Chapter 11 #2
The last box was lighter. I opened it slowly, and tissue paper crinkled.
Inside was a pair of fuzzy socks in mint and pink stripes, a pack of plain pastel-colored panties, and a sleep set that looked too soft to be real: a tank top and matching pajama shorts with watercolor teddy bears and tiny bows.
There was also a little plastic bag with two new hairbrushes, pastel scrunchies, and sparkly hair clips.
I picked up a pink scrunchie and wrapped it around my wrist, then just stared at it, stunned.
This wasn’t charity. These were the things you bought for someone you thought about—a Little girl you wanted to take care of. These were things you bought for someone…
My stomach fluttered.
I didn’t even realize I was crying again until a fat tear landed on the pale blue t-shirt. I wiped it away quickly, then pressed the soft fabric to my face. I wanted to change immediately. Make myself cute, make myself…his.
But I hesitated. I was already wearing his clothes. Would it be too obvious if I changed into the Little clothes he’d bought before even saying yes to being his?
I stared at the sleep set. It was gorgeous. Maybe if I wore some of the regular clothes, like the hoodie and leggings, it would be less…needy.
I peeled off the t-shirt and sweats and tugged on the mint-colored star leggings, a t-shirt, and the pink hoodie.
The fabric hugged my legs like a second skin, the waistband soft and stretchy.
The hoodie was even better. It swallowed me up, the sleeves hiding my hands, the hem falling almost to my knees.
I looked utterly ridiculous and impossibly cute.
My throat felt tight. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, taking a shaky breath.
If I saw myself like this in a mirror, I’d never believe it was me.
This was what Littles wore. Not just the desperate, cheap stuff I’d hidden under my uniform, but real Little girl clothes.
The kind that said you belonged somewhere soft.
I couldn’t help it—I spun once, testing the feel of the fabric, then reached for a pair of the fuzzy socks and slipped them over my toes.
Instantly my feet felt warm, safe. Maybe…
maybe I could do this. Maybe I could be Little for Walker.
I smoothed my hand over the hoodie, then grabbed the bag of hair accessories.
A pink scrunchie for my hair, and a set of sparkly clips. I didn’t even know what I was doing but muscle memory took over and suddenly I’d wrangled my hair into a messy ponytail, clipped two pastel stars near my temple, and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
It was insane, how different I looked. Not sick, not fragile. Not broken. Just…new.
I nearly lost my nerve before I even made it out the bedroom door.
What if Walker thought it was too much? What if he thought I looked stupid?
I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing until the anxiety faded enough that I could breathe again.
Then I remembered what he'd said. That he wanted me as his Little girl.
That he wanted to see me exactly like this, and that he'd bought me these clothes in the first place.
My heart pounded.
I padded down the stairs, clutching Mr. Snuggles in one arm, my feet silent on the steps. The hoodie sleeves flopped over my hands, making me feel even smaller. Walker was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his phone in one hand and a mug in the other. He looked up as I entered.
For a split second, he just stared. His gaze swept from my fuzzy socks all the way up to my messy ponytail and the pink scrunchie. His eyes darkened, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. He didn’t say anything.
The silence stretched.
I froze, hugging Mr. Snuggles tighter. “Is it…too much?”
Walker set his mug down and came toward me, slow and controlled like he was trying not to scare a wild animal. He stopped in front of me, hands braced on the kitchen island, and looked me over again, this time slower.
“It’s perfect,” he said finally, voice gone rough. “You look perfect.”
I swallowed hard. My cheeks burned. “I just wanted to see if they fit. You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted you to,” he cut in, his tone absolute. “I wanted you to have things that were yours. Things that suited you. Not just hand-me-downs.”
Something in my chest cracked wide open. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He smiled at me then, like he’d just won a prize. “Let’s get moving, yeah? If we go now, we’ll miss traffic.” He handed me a bottle of water, then pulled a box towards him and opened it.
I nearly stopped breathing at the gorgeous sparkly sneakers, and couldn't find the words as he bent and put them on my feet, fastening the Velcro.
I was speechless, but he simply brushed a kiss on my head and took my hand.
I hugged Mr. Snuggles tighter, nodded, and followed him out to the garage. The scent of Walker’s cologne and clean laundry filled the air. It was overwhelming, how safe it made me feel, and I clung to that.
Walker had already unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for me.
I crawled in, knowing I needed to say something, but he just buckled me in without comment, kneeling down so he was eye level with me.
“You let me know if you get tired or need me to check your blood sugar,” he said, voice low and serious.
“No pushing yourself, understand?” I nodded again, heat rushing up my neck.
He was so close I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He didn’t look away.
"They're beautiful," I whispered, and he smiled.
The whole drive over, Walker kept checking on me.
“You doing okay?” he’d ask, and sometimes his hand would settle on my thigh, just heavy enough to ground me but not enough to make me nervous.
I sipped at the water dutifully, even so small a gesture making me feel cared for.
I didn’t know how to explain what that did to my insides.
The city blurred by outside. I rested my cheek against the window and drifted, lightheaded and floaty, but not in a bad way. More like I’d been untethered and Walker was the only thing holding me down.
When we pulled up to my building, the nerves hit. The neighborhood kids were kicking a soccer ball in the parking lot, shouting over the noise of a distant siren.
Walker got out first, scanning the lot before coming around to help me. “Take your time,” he murmured, holding the door open. He waited until I got Mr. Snuggles, then fell into step beside me up the cracked sidewalk.
He didn’t touch me, but he might as well have.
It felt like he was wrapped around me, a wall against everything outside.
Inside, the building was cold and smelled like bleach and boiled vegetables.
My heart hammered the whole way up the stairs, but Walker was right behind me, making me feel like nothing bad could happen as long as he was there.
When we reached my door, I hesitated. For a second, it was hard to breathe.Walker caught my hesitation and leaned in. “If you want, I can go in first.”
I nodded, pushing the keys into his hand. The way his big palm closed around mine made me feel tiny, but not weak. He opened the door, scanned the room, and stepped inside before I did. “All clear. Take your time.”
I inched in after him. The apartment looked exactly the same as before, maybe a little sadder in the daylight. The bed was still made. My one photo of my parents was right where I’d left it. But I shivered anyway, hugging myself as I stepped over the threshold.
Walker prowled the room, every movement careful and efficient. He checked the kitchen, the bathroom, every window and closet. He even crouched down to check for footprints on the bathroom tile. If he did it to make me feel better, it worked. He made the space smaller, somehow. Safer.
I hovered just inside the door, hugging Mr. Snuggles so tightly his stuffing crinkled. My hands were shaking. It was the same crappy apartment as always, but I could feel it—the wrongness, the way someone else’s attention lingered in every corner. Walker must have sensed it too.
He scanned my face before he said anything. “You want to sit down?”
The thought made my stomach twist. I shook my head. “I just want to get my things and go.”
He nodded. “Okay, princess.” Not a hint of mockery in his voice. He meant it. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Clothes, work uniform, my shoes. Toothbrush and the stuff in the medicine cabinet.” My voice trembled. “And my photo.”
He nodded again. “I’ll get the bathroom.”
It was so different, having someone help. Walker started carefully putting my things in the bag I’d brought. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, everything lined up neatly. He didn’t touch the used syringes in their ziplock bag, just zipped the whole thing inside a compartment like it was nothing.
I went to my dresser. Another shiver. The drawers were too neat, the clothes all folded.
I’d never folded my underwear like that, and the thought that someone else had touched them made me want to throw up.
It was almost worse than if someone had tossed the place.
I pulled out my work uniform, a couple pairs of jeans, two sweaters, underwear.
The rest was thrift store stuff I barely wore. I left it for now.
Walker’s footsteps were so heavy in the tiny apartment. I could hear him moving in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. “Anything from here?” he called.
“Just the Tupperware and maybe the coffee mug?” My voice barely carried, but he just grunted like he was used to listening for smaller voices.
He came back in, holding the mug and my sad little box of instant oatmeal packets. “If you want to clear out the fridge, now’s the time.” He was gentle, not bossy. “You don’t have to come back after this unless you want to.”