CHAPTER FOUR
Janice
J anice's fingers traced the edge of her skirt, the fabric catching on a hangnail. She winced, more from the throb in her arm than the tiny snag. The cut pulsed in time with her heartbeat, an insistent reminder of why she sat here, perched on the edge of a chair that suddenly felt too big for her.
Chuck North's eyes bored into her from across his massive desk. She forced herself to meet his gaze, willing her face to reveal nothing. The office around them was a study in contrasts: cowboy hats hung next to gleaming file cabinets, a state-of-the-art computer nestled amid stacks of leather-bound ledgers.
A floorboard creaked. Janice's breath caught as Rusty shifted his weight by the window, his profile etched against the late afternoon sun. She still couldn’t believe he was here.
Rusty. Her old Daddy. Her fiancé. The man who broke her heart forever.
The realization hit her again, a jolt of . . . what? Anger? Fear? Relief?
Ten years, she thought. How is it possible he looks exactly the same?
But he didn't, not really. New lines framed those soulful brown eyes. His hair was shot through with more silver than she remembered. Yet the way he stood—feet planted wide, thumbs hooked in his belt loops—was so achingly familiar that Janice had to look away. Somehow, when she looked at him, she didn't just see Rusty. She saw herself, as a younger woman, happy.
She couldn't stand it.
Chuck cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. "Ms. Parker," he began, his voice as rough as his salt-and-pepper beard. "I believe you have some explaining to do."
Janice drew a steadying breath. She'd rehearsed this a hundred times on the long journey here, but now, faced with Chuck's scrutiny and Rusty's unsettling presence, the carefully prepared words crumbled to dust.
Start at the beginning, she told herself. But where, exactly, was that? The moment she'd made the decision to run? Or ten years ago, when Rusty had left her and her father had started making her life an abject hell?
The cut on her arm throbbed again, more insistent this time. Janice's fingers twitched, fighting the urge to touch the bandage hidden beneath her sleeve. There was no going back now. She had to make them understand.
"Mr. North," she began, hating the tremor in her voice. "I know I'm probably the last person you expected to see today..." The words died in her throat as Chuck's expression hardened.
"Unauthorized entry is a serious matter, Janice." His hands, weathered and strong, rested on the polished wood before him. "We have rules for everyone's safety here." He glanced at her arm. "Including yours."
She swallowed hard. "I understand, Sir. I... I didn't know what else to do."
"That hole you cut could've let wild animals in, our stock out, or worse." Chuck's frown deepened. "The people here—the Littles—they came to us for protection. Your actions put them all at risk."
Janice blinked rapidly, fighting tears. "I'm sorry, I—"
A wave of dizziness washed over her. The throbbing in her arm intensified, radiating heat. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool air. She shifted, trying to focus on Chuck's continuing lecture, but the words blurred together.
"Are you feeling alright?" Chuck's tone shifted, concern creeping in.
"Just . . . warm," Janice lied, dabbing at her brow. She couldn't reveal her injury, not when she'd already caused so much trouble.
A floorboard creaked again. Rusty had moved closer, his eyes fixed on her. Did he still care? No, impossible. Not after how things had ended. And yet . . . even with the silver in his hair and the new lines on his face, he was still Rusty . Tall. Strong. Gentle.
But not for her. He probably had some other Little to comfort now. Janice was ancient history.
She swayed slightly in her chair, the room tilting. Focus, she told herself fiercely. You came here for a reason. Make them understand.
"I know what I did was wrong," Janice admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "But I didn't have any other choice. I had nowhere else to go."
Chuck leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "What do you mean?" he asked, his expression serious but not unkind.
"It’s my father,” Janice said quietly.
Instantly, she sensed Rusty’s posture stiffening, and the room became so quiet they could hear a pin drop.
Janice swallowed hard, preparing herself to go on. “Ever since I embraced my Little side, my father has made me feel like I'm not worthy of his love or respect. He's a very wealthy man—an aristocrat, in fact. Back in Scotland, he’s a Laird, which means he owns a large and important estate of land. He owns a large cattle ranch in Colorado, too. He doesn’t want me to tarnish the reputation he’s built up over the years. And that means he’ll stop at nothing—nothing—trying to stop me from being who I really am." Janice swallowed hard, fighting back tears.
She cast a look up at Rusty, who looked back at her, grim-faced.
"I, uh, I’m not sure if Rusty’s mentioned to you about our—”
“Chuck knows,” Rusty cut in. “He knows we were in a relationship. We fill out a full disclosure form when we start living here, noting our past relationships.”
Janice nodded. “Okay. Well, my father n-never approved of my relationship with you, Rusty.” Her voice was shaking now. “He blamed you for 'making' me a Little, even though it's just who I am.”
Rusty’s jaw looked tight and there was a hardness in his eyes, but he remained silent, so she went on. “After Rusty lef—. . . well, after things ended between us, my father won’t let me get a job or even leave the house. He had someone watch me night and day, and he didn’t let me have any money so I don’t have any financial independence. He had all kinds of cruel ways of hurting me, physically and emotionally. Subtle ways. It’s gotten a lot worse lately. I’ve been trapped. And then, last week, he told me to pack my bags. Said he was selling the cattle ranch and taking me back to Scotland. Said he needed to erase my past and start again.”
Janice sniffed, the tears threatening to overwhelm her. “I packed a bag like he said. And then I waited for my opportunity to escape. I saw my chance to run away when my guard was asleep, and . . . well, I did. My dad’s probably going out of his mind. I can’t go back to him though, Sir. I just can’t.”
Janice hesitated, the memories of her father’s emotional cruelty flooding her mind like a dark storm cloud. Her heart ached as she remembered the countless times he had called her “stupid” and “worthless,” eroding her self-esteem one cruel word at a time. He would belittle her in front of guests, mocking her interests and dismissing her opinions as inconsequential. He made sure she felt small, insignificant, and unworthy of any praise or love. Janice often found herself awake at night, tears silently streaming down her cheeks as she clutched Little Miss Giggles, seeking solace in the familiar comfort of her stuffie. The only source of warmth in the icy void her father had created around her.
Silence filled the room as Chuck and Rusty absorbed her words. Janice could see the surprise and concern on their faces.
Chuck sighed, then started to talk. "The problem is, Janice that—"
Rusty cleared his throat and butted in. "Sir, I know it's not my place, but I think Janice should be allowed to stay here at the ranch. At least temporarily."
"Rusty?" Janice whispered, her heart swelling with hope.
"I'm surprised," Chuck said, his eyes soft. "With your history."
"Look, our past is complicated, and we both know it wouldn't be healthy for us to be around each other," Rusty continued. "But we can't just turn our back on her when she's clearly in need of help, Chuck."
Janice stared at him, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. She knew Rusty was right about the need for distance between them, but it still hurt to hear it out loud.
"Thank you, Rusty," Janice murmured.
Chuck rubbed his scruff, deep in thought, as he mulled over Rusty's words.
"Alright," Chuck said slowly, his eyes darting between Rusty and Janice. "I'm not too happy about how you got here, little one, but I understand that you didn't have many options. Desperation makes us do terrible things. I'll admit, it's the complicated history between you two that made me initially say you couldn't stay. We don’t need any drama at this ranch. It’s a safe space for Littles and Daddy Doms alike."
Janice took a shaky breath, waiting for what would come next.
"However," Chuck continued, "I respect Rusty's opinion, and I can see that you're clearly in need of help. I'm willing to propose a temporary solution: you can stay at the ranch for a trial period. You'll need to contribute by helping with the ranch duties and adhering to our community rules."
"Thank you, Chuck." Janice's voice trembled with relief. “So . . . there is room for me at the ranch?”
“For now,” Chuck said without smiling. Then, he turned to Rusty. "For the duration of the trial period, you and Janice should stay away from one another, Rusty. I think it's best for both of you."
"Agreed," Rusty said wholeheartedly.
Janice felt a pang in her chest. She hated seeing how sure Rusty was that he didn’t want to be around her. Even so, she forced a smile and nodded. "Yes, that's probably for the best."
As they discussed the details of her temporary stay, Janice felt her dizziness return, her arm throbbing worse than ever.
"Let's get you settled in," Chuck said, standing up. "I'll show you to your temporary quarters and we can go over the rules."
Janice nodded, and the room spun even more. "Thank you, Chuck. I appreciate it." She rose from her seat, her heart heavy with mixed emotions. She glanced at Rusty one more time, knowing that this might be the last time they shared a room together.
"Goodbye," she whispered under her breath. She took a shaky step forward, the pain in her arm intensifying to an almost unbearable level.
"Janice!" Chuck shouted suddenly, his voice filled with alarm.
But it was too late. The world around her spun wildly out of control, and Janice felt herself sinking into darkness as her legs gave way beneath her. The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was Rusty's anguished cry, echoing through the air like a mournful lament.