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He ducked his head so I could attach them. His nose twitched. “Woof!”

“Yes, pup, you look beautiful.” I sat on the edge of the bed. I fingered the bag of treats. “These are still your favorites?”

Enthusiastic nodding that nearly dislodged the ears.

I chuckled as I righted them. “And I remember you had a preference for squeaky toys over balls—although sometimes I could convince you to play with both.”

He blinked several times.

“I remember, Buttercup. I remember everything about you. I treasured every moment I had with you.” I missed the simplicity of our time at the club. I knew how to make pups feel good and safe. I didn’t feel nearly as confident in dealing with the complexity of teenagers. In essence, I’d suppressed my Daddy tendencies when I’d become a real father. Pups had taken a back seat to skinned knees, rollerblades, and grieving over losing Erlene.

Now, I had a chance to recapture what I was missing.

I snagged a squeaky toy and squeezed.

His eyes lit.

“Why don’t you play for a bit?”

More enthusiastic head bobbing.

I held the toy out.

He snagged it between his teeth.

“Would you mind if I sit on the bed and watch you play?”

He shook his head.

I propped a pillow against the headboard, sat, and stretched my long legs out before me.

After a moment, he squeezed his toy between his teeth.

It squeaked.

He vibrated with excitement. Then he continued chomping on it and shaking his head as if to dislodge it.

Slowly, I petted his hair.

His luminous eyes stared up at me.

“Do you want scritches? You were playing, and I don’t want to interrupt, but I thought you might want cuddles—”

He launched himself into my lap.

Ioofedas he landed on me. Then he laid his head against my chest.

Without needing any further encouragement, I ran my hand through his hair, using my nails on his scalp. Then I scratched up and down his back, reveling in the soft skin. Of all the pups, he’d always had the softest skin. Almost delicate to the touch—yet he loved the rough and tumble as much as the quiet moments of bonding and connection.

I blinked back tears. I had Buttercup in my lap. My boy was back where he belonged. Only this time we didn’t have artificial barriers. We had never exchanged real names at the club. I was Daddy D and he was Buttercup. We didn’t know each other beyond that. Now? Jai knew about my kids. I had a better understanding of why he’d had to stop coming to the club. He’d moved away. Erlene died.

Yet we’d found our way back to each other.

But, we were different people.

He sniffed.

“Are you okay?” I cupped his cheek.