Chapter 3 #2
The honesty in his voice cracks something open in my chest. I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling my knees up.
"For me, I’m drawn to Daddy Dom dynamics for the emotional dynamics.
These power exchange relationships have trust and open communication.
When the two characters consent to allowing one to lead with consistent care, structure, affection and discipline, the other is free to be who she really is.
There’s something comforting about stability and protection from a partner.
Something thrilling about the give and take of rules and consequences. I don’t know…”
“I think you do know. You are making sense, sweetheart. All of that is why Daddy Dom relationships work. Is that something you are looking for? Something you want outside of the books you read? Or is it just a fantasy?”
“No one has asked me what I want before. I want... someone who sees me. Not the glitter and the smile that I put on for everyone, but the parts underneath. Someone who makes me feel—" I hesitate.
"Safe," he supplies quietly.
"Safe," I echo. "Safe to be who I am inside and wanted. Not despite being a lot, but because of it."
He's quiet for a beat. Then: "You think you're too much."
"I know I am. I'm loud and chaotic and I talk constantly and—"
"Holly."
The way he says my name stops me cold. Firm. Final. Warning.
"You're not too much," he says. "You're just surrounded by people who can't handle you."
The words land like a match in dry kindling. I stare at him, throat tight.
He crosses the room slowly, sits in the chair across from the bed. "I had a relationship like that once. The dynamic you're reading about. It ended badly."
"What happened?"
"She wanted the rules and structure, but not the honesty that comes with it. When things got real, she ran." He runs a hand through his hair. "I swore I wouldn't do it again. It's easier to control a business than a heart."
"That's sad," I say softly.
"It's safe."
"Safe isn't the same as happy."
His gaze sharpens. "And you're happy? Playing the cheerful elf while reading about submission in secret?"
I flinch, but don't look away. "No. But at least I'm trying."
The silence stretches between us, charged and raw.
Finally, he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "What would you do if you had someone who could handle you? All of you?"
My breath catches. "I don't know. I've never had the chance to find out."
"Maybe that's the problem. You keep waiting for permission to want what you want."
"And you keep waiting for everything to be perfect before you try."
He stares at me for a beat. "Stalemate."
"Not if we're both honest."
He studies me for a long moment. "You want someone to take care of you. To set the boundaries so you don't have to hold everything together alone."
I nod, throat dry.
"And I want..." He pauses. "Someone who trusts me enough to let go. Who doesn't run when things get complicated."
"I don't run," I say quietly.
"Prove it."
The challenge hangs in the air between us.
He stands and moves to sit beside me on the bed. He turns and looks at me. “Give me honesty, sweetheart. I won’t judge you.”
"Here's the truth," I say. "I've wanted this,” I nod towards the book, “the dynamic, the care, all of it, for years. But I was too scared to ask for it. Scared I'd be laughed at or told it was weird."
"It's not weird."
"Scared it would change how people saw me. Like I couldn't be sunshine and sparkle and also want someone to—" I stop.
"To what?"
I take a breath. "To tell me when I'm doing too much. To make me slow down. To take care of me when I forget to take care of myself. To spank me when I’m naughty. I know, it’s weak…"
Justin's expression softens. "That's not weakness. That's trust."
"I know that deep down. But knowing and believing are different things."
He nods slowly. "What if we tried something?"
My heart kicks. "What kind of something?"
"Honesty. For the rest of this weekend. No deflecting. No jokes to fill the silence. Just... what we actually want."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It is." He meets my eyes. "But I think we're both tired of pretending."
I glance at the window. Outside, the snow falls heavier, cocooning us in white.I don’t think we will be getting out of here anytime soon.
"Okay," I say finally. "Honesty. But you go first."
His mouth quirks. "I want to know what happens when you stop performing. When you let someone else hold the reins for a while."
Heat floods my cheeks. "That's very forward, Mr. Bell."
"You asked for honesty, Miss White."
The formal address shouldn't send shivers down my spine. But it does.
"Your turn," he prompts.
I swallow. "I want to know what you're like when you stop controlling everything. When you let yourself just... feel."
For a moment, neither of us moves.The wind howls against the window. And somewhere in the distance, the timer turns on and a string of Christmas lights flickers, casting colored shadows through the window.
"This is dangerous," I whisper.
"Yes," Justin agrees. "It is."
But neither of us looks away. The ringing of his phone breaks the silence, and he heads back to the office. I shake my head. What just happened? Later, it’s almost as if we didn’t have the conversation at all. We warm up some food and watch a movie on his laptop.
When I finally slide beneath the quilt later that night, the book is still on the nightstand, no longer hidden, no longer shameful. Just there. I text the group before sleep pulls me under.
Me: I think I'm in trouble.
Madison: GOOD trouble?
Me: The kind that feels like falling and flying at the same time.
Lily: That's the BEST kind of trouble.
Chloe: We're gonna need details tomorrow.
Me: If I survive it.
I close my eyes, and for the first time in a long while, I don't feel foolish for wanting more than a vanilla relationship.
I just feel... seen.