I slid a bite of French toast through the syrup, but didn’t eat. “I appreciate that you let me be myself last night.”
Unexpectedly, he grasped my hand. Unexpectedly—but not unwelcome.
“You can always be yourself with me. Whatever makes you comfortable. I want you to enjoy your life, Foster. If that means sleeping in a dog bed and playing on the ground, I’m fine with that. If that means going to Kink on pup night and throwing yourself into the pile while I sit back with the other handlers and watch? Well, I’m okay with that as well. Your eyes lit up when I gave you scritches last night—don’t think I didn’t see that. I want to be the one to bring you joy. If that means letting you explore and grasp your nature, I’m fine with that. Everyone has a different path. Yours is to be a pup. Mine is to be a Daddy. Hopefully your Daddy.”
“We’ve known each other four days.” I whispered the words.
“True. And I’m sure Master Dante and Evan would be the first to caution you. Have you spoken to either of them?”
I shook my head.
“Well, I think you should. Dante can vouch for me—at least as far as he’s vetted me. And Evan can offer you support if you need it. He can connect you with other pups. I’m encouraging you to reach out and, if possible, find friends. I don’t ever want you to be isolated.”
“He did that to me.” I put my fork down.
“Ah.” Arnav squeezed my hand. “Perhaps we can eat now and then talk after breakfast? I’d like to hear about the relationship—if you’re comfortable talking about it. I want to know what your triggers are. Because it’s legitimate that there are things I might do that will upset you. You trusted someone, and they betrayed that trust. That hurts.”
I blinked several times, then met his gaze. “Have you ever…?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to be honest with you—I’ve only had a few relationships, and they were well-defined and of limited durations. You make me think more might be possible. And I suppose I should examine those feelings carefully. Except I know you’re the one I want. The right person for me. I’m hoping, in time, that we’ll find a way to forge some kind of relationship.” With the hand not holding mine, he snagged his coffee cup. “And I hope, in time, you’ll come to trust me.” He sipped.
But I do trust you. I’m not sure I should…but I do . Aloud, I said, “That would be nice.”
“Can you finish your breakfast?”
I did a literal gut check. Not wanting my old…boyfriend…to dictate whether or not I was comfortable eating the rest of the delicious meal Arnav had made. “I’m okay. Yes, I can finish.”
He squeezed my hand one more time, then let it go.
I missed the contact, but also understood we each needed two hands to eat.
We consumed the rest of the meal in a companionable silence. Not fraught or anything like that. Just quiet and comfortable. When we were both clearly finished, I offered a smile. “May I clear the dishes and make you another cup of coffee?”
Arnav grinned. “That would be lovely. Perhaps I’ll look outside to see if the road has been plowed. I’ll also need to check my messages.”
“Of course.” Except I hoped the street wasn’t plowed. Because then he’d have to stay. Well, if I dug out my pickup truck, I could certainly drive him wherever he needed to go. I might not mention that option right away. He said I could talk about my relationship with Howard. If I don’t do it right now, I might chicken out . Offhand, I couldn’t think of any triggers, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have any. Well, aside from the obvious one—I didn’t want to be ridiculed or put down. About anything. Ever. If I made a mistake, I was happy to have it pointed out to me so I could learn. But ridicule hurt in a way I wasn’t even certain I could articulate.
Despite my protestation, Arnav took his empty plate and glass into the kitchen. He still had a few sips left of his coffee, so he took the mug with him into the living room. He’d only used the number of dishes absolutely necessary, so cleaning up took little time. I turned on the dishwasher and made him a fresh cup of coffee in a new mug. I was just about to take it to him when he appeared.
“So, no plowing yet, but the city website says soon. Good thing I don’t live in the hills north of Mission City. The plows aren’t likely to get there until later in the afternoon at the earliest.”
“Where do you live?”
His eyes widened.
Shit, was I not supposed to ask that question?
He cleared his throat. “On a cul-de-sac near the Abbey.”
Okay, not very helpful. Everything from two-bedroom bungalows to mansions were within a mile radius of Westminster Abbey. The old building was atop the highest hill in Mission City proper. I’d gone up once to see the view which spanned much of Cedar Valley and the mighty Fraser River. Well over to Abbotsford and even a view of Mount Baker, the dormant volcano in Washington State. So, that he lived near the Abbey told me little.
None of my business. Just because I’m curious, doesn’t mean I’m entitled to the information. “That sounds nice. I hope to one day get a place of my own. Not that I don’t love this place…” I gazed around the small space. Cozy enough for one. Okay for two, I supposed. Except a bit on the cramped side. Once the downstairs renovations were completed, there’d be more space.
“This is a lovely home. If you wanted to buy, could you get a mortgage?”
“I can’t afford this place on my salary, and my savings aren’t enough. I’ll keep trying, but I likely won’t have enough of a down payment for a condo until I’m fifty. And that means working until I’m seventy-five just to pay the damn mortgage off. That all feels overwhelming. So maybe I’m just meant to rent for the rest of my life. Nothing wrong with that.”
Arnav moved to my side. “Of course not.”
“He wouldn’t let me work.” I blinked. “I had to stay at home and serve him. And then he’d make fun of me and put me down because I wasn’t contributing.”
“Christ. What an asshole.”
I couldn’t even muster up a smile. I cleared my throat. “Can we sit?”
“Of course.” He gestured to the couch.
I sat on one end.
He sat on the other end, but very close to the middle. He put one arm on the back, reaching out toward me. In his other hand, he held his coffee. “Okay, so share what you want. Don’t feel you have to say anything or not say anything that you think might hurt me. I’m a big boy. Honesty is critical.”
“Yeah, okay.”