Trace
The playroom was finished on a Sunday, exactly four months after Everett handed me a key with a rubber taco on it.
We decorated it slowly, like he'd done the rest of the house. Daddy didn’t want to just order everything in one giant haul because he wanted me to spend time in it and really figure out how I wanted to use it.
We painted the walls a warm buttery cream color that reminded me of ice cream.
Of course, I got more paint on myself than the roller, but making Daddy spend extra time in the bath cleaning every speck out of every crevice made it worth the mess.
The toy shelves were a bear with nothing but an Allen wrench in the box to use as a tool, but we figured it out. We even hung fairy lights in the corner for when we had sleepovers.
Everett took a few days off work and installed a locking cabinet high on the wall that he called the Daddy cabinet.
That was where he put the things that were his to manage.
Aftercare cream, cleaning supplies, and diapers.
They were originally for when Connor slept over, but after a bit of experimentation last weekend, they’ll be for me to use too.
The signature piece of the room arrived the day before. It was a toy chest made of real wood by a guy Everett found online. He commissioned the custom piece to have my name carved into the lid in rounded letters, and underneath, it said Daddy's Sweet Boy.
I cried when I saw it, so moved by how thoughtful Daddy was.
Everett just rubbed my back and reminded me that he loved me and would always think of me first. That’s what Daddies do.
Connor came over for the big reveal and took a full lap around the room before turning to Everett with his hands on his hips.
"Okay. I have an announcement." He pointed at the fairy lights.
"I called Trace a liar when he described this room to me, and I’m sorry about that.
I'm big enough to admit that I had no idea how awesome it could be.
I owe you a formal apology, and I would like scheduled visitation. "
"Every Saturday can be a sleepover night," Everett answered without hesitating. "It’s a standing invitation. We’ve even ordered another good blanket that’s just for you."
Connor's jaw actually dropped and his eyes misted. "The weighted sloth?"
"Bottom drawer, left side." Daddy winked at him and pulled me closer to his side. “You’re family, Connor. And we take care of our family.”
"Trace." Connor turned to me with wet eyes and swallowed. "If you don't marry this man, I will."
After that, we settled into a routine that was almost too good to be true.
I still had my apartment, but that was just because I needed to sell my furniture, and until my lease was up, there was no rush to clear it out.
But I rarely went back. Everything that was important to me had been moved into Everett’s house.
The house that I planned to share with him for the rest of my life.
The locked cabinet in the playroom quickly became my favorite place in the house.
Honestly, I never understood the appeal to wear diapers.
Connor made me try it a few times, but it was mostly to match him, not because I wanted to sit in my own piss.
But when Daddy asked whether I might want to try it with him, I promised to give it some consideration.
Even though it was embarrassing at first, I finally asked him why he wanted to try it out.
I wasn’t prepared for the speech he gave me about trust and surrender and being honored to handle the most vulnerable version of me.
By the time he was done explaining it to me, I'd cried because I knew I wanted to give that to him and felt bad for waiting so long.
The first night I let him diaper me, his hands were so careful and his voice was so steady that the shame I'd braced for never appeared.
Like with everything else, I just trusted him to have me…
and he did. There was no more room for shame or guilt or fear because Daddy filled it all up with his love.
Now it was just another special thing for us. We didn’t do it every night. But after a bad day or when I was overwhelmed and wanted to give it all to him, I did.
And he always accepted the responsibility.
Everett drove me to work most mornings even though it was out of his way, and Priya pretended to be annoyed by how happy I was, but she loved Everett almost as much as I did.
Something else was happening that I was almost afraid to say out loud because I didn’t want to jinx it. But I hadn't had a seizure since the one in the car.
When the one-month mark hit, I was confused.
I’d never gone a whole month before without a seizure.
Not in my whole life. Once a week was normal unless I was under stress and had them daily.
I’d gone two weeks a few times, but there was no real reason for that.
But a month was unheard of. When the calendar cruised past four weeks with no auras or need to rest, I told myself it was a fluke.
But after two months, Everett noticed me obsessing and asked me to share the worry with him. "You keep doing something with your calendar that’s upsetting you. Did I miss an anniversary?"
I looked up at him from under my lashes and whispered it so the karma gods didn’t hear. "I’ve been counting the days."
"What days?" He placed his hand on my knee and squeezed. “What am I missing?”
"You’re not missing anything.” I sighed and showed him the calendar. “But it’s been sixty-three days since my last seizure."
He didn't gasp or seem shocked at all. He just pressed a kiss to the top of my head and pulled me closer. “And…”
"You're counting too?"
"Baby, I've been counting since day one. I have a note in my phone. I just didn't want to make a big deal of it because I don’t want you to be upset if they come back."
Of course he was counting. He always knew what things were important enough that he needed to handle.
"I've been scared to say anything because I don’t want to jinx it." It sounded ridiculous when I said it out loud. "For my whole life, every time something good happened with my brain, it went away just as quickly. I don’t want to get our hopes up."
"Baby.” Everett rocked me in his arms, holding me together. “If they come back, we’ll deal with it. And if they don’t, we'll just keep counting."
After three months of counting, I needed answers. Dr. White had been my neurologist for six years, and I’d never once seen her look genuinely surprised the way she did when she scrolled through my chart. "Your last documented event was in March."
"March ninth." I knew the date the way other people knew birthdays. It was in the top ten most important days of my life. “Yes.”
"That's a hundred and eleven days." She put her tablet down and folded her hands. "Previously, your longest interval in six years of records is twenty-three days."
"I know." I sucked on my lips, trying not to get too excited.
"Are there any changes I should know about? Medication adjustments, sleep schedule, diet?"
"I’m still taking lamotrigine. The same dose for six years running. My sleep's actually better, and my diet's, um…" I thought about the dino nuggies. "Consistent."
She nodded as she looked at me. "Stress level?"
I glanced at Everett, sitting beside me with his hand wrapped around mine. A smile took over my face that was almost always there. "That one's changed a bit."
Dr. White looked between us and her expression softened.
"I’m going to be straightforward with you about what I can and can't tell you.
" She folded her hands and made sure I was fully paying attention.
"Medically, I don't have a clear explanation as to why they’ve stopped. Seizure disorders sometimes change over a lifetime. Frequency can shift as you get older, and in rare cases, you can experience spontaneous remission. We don't fully understand why, but stress is one of the most well-documented triggers that we know of, and you’ve always been stress sensitive. A significant, sustained reduction in stress could plausibly change your threshold. But I can’t promise this will last. It might, and I hope it does, but it might not.
I've been doing this a long time, and the honest answer is sometimes they just stop and we never know why. "
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it wasn’t bad news. "So what do I do?"
"Exactly what you're doing. Keep taking your medication, for now. We can evaluate in a year or so…and keep the bracelet on. None of your protocols should change." She glanced at Everett and then back to me. "But whatever is going on with you now, your nervous system clearly approves."
I needed some time to sit with that non-diagnosis, and Everett gave it to me. I barely spoke on the ride home until I was ready to talk it out with him. "So she really doesn't know why…"
He slipped his hand behind my neck and gently gripped me. "No, she doesn't."
"That’s weird, but I’m pretty sure I do.
" I turned in my seat to look at the man who had rebuilt my entire understanding of what being taken care of really meant.
"I've been sick my whole life, Ev. And because of that, I spent my whole life tense. Waiting for the next aura to come on. I couldn’t go anywhere without mapping the exits and clocking nooks I could sneak into if I needed a rest. I didn't realize how much of a toll that took on me until I didn’t have to do it anymore. "
He pulled into our driveway and shut off the engine so he could face me. His face held so much emotion, but he didn’t interrupt my thought process.
"And then you found me." My voice cracked, and I had to sniff back my runny nose. "Within that first month of being with you, my body figured out what my brain already knew. I didn’t have to do it alone anymore because you were there. You were looking out for me even when we weren’t physically together. Just knowing that somebody else was willing to carry the weight with me made it a thousand times lighter.” I took a deep breath to make sure I said it right without sounding naive.
“I'm not saying you cured me, because that's not how it works, but I genuinely believe that the seizures that should have gone away when I hit adulthood never did because I was still scared to be alone. Now I’m not scared. Now I’m not alone…and never will be again.” I shook out my shoulders and leaned back as if that was a physical effort to share.
“Anyway, that's my theory. It's not backed by any kind of science or medicine, but I'd bet my whole heart that it’s right. "
Everett didn't say anything for a long moment as his jaw worked and his eyes got misty.
When he finally reached over and pulled me across the console into his arms, his heart was beating hard enough that I could feel it through our shirts.
"That’s the best diagnosis I've ever heard.
" His voice was rough and thick as he nuzzled into my hair.
"Come on, sweet boy. Let's go inside. We’re home now. "
That night, after mac and cheese and a bubble bath, Daddy carried me to the playroom instead of the bedroom.
He settled into the comfy rocking chair under the lights with me in his lap and opened up a picture book. It was a new routine, but one of my favorites before bedtime because I loved hearing him read out loud in that sexy rumble he reserved just for me.
"Daddy?" I wasn’t asleep, but I felt floaty and safe curled up into him.
"Hm?"
"You gave me a hundred and eleven days."
His arms tightened around me, and his lips pressed into my damp hair.
"A hundred and twelve tomorrow, baby. And I'll be right here for every single one after that."
Next in the series…
Cord didn't take many shifts in his bar anymore. But when three of his staff call out, he has to go in and help with a private party.
Noah didn't want to go to his companies award ceremony. As the newest sales guy on the team, he wasn't getting any awards and he'd heard from the other guys it would be boring AF. But when the official event is over, the sales team all move to a bar across the street and things get wild.
Cord has never been particularly tolerant of obnoxious drunks, so when he sees a young guy practically being forced to get blackout wasted, he has to step in. Not just because he's liable for overserving, but because he can't turn away from someone in need.
Boot & Rally is part of the Blue Collar Daddies in the City series about tough guys who are looking for partners to love and protect. Each book is a standalone so you can jump in at any time but be sure to read them all so you don't miss any of these short and sexy instalove stories.
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