Chapter 8
eight
EMILY
If Knee Time was unexpectedly easy, then journaling is unexpectedly hard.
Sometimes when I journal, I just sit down and the words flow out like water from the tap.
Other days, not so much. I remember reading Tarzan in high school.
When Tarzan’s teaching himself to read—as unlikely as that actually is—he thinks the words are bugs on the page.
That’s how I feel about words today: they’re bugs on the page, scrambling around with all their little legs going every which-way and not making any sense at all.
I tap my pen against the smooth paper and write a hasty line.
The more I love my daddy, the more I can love him.
Ugh, wriggling bugs. That doesn’t make sense and it’s not what I’m trying to say.
I scratch through the line. I don’t erase it or scratch it out so thoroughly Logan can’t read it, because Daddy likes to see the evolution of my thoughts.
But it’s not right. Rubbing the sore spots in my side where the diaper pin punctures are healing and shifting on the very sore spots I’m sitting on, I try again.
The more I love my daddy, the more capacity I have for love.
That’s closer but it’s not about capacity. My chest is already much too small to contain all my adoration.
It’s about depth.
The more I love my daddy, the deeper my love gets.
That’s right. It’s not my most elegant turn of phrase but maybe that’s good. My feelings transcend words. Their expression should be raw.
I put my pen aside and pull out my sticker box. I go through my collection one by one, trying several combinations on the page before settling on a combination of hearts, a skull with a rose, a black cat, and the Batman logo.
Daddy likes puzzling out what the stickers in my journal mean. He usually figures them out. When he doesn’t, I don’t enlighten him. Daddy likes little mysteries.
I wiggle in my chair. My butt’s so-so-so sore. Belphegor is an evil, evil, evil paddle that must be destroyed. Sable, who is lying on the table, trying to worm his way onto the journal so I pay attention to him instead of writing in it, looks up at me and purrs.
I put my face down to his and kiss between his ears. “You’re awesome, boy but Daddy’s a little bit awesomer. Not much. You’re the most awesome kitty in the world. But Daddy’s Daddy. He’s hard to top.”
“That’s good to hear, baby doll,” Daddy says, strolling into the kitchen through the open door to his office. Master Mac’s a step behind him, looking extremely bleary after a scene last night that went late. He mumbles something about dinner I pretend not to hear before he stumbles upstairs.
If I’m speedy, I might have dinner prepared before he wakes up. Mwahaha.
Daddy makes tea and brings two cups over to where I’m sitting. He puts both cups down in front of him as he sits at the breakfast table across from me. He blows into one cup several times before testing it with his pinkie and passing it to me.
“Ta, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It looks like Mac and I are going to have to stake-out Sacrum to see if we can catch this thief.”
“Really? What about all the cameras you installed?”
He seemed so sure the cameras would work. I know he even gave the club extra cameras on his own dime, because he asked me what I thought before he did it and I encouraged him if it would give everyone at Sacrum peace of mind.
“One caught an image of someone in a black hoodie. All the rest were disabled with electrician’s tape.
Out of my own damn bag. Joker’s B didn’t do any damage to them, just stood under each one and put a piece of tape over the lens, without getting caught in any of the overlapping fields of view.
I swear, baby doll, it’s like she watched me install them.
She knew exactly where each camera was.”
“Could she have watched you install them?”
“I have no idea how. I was alone in the hallways most of the time.”
“Spooky, Daddy.”
He nods but the frowny doesn’t leave his face.
“I know you and Bren think Joker’s B is harmless but I’m not comfortable with you coming on the stakeout, baby. This isn’t a sexist thing, even though I know you and Brenna think I’m a caveman. I just can’t take any risks with your safety. Can you understand that, sweetheart?”
I bite back my smile. Bren and I discussed our respective Dom’s caveman tendencies a great deal after a business rival and two of his Neo-Nazi friends attacked her before Halloween.
Brenna’s a kickboxer and they got the surprise of their lives when she turned the tables on them.
That wasn’t enough for our Doms. Daddy and Mac and some of Mac’s biker friends tracked down the bad guys and made sure they would never bother Brenna again.
Daddy won’t tell me what happened but Bren found out that bones were broken. More bones were broken.
I slip out of my chair, kneel next to Daddy’s, and put my arms around his waist. “I know you’ll keep me safe. I’ll be sad that you’re away overnight but I’ll be fine. Brenna’s here. And I could have a Littles’ Army sleepover.”
Daddy groans. “We need to talk about this Littles’ Army thing, Emmy. I don’t approve of militarizing your playgroup.”
“Militarizing is a strong word, Daddy. And you said I should make friends. Sammi, Yummy, Aggie, Cynnie, and Amy are becoming really good friends. Littles’ Army is just what we call our friend circle. Like a boy band, only for littles.”
Logan rubs the bridge of his nose. “Baby—”
“Master Mac is having T-shirts made, Daddy. Think of how disappointed he’d be if we didn’t wear them?”
“Okay but promise me no more glitter bombs. I’m still picking glitter out of places it has no business being.”
It’s hard to keep a straight face because I’m particularly proud of that prank. Daddy tried to give Max a lesson in spanking technique. Cynnie and I—very coincidentally and purely in celebration of National Glitter Day—had glitter packets in our back pockets.
Glitter really does get into strange places when ejected from pockets at high speed.
I unwind my arm from Daddy’s waist so I can hold out my pinkie. “Promise.”
He shakes my pinkie and pecks a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You can have a sleepover as long as Brenna agrees to supervise and Max can monitor you. I’m not sure what his schedule will be like after he’s landed.”
“Could it be someone other than Max? Sammi’s still very angry at him.”
“Because Max scuttled your butts on the fainting mini-goat escapade, yes, I know. Don’t think the caregivers haven’t been talking about that a great deal, little girl.”
I have to duck my head to hide my grin. “You said you weren’t angry about Harry-the-Mini-Goat, Daddy. The bad scientists were experimenting on him.”
Daddy wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. I burrow my face into the curve of his shoulder. “I’m not angry about rescuing Harry. I’m concerned you didn’t bring the situation to me. This is the sort of thing that Daddy helps his little girl with.”
“I would have if Max had refused to drive. We were still in the planning stage of the rescue, Daddy.”
“I accept that, sweetheart but I want it to be very clear that if you ever get to the execution stage of another of the Littles’ Army’s crackpot schemes without involving me, there will be punishment.
You could have been arrested for trespassing on private property and stealing a goat, baby. That’s not okay.”
“I promise it wouldn’t have gotten that far without me telling you. Promise-promise.”
Logan gives a long-suffering sigh. Poor Daddy.
“As long as we’re clear. I know Sammi is planning some sort of revenge on Max. Jack’s monitoring Sammi’s messages. I’m telling you right now, baby girl, that’s not a ball you want to start rolling.”
I tip my head back so Logan can see my face. “I’ve been staying out of that. I know Sammi is angry at Max. I’m not. I understand why he told the daddies. I really was about to bring it to you once Cynnie said Max wouldn’t drive. I’m not part of any revenge plan. Cross my heart.”
Daddy kisses my forehead. “That’s a good girl. I want you to have friends and do fun things with them.”
“You just want me to be smart about our shenanigans. I understand, Daddy. I can have fun in a safe way. Promise.”
He cuddles me against his side. “That’s right, sweetheart. I trust you, you know I do. I just have to know you’re safe. Getting arrested upstate for trespassing and goat-napping is not safe.”
I give him a squeeze before slipping back into my own seat, because my knees are getting ouchy. There’s no rug under the breakfast table the way there is under our big dinner table and kneeling on the hardwood floor is double-tough.
As soon as I’m back in my seat, I stretch my hand across the table. Daddy folds his big, warm paw around it.
“I promise to be safe, Daddy. You promise to be safe, too. No more hits to the head.”
Logan nods. “That’s why I’m taking Mac with me. No ops without backup. That’s the new rule.”
It’s a good rule, given Logan’s injuries over the last six months.
He’s recovered really well. He says he feels stronger and healthier than he did before the evil massage man broke his skull.
Or after Rick-the-Dick aggravated his injury by punching him in the face.
He can carry and toss me around the way he did before he was hurt, and, crazily, I think his stamina is even better than it was.
But repeated head injuries are a bad idea by anyone’s estimation.
Max and Mac have promised me they’ll never let Daddy be hurt like that again.
I trust them but I’m glad to hear they’re putting rules in place.
“And don’t be too harsh on Joker’s B if you catch her?” I ask.
“Baby, I know you think she’s not malicious but she’s creating chaos at Sacrum. It has to stop.”