Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
IRISH
I rish stood frozen for a moment, his heart sinking at the sight of Makenzie retreating into the guest bedroom. He cursed himself silently for his harsh words, knowing he had pushed too hard. It took him a minute to gather his composure before he followed her into the room. He knocked on the door softly, “Mak? Can I come in?”
There was a moment of tense silence before he heard her small, muffled voice from within. “I don't know.”
Taking that as permission enough, Irish slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Makenzie lay curled up on the bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It damn near brought him to his knees seeing her like that.
Without a word, Irish crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against her arm in a gesture of comfort.
“Mak, baby,” he murmured softly, his voice gentle. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry for pushing so hard. I’d gut any rat bastard who made you sob like this, and never thought it would be me.”
She turned to face him, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, tears still glistening on her cheeks. “It's not you,” she whispered hoarsely. “It's me. I'm just...scared.”
Irish's heart clenched at her words, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest. He reached out, gently brushing away her tears with his thumb. “Scared? Scared of what, sweetheart?” He hoped it wasn’t him. He’d cut his own hand off before he’d hurt her.
Makenzie took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of being hurt again. Scared of...trusting someone and having it all fall apart. Scared of someone not listening when I say no.”
Irish's heart broke for her, the weight of her past pain heavy in the air between them. “Eugene?” The pain in her voice was enough to make him want to call Sean immediately and demand his head be presented to him on a platter.
“No, not Eugene. I don’t think he would ever hurt another person. He couldn’t even kill a spider,” she said with a bitter laugh.
“Then who? Who hurt you?”
“I’d like to give you his name, but I’m pretty sure he lied to me. The name he gave me was Joseph James.”
“Joseph James?” Irish asked. Joseph James was a well-known serial killer and rapist; did the man who hurt Makenzie know this? Was it an ironic guess? He didn’t know but it wasn’t important, not now. He moved up to sit behind Makenzie.
Spreading his legs, he pulled her to him, cuddling her back against his chest and ran his fingers through her hair. He listened silently as she poured out her fears, her voice trembling with emotion.
“You can tell me anything, baby girl,” he soothed, rubbing circles on her back.
“I was in a relationship before Eugene,” she confessed, her words coming out in a rush. “With a man I met online, but never in person... He called himself a Daddy. He said all the right things, just like you do. He told me everything I wanted to hear—that he cared about my safety and would protect me, that he would love me unconditionally. It was like he was reading from a script on how to get a Little to fall in love with you. And at first, he was the perfect Daddy. We talked every night, and I was convinced he was my prince charming right out of the best romance novel.”
He could hear the pain in her voice, and he wanted to take it all away. “But it was all lies. Everything he said was a lie.” She took a shuddering breath. “He loved controlling me and making me serve him and his needs. But he didn’t care about me. He was... He was selfish and abusive, Irish. He hurt me in ways I can't even begin to explain. He took my vulnerabilities and used them against me.”
“I'm so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You never deserved any of that. And you don't deserve to carry that fear with you now.”
Makenzie shook her head. “But I do, Irish. I carry it with me, every day. And I'm scared to let anyone else in, scared to trust again. He claimed to be a Daddy, but he wasn’t.”
Irish's heart clenched at her words. He reached down, cupping her face in his hands and forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Mak, baby,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’ve known me your entire life. I can't promise you that everything will be perfect. But I can promise you this: I will never hurt you. I will never let anyone else hurt you. I will cherish you, protect you, and love you with everything I have. And if you'll let me, when you are ready, I'll help you heal from the pain of your past. Unlike this anonymous asshole online who didn’t have accountability, Sean would kill me if I hurt you. You are right when you say he wasn’t a Daddy, but I am. I’m a Daddy who always puts my Little’s needs first.”
She turned in his lap, draping her legs across his and snuggled her head onto his chest. “For the last week, you’ve been testing me, haven’t you?”
“You noticed.”
“I noticed when you called me good girl and made dishes a Little would love. But, what if?—”
“What if what, Mak?”
“What if I’m not really a Little?”
There was no doubt in Irish’s mind that the girl in his lap was a Little. None. Not even a whisper of one. Trying not to laugh, he shook his head. He bopped her cute nose with his pointer finger. “Why would you think you aren’t?”
“It’s not that I think I’m not. It’s that I’m not sure being a Little is all I am.”
Was she a switch? He didn’t think so. There wasn’t a dominant bone in her body.
“What do you mean, baby?”
“I mean, I thought I was both a Little and a Middle, but Jamie, I mean, this girl I met online, she told me I can’t be both.”
“And who gave her the authority to make that call?”
“I guess… I did.”
“Here’s the thing, Mak. Consent can be withdrawn at any minute. You can withdraw your consent for her and her opinions to live rent free in your mind. Does she pay your bills?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“Does she sleep beside you in your bed? Make love to you at night?”
“Irish!”
“No, she doesn’t. She has no authority in your life and her opinion doesn’t matter. Kick her and the negative hold she has over your thoughts out.”
“I wish you were around when I met her. You know how sometimes people say they have an angel and a demon on each shoulder? She was like a demon, constantly trying to ruin my life. She didn’t just guide me in the wrong direction, she used others to hurt me. I get what you are saying, but, sometimes, her words echo in my mind telling me I’m worthless, not good enough…”
“Baby girl, you are a bright fucking shining light in this world and she’s nothing but an annoying gnat buzzing around the picnic table. Sometimes, icky bugs are drawn to the light, especially when it’s blazing in the dark. They fly around it and try to distract from its beauty. But you know what happens when those bugs get too close to the flame? They don’t extinguish it; they can’t hurt it. Nope. They get burned and die. Now, it’s time to let her hold on you and your thoughts go. For every negative accusation she hurled at you, I will replace with ten compliments.”
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “I got you, baby. I got you.” After a minute, she pulled back from him.
“What if I’m both then? Can someone be both a Little and a Middle?”
“Yes, absolutely. There are switches at The Citadel who are both dominant and submissive. Why don’t you tell me more? What ages are your Little and Middle?”
“Well, sometimes, I want to watch reruns of the Gilmore Girls , have a bit of an attitude, and flip my hair over my shoulders and other times, I want to watch Peppa Pig and Bo on the Go while cuddling a stuffy to my chest.”
“I see.”
“Is that bad?” She asked quietly. Irish heard her words, but he also heard what she wasn’t asking. Am I bad?
“No, baby. Your feelings aren’t bad, you aren’t bad.”
“Then what was the ‘I see’ about?”
“It was me processing what you said. I was thinking about all the ways I could spoil both my Little girl and my Middle girl.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And also, how the discipline would look.”
“Like no spankings when I’m a Middle?”
He chuckled at the hopefulness in her tone. “No, sweetheart. Middles get spankings too, if it works for them. Depending on the age of your Middle, you might get added chores, phone privileges taken away, an earlier bedtime…”
“Ugh.”
“There’s a solution to this you know,” he said gently.
“Not be in a DDLG relationship?” she asked, and he heard the concern in her tone.
“No. I was thinking not be a naughty girl who needs discipline.”
The forlorn look she gave him was almost his undoing. “I don’t think I know how to do that. I try to be a good girl, but?—”
“Don’t worry, Mak. I’ve never met a brat I couldn’t tame.”