Chapter 7
Camden
It’s been two days since my world nearly fell out from under me. More than that. Fifty-eight hours since Jameson called me and I took off for the hospital.
It’s Simone’s third morning in my house. I know it’s to be expected that she would look and feel worse at this stage, but she’s more despondent.
When I’m with her, she will look me in the eyes and even sometimes gives me a lopsided smile. But the moment I leave her alone, she goes into a trance. She spends most of her time curled up in the overstuffed armchair in my bedroom.
Our bedroom.
I moved the chair so she could see out the window, but she stares out of it without seeing anything. I catch her like this often. I’m leaning on the doorframe even now watching her.
I don’t know what she’s thinking. When I ask, she never gives me a solid answer.
I worry she’s traumatized. I’ve done a lot of searching on the internet.
People who are survivors of assault deal with their ordeal in a million different ways.
Sometimes, they snap right back out of it and come up fighting.
Other times, they crawl into a ball and hide from the world.
I’m between a rock and a hard place here.
On the one hand, I want our home to be her safe place.
I don’t care if she never leaves the house again.
She’s safe here. I know where she is. I have the alarm set.
I even added extra security cameras and window sensors yesterday. No one is going to get to her here.
But I’m probably doing her a disservice by keeping her locked up in this gilded tower, so to speak. I don’t want her to become a hermit.
Simone is a vibrant woman. I’ve known her for a long time.
I’ve never seen her so withdrawn. I know Natasha suggested she meet with Quinten Odell because Jameson told me she’d talked with him about it.
I know Quinten. I should make her an appointment.
I bet he’d come to the house if I asked him to.
I wouldn’t want to force Simone to leave the house while her face is so bruised. She’d panic if people stared at her.
I know healing is going to take time, both emotionally and physically, but I’m starting to grow worried. She’s on a roller coaster. There are times when she smiles, but they never reach her ears. Most of the time, she looks blank, and it’s getting worse.
On top of everything else, I want her to open up to me a bit.
It didn’t occur to me before I brought her home that I don’t know anything about her family or where she’s from.
I never asked her anything personal while she was my student because I didn’t want to encourage her to spend more time than absolutely necessary in my office.
Now, I have questions. And they’re piling up.
It would help if the police could pick up the asshole who attacked her.
The fact that he hasn’t been caught yet doesn’t make my girl feel safe.
I called Colton at Black Blade Protection to see if he could help.
Most of the guys who work at Black Blade are members of Surrender and have a soft spot for Littles.
Every one of them I’ve met is a Daddy, including Colton, so I knew he would want to help.
He used to work for the police, so he has contacts.
He was able to call the station and get a copy of the DNA evidence.
Unfortunately, he found out there was no match yet, which either means Simone’s attacker has gotten away with a lot of shit, or she was his first victim.
Either case isn’t helpful. I have spoken to the owner, Blade, and he assures me his men are still working on it, but their hands are tied until there’s more evidence. The waiting sucks.
I shove off the wall and enter our bedroom. When I do, Simone looks up.
I head toward her, bend down, scoop her off the seat before taking her spot and settling her on my lap.
She doesn’t protest, nor does she seem surprised. She sighs and leans her head against my shoulder.
For a while, I simply stroke her hair. At least she isn’t wandering around half-naked anymore.
I ordered her comfortable clothes. She’s wearing black leggings, a soft pink long-sleeved shirt, and pink socks.
I’m the one who fixed her hair in a ponytail—mostly because she hasn’t shown much interest in doing so herself.
She hasn’t shown much interest in anything , and it’s killing me.
I tell her when to eat. I give her baths.
I comb her hair. I bundle her up either on the loveseat, this chair, or the bed.
I pile books around her. I turn on reruns so she can watch television.
She doesn’t ask for anything, but she doesn’t argue with me either.
This is not my girl. I want her back.
“Where are you from, Simone?” I ask, opening the can of worms.
She doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Chicago.”
“Ah, windy. It can be colder there than here in the winter.”
“Yeah.”
“Were you born there?”
“Yes.”
“Are your parents still there?”
She sighs and tips her head back to look at me. “I’m not stupid, Camden. I know what you’re doing.”
I chuckle. “Busted. Tell me about yourself, Simone.”
“I haven’t even told Natasha about my past. No one in Seattle knows anything.”
Oh, wow. I don’t know what to make of that.
“I’m not Natasha or any other person you’ve ever met in Seattle.
I’m the man who wants to spend his life making you happy.
I’m the man who wants to be your Daddy Dom if you’ll have me.
I want to know everything about you. Every last detail.
I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you laugh. ”
She holds my gaze for a long time. Finally, she licks her lips. “I don’t know if my family is still there. I assume they are. I left when I turned eighteen to come here and never looked back. I haven’t had a single contact with any of them from that day.”
Jesus. Now I’m worried. “Will you tell me why?”
“My parents are pretentious assholes. All they ever care about is appearances. They would have sucked the life out of me and turned me into a robot if I’d let them.
But I didn’t. I’m lucky. I had my inheritance from my grandparents.
I came into it on my eighteenth birthday.
I got a lawyer that very day, moved the money to my own private account, and then left town. No one can touch my trust fund.”
“So, you paid your way through college on your own?” It must be a lot of money because she’s always been well-dressed and she’s had her own apartment for three years.
Even though I hate that she got attacked in front of it, the truth is her apartment is in a nice area.
It was a probably random act of violence.
Never once in the past four years did I consider she had no family backing her education. I could kick myself for never asking. I’ve held her at arm’s length all this time and she’s been alone.
“Where did you go for holidays?”
“I didn’t. I stayed in my apartment. If anyone asked, I lied and told them I went home.”
My chest tightens. Fuck .
“And Natasha doesn’t know?”
“She and I didn’t become close friends until about six months ago at the beginning of our last semester. I’ve vaguely mentioned that I don’t get along with my family, but that’s all she knows.”
I stroke her hair, trying to remain calm. No wonder Simone is such an old soul. She’s been dealing with adult situations since she was far too young. Most college students can’t manage money. They don’t even pay their own bills. She’s been doing all that and more for four years.
“And you had enough money to get through college without getting a part-time job?”
She stares at me for a long time. I think she’s trying to decide how much she wants to tell me.
I wait, wanting her to trust me. I want everything from her.
Eventually, she looks around my bedroom. “I’ll answer your question. I’m not trying to avoid it, but may I ask you something first?”
“Of course, Baby girl. Anything.”
“Do you need to work? Do you need your job as an English professor?”
“No. Both of my parents are still living, and I don’t need a dime from them. My grandparents left me a sizable inheritance, and my parents turned the deed to this house over to me five years ago when they retired to Florida. I work because I enjoy it and I want to keep my mind occupied.”
“I don’t need to work either, Camden. I went to school so I could pretend to be a normal person. A regular college student. I thought it might help me fit in if I blended in and did what other eighteen-year-olds do.”
“And? Were you right?”
“No.”
I’m a bit taken aback. I feel sad for her. Her eyes are not dancing. She’s not sassing me. She’s so very serious. I’ve never seen her this serious. “Why not, Little one?”
“For the same reason I left home and never looked back. I’m Little.
I’ve known it for a long time. I spent my first year in the dorms, but it was a struggle repressing who I am on the inside.
My second year, I got my own apartment, and that’s when I was really able to open up.
Not in front of other people, but alone.
For the first time in my life, I could be openly Little in my private space. ”
My God.
“When I realized Natasha was Little…it changed my life. She’s the first friend I’ve had who is genuinely Little, and she didn’t even realize she was into age play when we started hanging out. She learned about it mostly from me while Jameson was being too stubborn to tell her he was a Daddy.”
She gives me an evil side-eye.
I chuckle. “Jameson can be stubborn. He didn’t want to risk losing her.”
“He’s never going to lose her.”
“Well, he didn’t know that.” I continue stroking Simone’s hair. It’s so soft. “What about Surrender? I’ve seen you there. I know you go. There are tons of Littles there. You haven’t made any friends there?”
“I’ve made some friends, yeah, but not many are my age. A lot of them are career women who dabble on the side, or they have full-time Daddies like Natasha. I have fun with them, but they aren’t free on a Wednesday night to come over to my stupid apartment and play Barbies.”
My heart hurts for this girl. I hold her closer, trying not to cause her pain. “I’m so sorry, Little one. If I’d known…”
“What? What would you have done if you’d known I was alone at Christmas three years ago or even six months ago? What would you have done if you’d known any of this?”
I draw in a deep breath. I know my answer, but is she ready to hear it? Finally, I give her hair a gentle tug, so she’ll tip her head back and really look at me. “I probably would have quit my job and claimed you.”
She gasps. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m being realistic. It was hard for me to stay away from you for all this time.
I did so for a few reasons. One of those is because you were so very young when I met you.
You still are, but eighteen is a lot younger than twenty-two.
I had no idea how well you knew your mind.
Girls your age sometimes think they’re Little or dabble in it, but when push comes to shove, they realize it’s not for them.
It’s fun for a while, and they move on.”
“I’ve known definitively that I’m Little for six years. Probably younger if I could have put a name to it. I’m not dabbling in anything,” she defends.
“I know you’re not, Baby girl. I figured that out along the way.
But there’s more. Being with me is more than simply knowing you’re Little.
I’m at least as bossy as Jameson. Not all Littles want or need a super-dominant Daddy.
I had no way of knowing if you would enjoy that sort of dynamic.
I still can’t be sure. I’m a fish out of water here, praying you’re going to like what I have to offer once you get to know me outside of college. ”
She holds my gaze for a long time. “I think I should dye my hair.”
I chuckle. “Uh, okay. Where did that come from?” She never ceases to shock me.
“I don’t think the goth thing works for me. I want to get some dye that’s my natural color so it can grow out without everyone watching a black line move down my head.”
I kiss her forehead. “We’ll order some today.”
She snuggles into me again, tucking her head against my shoulder. I could hold her like this for the rest of the day if we didn’t need to eat or pee.
After a long time, she speaks again. “I already know you’re the sort of Daddy I want, Camden.
Even though you think I don’t know you, I do.
I may not have lived under your dominance, but you showed me how bossy you could be every time I pulled one of my ridiculous stunts in your office.
And the look on your face… I may have laughed, but I felt the weight of dominance. ”
I smile against her head.
“Plus, you’re friends with Jameson, and the two of you are very close. I’ve seen that man in action. He’s intense. I have to assume you are, too.”
“You really put him through the wringer a few times, naughty girl. Poor Natasha—so sweet and submissive—and she makes friends with a naughty wannabe Middle, who talks her into staying out past curfew, buys her coffee, and convinces her to lie when class is canceled. Tsk tsk.”
“Hey… For the record, I don’t think I’m a Middle. That was just part of my bratty goth phase. And those shenanigans were all to get Jameson’s attention. The man was never going to fully Daddy Natasha if someone didn’t force his hand.”
“Yeah, it was a good ploy. I’ll give you that. But as soon as you’re healthy, I assure you I will introduce you to a side of me you have not met yet.”
“Looking forward to it,” she murmurs before she goes quiet again.
I’m okay with quiet, especially while I’m holding her in my lap, but I’m worried about her. This conversation was very normal, but I suspect as soon as I step away, she will retreat into herself again. I don’t like it.
I’m going to need to stay on top of her to make sure she’s not suffering from PTSD.