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"You're welcome, honey," she replied with a gentle smile. She caught my eye over Matty's head and mouthed, "Talk later," before quietly excusing herself.
For the next hour, I just held Matty as he sipped his tea and clutched Patches. He didn't speak much, and when he did, it was in that same childlike voice—simple questions, basic observations. He seemed to have retreated into himself, finding safety in a more innocent mindset.
I'd seen this before—not exactly the same, but similar reactions in soldiers after particularly traumatic combat experiences, the mind protecting itself the only way it knew how. But this was different. This wasn't just shock or PTSD—this was a regression to a headspace where he felt safe.
Daisy came back with the doc just as Matty was nodding off, his head on my shoulder, both of us stretched out on the sofa. Doc Jennings was a grizzled older man with kind eyes and a gentle touch. He approached quietly, assessing the situation with a practiced gaze.
"Let's not wake him if we can help it," he whispered, kneeling beside us. "Sleep's the best medicine right now."
I nodded, careful not to disturb Matty's head on my shoulder. "He's been through hell the last two days. Two attempts on his life."
Doc frowned, taking Matty's wrist to check his pulse and then his blood pressure. "Blood pressure's low, but not dangerously so. Pulse is a bit rapid." He opened his medical bag and pulled out a stethoscope, listening to Matty's breathing. "Lungs are clear. That's good."
"He's not... himself, but he displays Little tendencies normally when he relaxes," I said quietly, not sure how to explain what I was seeing.
Doc's eyes met mine with understanding. "It's a coping mechanism, particularly in individuals who've experienced severe trauma. The mind retreats to a safer, simpler state." He studied Matty's sleeping face. "Has he done this before?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "We've only been married a few days." The words felt strange on my tongue—both true and not true at the same time.
Doc nodded thoughtfully. "I'll leave you some mild sedatives if he gets agitated. Otherwise, just keep him calm, warm, and secure. Let him stay in this headspace as long as he needs to. Forcing him out could do more harm than good."
"I don't know anything about taking care of someone like this," I confessed, feeling suddenly out of my depth.
The doc met my gaze and smiled. "Yeah, you do, Bear. Just follow his lead," Doc advised, packing up his bag. "He'll let youknow what he needs. Be patient, be consistent, and above all, be gentle." He put a small bottle of pills on the night stand. "Only if absolutely necessary. Call me if you're concerned or if anything changes."
After Doc left, I carefully adjusted our position so I could stretch out better, tugging a throw over us. He stirred briefly, mumbling something unintelligible before settling back into sleep, Patches still clutched to his chest.
I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. This wasn't what I'd signed up for. My plan had been simple—marry Matty, help him secure his trust fund, use my position to gather dirt on Coombes, and finally get justice for my parents. I hadn't planned on someone trying to kill him. I hadn't planned on feeling this fierce protectiveness. And I certainly hadn't planned on him calling me "Daddy."
Well, no, that wasn't true. I expected mildplayat being a Daddy. Just another word for being protected. Something light. Much to my shame, I hadn't given it any thought. I was playing a role. A means to an end. How hard could it be?
I needed to get my head out of my ass and take looking after Matty seriously, starting with how that fucker ever managed to get in the compound. I hoped Jono had answers.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Carefully extracting it without disturbing Matty, I checked the message from Cruise.
Our guest is ready to talk whenever you are. Prez's handling it for now.
I typed a quick reply.
Stay with him. I can't leave Matty right now.
Understood. Bad news though. Tik Tac was jumped from behind at the door, and the remote alarms didn't sound. Looks like we've got a breach somewhere else. No one let him in the front gate
I stared at the message, a cold fury building in my chest. Not only had someone tried to kill Matty, but they'd infiltrated the club's security to do it. This wasn't just about Coombes anymore—this was personal. Someone had violated my home, my safe space.
I texted furiously.Find the leak. Now.
On it. Digger's checking cameras. I'll keep you updated.
I set the phone down and looked at Matty's sleeping face. In sleep, he looked younger, more vulnerable. The defensive mask he usually wore was gone, leaving only the soft curves of his features. Something protective and tender unfurled in my chest—something I hadn't felt in a very long time.
My thumb gently traced his cheekbone, and he leaned into the touch with a small sigh. Patches was tucked securely under his chin, one worn ear caught between Matty's lips. The sight made my throat tighten with an emotion I couldn't name.
We stayed like that for hours, Matty sleeping fitfully while I kept watch. At one point I took him to the bathroom, but he'd barely been aware of it. Occasionally he'd whimper or twitch, caught in some nightmare, and I'd stroke his hair or murmur reassurances until he settled again. It was nearly dark when he finally stirred, his eyes fluttering open slowly.
For a moment, he just stared at me, confusion evident in his gaze. Then awareness returned—but not completely. His eyes remained wide and childlike, his expression open in a way I hadn't seen before.
"Daddy?" he whispered, his voice small and uncertain.