Chapter 16
Grizzly
The minute I got home, I went on a cleaning spree. My house was never truly messy. But with such an important conversation looming, I had a lot of extra energy I needed to get rid of.
I straightened the living room first. Then I wiped down the kitchen counter and made sure there were no dishes in the sink. After I felt okay about things, I sat down on the couch only to stand back up five minutes later because I needed something to do with my hands.
By six forty-five, the house was as clean as it was going to get, and I had run out of things to straighten. Standing in the kitchen, I shook out my hands as I bounced on the balls of my feet. It was now or never.
A knock at the front door made me whip my eyes to the clock. He was early.
Crap.
I was choosing to interpret this as eagerness rather than pressure. Paxton hadn’t forced me to invite him. He hadn’t even said he knew about my secret. Sure, it was implied in his actions. That didn’t mean he was pressuring me though.
I let out a slow breath to calm down before I went to answer it. The minute I swung the door open, my nervousness flew out the window.
Paxton stood on my porch with two paper bags from the seafood place on the corner of Fifth that I had mentioned once in passing a few days ago. It wasn’t often I indulged there because spicy food could lead to heartburn.
The fact that he remembered meant a lot to me.
He had on a plain gray shirt, a pair of track pants, and his familiar ball cap. Lifting his hands, he said, “Hey, there. Can I come in?”
I startled once I realized I had been staring instead of inviting him in. “Yes, please! So sorry. I was… distracted.”
He chuckled softly as he passed me. I blushed at the sound, knowing it was because I basically admitted to ogling him.
I followed him as he went straight to the kitchen with the bags.
He pulled containers out while I got plates and cutlery.
We moved around the kitchen with a naturalness that should have felt strange given that he had never been this deep in the house before.
Instead, it felt like the most ordinary thing in the world. Like we’d been doing it for years.
With plates in hand, we settled at the kitchen table. He had gotten enough food for a small army. Or maybe a baseball team. Inside, I giggled at the joke.
I suspected the choice was less about misjudging the quantity and more about wanting to make sure I had extras.
Surprisingly, I ate more than I had expected to. The knot in my stomach was gone, giving me the chance to enjoy each delicious bite.
Paxton didn't push. He talked about small things as we ate. A funny interaction he'd had with a neighbor that morning, a joke his dad had texted him, a question about the team's practice schedule he thought I might know.
The easy conversation that didn't require anything heavy from me. I was grateful for it even though I knew what was coming. He was giving me the space to get there in my own time.
When we finished, I cleared the containers away. He refilled both of our glasses of water, then dropped back into his chair. I joined him, looking at my hands for a moment.
"Macular degeneration," I said.
It wasn't how I’d planned to start. A structured approach that built context first and gave him information in a logical order was the original goal. What came out instead was much more abrupt.
Paxton, who’d been taking a sip of his water, set his glass down slowly, his eyes pinned on me. He didn't say anything at first. And best of all, his expression held no judgment.
"It's a disease that affects the central part of the retina," I continued. "The macula. Which means my central vision will deteriorate. What's directly in front of me gets harder over time. I've known for a while now. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you."
"You’ve known for a while?" There wasn’t a hint of anything to tell me how he was taking this news. Was he mad? Did it make him not want to be my Daddy anymore?
"Mmhmm. Since the first day we spoke. I had an appointment right after. My doctor gave me the news there, but I passed out. She later called me to go over it more."
His face went through a series of expressions. Almost like he was living out the timeline of things, of us, in comparison to my diagnosis.
"I have three to five years before significant central vision loss, depending on how the progression goes.
There are treatments that can slow things.
I have a follow-up scheduled. It isn't a guarantee either direction.
" I paused, gathering the nerve for what I needed to say next. "There is a possibility I could be classified as legally blind at some point. I’ll be significantly impaired in the center of my field of vision, meaning no driving or anything where I’d need to see clearly. "
Paxton paused before saying, "Are you scared?"
The question tore the breath right out of me. I’d prepared for questions about the medical specifics or about my business. Possibly even about what it meant practically. I’d not prepared for that one.
"I'm scared of losing the ability to work. Of not being able to do the job the way I've built it. I'm scared of being too much. Of someone deciding that the accommodation isn't worth the person on the other side of it."
"Baby," he groaned.
Ignoring the way the sound sent heat through me, I forged ahead. "I know what I look like from the outside. The size of me, the job I do. People expect me to be the one who carries things. The idea that I might need to be carried isn't an easy sell in a relationship."
He leaned forward, forearms on the table, gaze locking me in place. "I'm not scared."
My jaw dropped. It was unavoidable. The man was far too casual for such an immense statement.
"I want you to hear me, baby. I’m not pretending or making promises I don't understand the terms of.
I'm telling you I’ve known something was going on for a while now, and in the time I've been figuring it out, I've felt a lot of things.
Scared was never one of them." He held my gaze. "It’s been more so a need to understand it. I had a desire to make it known you didn’t have to carry it by yourself anymore. "
I looked at him across the table. Compelled by my need to verify things, I started in on what I knew.
"How long have you been researching this?"
"A while. Because I needed to understand what you were dealing with before I could be the person you needed. So I learned all I could through medical journals, news articles, and Reddit posts." He tilted his head. "I have strong opinions about door handles now, if that's helpful."
Laughter burst out of me at his serious tone. I pressed my lips together to attempt to halt any more. This wasn’t a laughing matter.
Then I took a slow breath so as to not cry, though it was still a big possibility.
"You didn't say anything. While you were doing all this research," I managed.
He sat upright. "It wasn't mine to say. It was yours. I just wanted to make sure that when you were ready, nothing about it would be harder than it had to be."
Silence descended at his confession. Outside, the neighborhood was full of noise. Someone's dog barking happily, a car going down the street, the distant sound of voices shouting. Inside, it was just the two of us trapped in a standoff of emotions.
"I’ve spent a long time believing that the parts of me that needed support would be the parts that made me unlovable."
"I’ve picked up on that," he said.
"I don't know how to stop believing that all the way. Not yet."
"That's okay. You don't have to have it figured out. That's what I'm here for."
We sat with that for a moment. Then he gently told me, "You look tired, Grizzly."
My breath came out in a choked laugh. This time I didn’t try to hide it. "I cleaned the house like a mad man this afternoon. I was so nervous to tell you that I had to do something."
"I figured it was probably along those lines." He looked at me with a warmth that I could feel from across the table. "Come sit with me on the couch. Bring whatever you need to be comfy."
I knew what he meant. At least I thought I did. Warmth moved through me as I pictured what was to come. I looked at him for a moment to make sure I was reading it right. He gave me a barely there nod of confirmation.
"Give me a minute.” I held up a finger, then spun away.
Wells was on the pillow where he’d laid claim. He’d become a safety net for me. The constant that helped me rest easy at night. I picked him up, holding him tight to my chest. I could feel my Little side coming forward already.
That’s just how easy it happened now. It wasn’t anything I had to force.
Paxton had moved to the couch like he said he would. He was settled in the corner of it, one arm along the back, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, taking up space with a mix of dominance and an open, welcoming vibe. When he saw me come in with Wells, his whole face lit up.
He didn't say a word about the bear. He just patted the spot beside him.
I eased down, unsure what to do next. He shifted his arm from the back of the couch to land on my shoulders. I felt the weight of it settle over me.
My heart sped up at the connection. It shouldn’t have been this natural. Shouldn’t have been this easy.
Yet I felt like we’d been doing this all along. Like my body was actually meant to settle against his.
I tucked Wells tighter to my chest, sinking deeper into Paxton's side. All the worries of the day fell away. Big me was happy to step back for Little me to take the lead.
"There you are," Paxton said softly. It wasn’t at all what I expected him to say.
"Here I am," I replied, voice smaller than my usual one.
His arm pulled me in even closer, though I wasn’t aware there was room to do so. It felt like I was practically on top of him.
We stayed like that awhile, neither of us saying much. Paxton hummed softly as his fingers stroked along my shoulder. It added to the comfort of it all.
I wanted every night to be like this. Wanted him to hold me like I was the most precious person in his world.
The lamp was on in the corner, casting everything in the warm glow of the new bulb he’d bought for me. He hadn’t stopped at adjusting things for me at the office. And though others might have seen it as a touch invasive, I didn’t mind.
Wells was soft under my chin. Paxton was warm against my side. I was in paradise.
"Does this feel okay?" he asked after a while.
"It fweels wike a dream. I seended myself here, on the comfy with my Daddy to lay on a whole bunches."
"Yeah?" He sounded like he was smiling.
"I used to go to playroom and dwraw it. Dwraw you.” I paused, working out the words that felt too big. "I be small. Daddy like it. He no think silly."
He shivered, then put his mouth against the side of my head.
"I want to be that. If you'll let me, baby. It would be a dream come true for me too."
I turned my face to his chest and took a big sniff. His scent made my bones melt.
"Yes, please, Daddy." I felt him go very still beside me.
"Grizzly." His voice was really, really deep. Like a big growl. "I need you to know that I’ve been trying to be patient, baby. It’s hard as hell given how tempting you are. But I’m so glad I waited, because this—" He stopped.
I could feel his breath slow down, like he needed a minute.
"You trusting me tonight is the best thing to ever happen to me.
Better than baseball and getting signed. Better than moving to Bellport."
“Gwood!" I clapped happily.
He did a big laugh. It moved through his chest, shaking me too. I closed my eyes, happy I made Daddy happy.
We went quiet again after that. I closed my eyes, thinking of the next step. I needed to tell him what I wanted. To make it official.
“Paxi,” I whispered.
"Mmmm?"
"I want you be Daddy. I want whole thing you."
He froze for long enough that I began to worry he’d changed his mind. But then he moved. His hand slid up my shoulder and to the back of my neck, grip firm as he tugged for me to tilt my face up.
"You've got me, baby. Every part. For as long as you want me." He pressed his lips to my forehead. "My boy."
I sighed at the two words. They felt so right. God, I needed to get myself together or I’d start bawling. How was this real? How did I have someone so perfect wanting all of me?
Daddy started humming again, this time in a tune that was much brighter than the first. It let me know how happy he was without us needing to speak.
I drifted in and out of consciousness as we sat there. My Little mind was imaging all these ideas of the future—playdates, shopping trips for stuffies and blankies, and letting him take care of everything.
The room turned dark as more time passed. I wasn’t worried about it at all. Daddy would tell me when we had to move. He’d tell me when to eat and, hopefully, even tell me when I needed to go to bed.
When he did speak, he didn’t say any of those things at all. Instead, he quietly said, “I’m overwhelmed.”
"Gwood or bad?"
"Good, baby. Nothing about us is bad. It’s just… I kept telling myself to be patient, and now you're here, and I… I'm not sure I have words for how damn happy I am. I can’t seem to contain my emotions."
"Don’t, Daddy. I wike happy," I offered.
He groaned. "Yeah, baby? My boy likes knowing how happy Daddy is?"
I bounced my head up and down really fast before tucking my nose against the top of Wells's head, suddenly shy about it all.
"I'm going to be here," Daddy said softly, more to the room than to me. "Whatever the future looks like, I'll be here. I just need to keep my boy. That's all I need."