19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Dion
I checked my watch for the third time in ten minutes, counting down until I could reasonably disappear from Salvation's open Little night.
The main floor was packed with Daddies, Mommies, and their Littles—some in full regalia, others dressed more casually but still clearly in their headspace.
Laughter and conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional squeal of delight from the Little room.
Even the thought that we were finally free of Rice and his machinations didn't bring me the relief it should.
"You look like you'd rather be anywhere else," Walker observed, appearing beside me with two bottles of water. "Which is saying something, considering you've been a ghost for four weeks."
I accepted the water but didn't respond.
He wasn't wrong. Being here, surrounded by happy couples living the dynamic I knew I couldn't have, felt like torture.
Every time I saw a Daddy feeding his Little, or heard someone use the title I'd grown to love hearing from Emily's lips, something twisted in my chest.
"Maddox said Emily's been asking about you," Walker continued, his tone carefully neutral.
"Maddox needs to mind his own business," I replied, scanning the crowd with professional detachment. Security was my excuse for being here, and I intended to stick to it.
Walker studied me with the persistence of a man who'd spent years reading people for a living. "You know, for someone who claims to want her to be happy, you're doing a pretty good job of making sure she isn't."
"She's better off—"
"Without you. Yeah, you've mentioned that." Walker's voice carried an edge of irritation. "What you haven't mentioned is why you get to make that decision for her."
But Walker didn't seem like he needed a reply because a Little girl who deserved a spanking for running when she should have walked tripped over the corner of a chair and went flying.
We both took a step forward, as she seemed to be on her own, but funnily enough it was Walker who beat me to her, scooping her up and sitting her on the errant chair, immediately checking her over for potential life-threatening injuries while her tear-laden blue eyes stared at him in wonder.
I would have smiled had I any feeling in me other than despair that our partner often had to be dragged to any Little events kicking and screaming seemed just as enamored. I scoffed. Must be catching.
Before I could respond, Gideon's voice crackled through my earpiece. "Dion, we need you upstairs. There's been an issue with one of the private rooms."
I welcomed the distraction, grateful for an excuse to escape Walker's interrogation. "On my way."
The elevator ride to the upper level felt endless. These floors housed the more exclusive spaces—private playrooms, intimate theme areas, and tonight, the overflow areas for the open night since the main Little room had reached capacity.
I stepped out to find Gideon waiting, but something in his expression made me pause. He looked... guilty.
"What's the issue?" I asked, immediately on alert.
"Room Seven," he said, not quite meeting my eyes. "You need to handle it personally."
I frowned. "What kind of issue requires—"
"Just go," he interrupted, already backing toward the elevator. "And Dion? Sometimes the best security is letting someone in."
Before I could question him further, the elevator doors closed, leaving me alone in the hallway. I stared at Room Seven's door, a feeling of unease creeping up my spine. Something wasn't right.
Cautiously, I approached and knocked. No answer. I tried the handle—unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.
The room was dimly lit, soft music playing from hidden speakers. It wasn't one of our typical Little spaces, but rather a quiet lounge area with comfortable seating and a small kitchenette. And sitting in one of the plush armchairs, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, was Emily.
My breath caught. She wore a pair of bright blue overalls. Her gorgeous hair was pulled into two braids, and a sparkly ribbon with two fluffy pom poms was attached to each one. She'd kicked off her shoes, her bare feet tucked beneath her. She looked beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly terrified.
"Hi," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I remained frozen in the doorway, torn between the desperate need to go to her and the conviction that walking away was the kindest thing I could do. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you." She stood, smoothing her clothes with nervous hands. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Gideon didn't give me much choice," I replied, my voice harsher than intended. "He said there was a security issue."
"There is." Emily stood and took a tentative step toward me. "Me. I'm trying to compromise your security. Your walls. Your defenses."
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. "Emily—"
"Please," she interrupted. "Just listen. I've been practicing this speech for two weeks, and if you interrupt, I might lose my nerve."
Against my better judgment, I nodded, closing the door behind me but remaining near it.
Emily took a deep breath. "I've been seeing Dr. Anna Reeves.
She's helped me understand some things about myself that I've been running from my whole life.
" She paused, gathering courage. "I grew up believing that needing someone was weakness.
That vulnerability was something to be hidden, buried so deep no one could find it and use it against me. "
I stayed silent, though her words echoed painfully.
"Then I met you," she continued, her voice strengthening. "And you saw those parts of me anyway. The parts that sometimes need guidance, care, protection. The parts that want to be treasured and safe. And it terrified me."
She moved closer, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, the slight tremble in her hands.
"I pushed you away because I was scared of how much I needed you.
Not because you were too controlling or too protective, but because you made me feel things I'd been taught were weakness.
" Her voice broke slightly. "And then I did something incredibly stupid, and instead of admitting how I felt, how important you are to me, I ran to prove I didn't need you, and it nearly got us both killed. "
A tear slipped down her cheek, and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to brush it away. "You took two bullets for me, Dion. You saved my life, and then you disappeared. And I've spent every day since then trying to understand why."
I clenched my jaw, fighting to maintain control. "I thought I was doing what was best for you."
"By deciding what I needed without asking me?" she challenged, her eyes flashing. "By taking away my choice?"
The accusation hit its mark. "I failed you, Emily. I pushed you into a dynamic you weren't ready for and drove you straight into danger."
"Is that what you think happened?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Dion, I didn't leave because you were too controlling. I left because I was terrified of how much I wanted what you were offering." She huffed. “I just have a shitty way of saying that.”
I stared at her, struggling to process her words.
"I've spent my whole life being strong," she continued, her voice softening. "Making the hard choices, fighting for everyone else. And then you came along and showed me I could let someone else carry that weight sometimes, and that doesn’t make me weak. That I could still be valued."
She closed the distance between us, stopping just short of touching me. "I don't want someone who never sets boundaries or makes decisions when I'm overwhelmed. I want you. Exactly as you are."
Hope flickered dangerously in my chest. "What about when I'm overprotective? When I need to keep you safe, even if it means making decisions you don't like?"
"Then we talk about it," she said simply. "I promise to listen, to consider that you might see dangers I don't. And you promise to remember that I'm capable and strong, even when I'm letting you take care of me."
"And if you still disagree?"
She reached out, her fingers hovering just above the spot where the first bullet had torn through my shoulder. "Then I have to trust you not just to keep my body safe, but my heart as well."
I swallowed, words failing me, my heart pounding so hard it threatened to crack my ribs.
"I missed you," she whispered, her composure finally cracking. "Every day, every night. I couldn't sleep without you. Couldn't think straight. I kept reaching for you in the middle of the night."
The confession broke something inside me. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and gathered her into my arms. She came willingly, pressing her face against my chest as her arms wrapped around my waist.
"I missed you too," I admitted, burying my face in her hair. "Every second. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting you go."
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Don't ever do that again. If you need space, take it. But don't disappear on me."
"I won't," I promised, my voice rough with emotion. "I just... I couldn't bear the thought of you staying with me out of gratitude or obligation."
"Gratitude?" Emily shook her head, a hint of frustration crossing her features. "Dion Blackwood, I'm not here because you saved my life. I'm here because I love you."
The words hung between us, fragile and perfect. I stared at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt or hesitation. There was none.
"Say it again," I whispered, needing to hear it, to know it wasn't my imagination.
Her expression softened. "I love you. Not just parts of you—all of you. The protector, the warrior, the Daddy. Everything."
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized she'd shed. "I love you too, Emily. More than I thought possible."