22. Ariana
22
ARIANA
T he sun hangs high overhead, casting a golden warmth across the gardens and bathing everything in light, which makes the world feel softer, sweeter. I’m on my knees in the soil, hands deep in the beautiful earth, fingers working as I plant delicate rows of lettuce and carrots. The scent of sun-warmed dirt fills my lungs, grounding me. I love it here. This place.
Nearby, Rowie and Ember run barefoot through the grass, shrieking with laughter as they chase each other around the playground. Every so often, they come to visit with me, but they want nothing to do with gardening because they don’t want to get dirty or touch bugs. That’s okay, though. More dirt for me.
It’s the kind of life I used to dream about. When the only sounds were the growl of my stomach and the hum of an engine somewhere far off. Now, I’m here. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel… blissfully happy. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
I pause, swiping the back of my hand across my forehead, smearing dirt across my temple. I glance up to admire all the natural beauty when my eyes catch movement on the path. Theo.
He walks toward me slowly, shoulders relaxed, but his expression unreadable. I blink in surprise and straighten, watching as he lowers himself onto the wooden bench Jasper built so he could sit close while I played in the dirt.
Theo stretches his legs out and offers me a soft, genuine smile. “Hey, Ariana.”
“Hey,” I reply, brushing my palms against my thighs. I glance at the girls, still tumbling across the grass, safe and laughing, then look back at him.
He scratches the back of his neck, eyes thoughtful. “Can we talk for a second?”
My stomach flutters. A little wary. A little nervous. But his tone isn’t sharp. It’s quiet. Careful.
I bite my lip and hesitate, then nod. Slowly, I stand, dusting myself off and making my way over. I lower myself onto the bench beside him, folding my hands in my lap.
He angles toward me, his brows pinched slightly.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For the other night. When I flinched.”
The words take me off guard. My eyes widen slightly.
He goes on before I can reply, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I should’ve said something sooner. It’s just… I don’t do well with touch. Especially when I’m not expecting it.”
I nod, even though I don’t understand. “Why?”
Theo looks away for a second, jaw tight. Then he meets my gaze.
“Because when I was a kid, people hurt me. Really badly.” His voice is low, raw. “And after that, touch became something I feared. Something that didn’t mean love or comfort. It meant pain. It’s gotten better over time, but when someone touches me out of nowhere, I still get startled.”
Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them.
“I’m so sorry, Theo,” I whisper. “I didn’t know. I never would’ve?—”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. I wanted you to understand it wasn’t you. I like you being here. You’re good for Jasper, and for the rest of us, too.”
I shake my head, wiping at my eyes quickly. “I smacked your hand. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even think. It was just… a reaction.”
His expression softens, lips curving into a small smile. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not okay. I’ve been on my own for so long. I’ve had to fight for food. Dig in dumpsters. Go without. And now, even when there are platters of food in front of me, some part of me still panics in the same way I did when I was starving and finally got something to eat. Like if I don’t eat it now, it’ll be gone.”
I stare down at my dirt-streaked fingers, ashamed. “I didn’t even realize how afraid I still was until Jasper reached for my food when I first got here. I smacked him, too. It’s so embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”
Theo is quiet for a long moment.
Then he shifts slightly and places his hand on the bench beside mine. Not touching. Just there. Close. A quiet offering.
“I get it,” he tells me. “More than you know.”
And I believe him. Because while we may not have been through the same things, he’s definitely dealt with his own struggles.
My heart is a little lighter, and I try for a watery smile. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel quite so broken.
I blink back another wave of tears and glance up at him. “I won’t touch you again,” I say softly. “I never meant to hurt you.”
He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head slowly. “No. Don’t stop touching me, please.”
I freeze. “What?”
He nods. “I need to learn. I want to learn. I want to be able to accept touch from all my family. For it to mean comfort instead of fear.”
I nibble on my lip, heart beating a little faster. “But I’m not part of your family…”
He reaches out, slow and deliberate, and brushes a loose strand of hair from my face. His fingers are warm and gentle. “You are,” he says. “You’re as much a part of this family as any of us. We all might be a little fucked up but that’s okay because we have each other. And you have us, Little one.”
Something in my chest twists and pulls. Hope. Belonging. It hurts in the best kind of way.
I can’t speak for a long time, but when I finally do, it’s painful because of the lump in my throat. “Then let’s make a deal.”
He raises an eyebrow. “A deal?”
I nod. “If you promise to help me with my problem… by touching my plate or my food, easing me into it, I’ll help you with yours. I’ll touch you gently when I think it might not be as scary. And we’ll help each other get better.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Deal.”
He pauses, then adds, “Can I… can I hug you?”
Something stutters in my chest. “I’d like that. Can I hug you back?”
He grins and nods, then opens his arms.
I launch forward, wrapping mine around him tightly, burying my face in his shoulder as his arms fold around me in return.
And as we comfort each other, all I can think about is how much I never want to leave here, but one day I’m going to have to.
* * *
J asper’s house is warm and cozy like always. It’s become my happy place. That and the playroom in the main house. But it doesn’t seem to matter how comfortable I get today, it doesn’t reach the ache in my chest. Doesn’t soothe the weight pressing heavy on my ribs.
Everything inside me feels brittle—like the smallest pressure might make me crack.
Because this morning, he told me my car was fixed.
Running smoothly. Reliable again.
Which can only mean one thing.
I’m going to have to leave soon.
Jasper hasn’t said it, hasn’t looked me in the eye and told me it’s time. But I know how this goes. I know what happens when something broken gets patched back together—people expect you to move on. To disappear.
And girls like me? We don’t get to stay. Not forever.
So I’ve spent the whole day fighting back tears. Quiet and distant. Trying not to let my voice shake every time I speak. I can feel the goodbye lurking behind every corner, and it’s making it hard to breathe.
I’m sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, knees tucked to my chest, a picture book open in my lap. One that Jasper bought me. I’m not reading it. I don’t even know what page I’m on. I just keep flipping, pretending I’m okay. Pretending I’m not unraveling.
Jasper walks in from the kitchen. He’s wearing one of those soft, fitted shirts that stretches across his chest and makes him look annoyingly perfect.
“You’ve been quiet today,” he states.
“Just tired,” I mumble, eyes fixed on the book. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll fall apart.
He sits on the couch behind me, his presence large and steady, and I feel him watching me. His voice is careful, probing.
“You’ve been going back and forth from the main house a lot lately,” he begin. “You want to move your stuff over here? Make this more permanent so you don’t have to haul everything?”
The question hits me like a slap.
I flinch, fingers clenching around the book.
“There’s no point,” I reply, barely above a whisper.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” I blurt out too quickly. Too defensively.
His voice drops an octave, firmer now. “Ariana. Lose the attitude and tell me what you meant.”
“I said it’s nothing,” I snap, standing abruptly. My pulse races. I can’t sit here anymore. “I’m going to the main house to see if Rowie wants to color.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. I turn and walk toward the door, needing distance between us. Needing air.
“Stop,” he booms.
My hand hovers over the doorknob.
“Turn around.”
I do, slow and stiff. My eyes sting. I blink furiously, refusing to let him see the tears.
“You’re supposed to ask permission before leaving the house,” he reminds me. “And I don’t appreciate you brushing off my questions.”
I cross my arms, anger and sadness tangling in my throat. “Why does it even matter?”
He raises a brow. “It matters.”
“We agreed this was temporary,” I bite out. “That once I left, it’d be over.”
“Yes,” he says calmly. “We did agree.”
“Well, I’m still here, but not for long.” My voice cracks at the end. I hate that I can’t hold it together. “You fixed my car. That’s what you wanted, right? For me to be able to leave?”
His expression shifts, confusion crossing his face, but he lifts his hands slowly, palms out. “Come here.”
I shake my head, my bottom lip trembling. “No.”
“Ariana,” he repeats, softer now. But still that edge of authority beneath it. “Come. Here.”
I stare at him, everything inside me buckling. But my feet won’t move.
Then his voice drops.
“One…”
The word pierces through me like a blade. My eyes burn.
“Two…”
Tears slip free, tracking down my cheeks. My whole body trembles.
“Don’t make me say three, Little girl.”
I turn back toward the door.
“Three…”
The word cracks through the air like a whip, sharp and final.
My chest seizes, lungs locking tight. A desperate kind of panic blooms in my ribcage as the blood rushes in my ears. I don’t have time to think or prepare before he’s up from the couch—his boots thudding heavily across the floor, a storm in motion.
Then he’s in front of me.
His hands close around my waist, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing more than a feather. I gasp, a startled, broken sound tearing from my throat as my legs kick wildly and my fists press against his chest.
“Jasper!” I cry, breathless. “Put me down! Let me go!”
But he’s silent. His grip is iron, steady and unshakable, his arms locked around me like I belong there. Whether I want to or not.
His jaw is clenched, rigid with restraint, but his eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—burn with something I can’t quite name. Not anger. Not entirely. It’s too raw for that. Too deep.
He carries me like I’m precious. Like I’m his.
Even as I fight him with everything I have.
He sits on the couch, shifting me in one firm movement until I’m lying over his lap. My stomach meets his thigh, my face pressing into the cushion. My arms scramble, legs kicking, humiliation already burning hot behind my eyes.
“Jasper,” I plead, twisting.
My hands fly back, desperate to cover myself, but he grabs one and pins it firmly to the small of my back. My heart pounds in my throat.
“Too late for that,” he growls. “And my name is Daddy.”
The fabric rustles. My breath catches violently in my lungs as he pushes my dress higher, the cool air hitting my exposed skin.
“No!” I cry out, frantic now. “Daddy!”
“You don’t get to disobey and then walk away like nothing happened,” he says. “We agreed on your rules, Little girl. You broke them.”
Then the first spank lands, sharp, unrelenting.
I jolt forward with a cry that escapes before I can bite it back.
“You don’t brush me off.” Smack.
“You don’t lie to me.” Smack.
“You don’t run from me when I’m trying to help you.” Smack. Smack. Smack.
Each blow falls harder than the last, the sting radiating through my body and unraveling what little control I have left. My legs thrash uselessly, but he holds me steady. Every word is a blade, every swat a burn, and I start to sob. Deep, choking sobs that rip through my chest and leave me gasping.
“You think you don’t matter?” Smack.
“You think I fixed your car because I want you gone?” Smack. Smack.
“Owwie!” I wail. “I’m sorry.”
“You think this is temporary? This isn’t fucking temporary, rainbow. Nothing about you and me is temporary.”
Then he delivers a flurry of spanks so fast and brutal that I cry out again, burying my face in the cushion, my sobs wracking my entire frame. My voice is gone, shredded from the inside out.
And then he stops and hooks his fingers in the back of my panties, pulling them down to my thighs. I sob louder, but no matter how much I fight him, he holds me firm.
As soon as my bottom is bared, he starts spanking me again, fast and hard until I have no fight left in me and I go limp over his lap.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
Finally, he stops, but he doesn’t move yet.
Silence crashes down around us like shattered glass. The only sounds are my soft sobs and the pounding of my heart against my rib cage.
I’m drained. Empty. My body trembling from pain, shame, and confusion. The ache in my chest hurts more than my stinging skin.
He shifts me gently, pulling my panties up and my dress down, then gathers me into his arms. I’m pulled against his chest, my face pressed into the curve of his neck as I shake with silent cries.
He holds me like I might disappear. Like I’m worth holding on to.
His hand runs over my back in slow, soothing circles. His lips brush against my temple.
“I’ve got you, rainbow,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”