Page 221 of Broken Daddy

“I’m going to get some wipes to clean you up.”

She groaned. Was he trying to kill her with embarrassment? She didn’t look but heard him moving around and then a cool wipe ran over her pussy.

This was just too much.

“Good girl. Let’s get you on the toilet, then it’s nap time.”

By the time she’d used the toilet and he’d gotten her onesie sorted, she was feeling very tired. He tucked her into bed and slid the pacifier into her mouth before pulling the drapes. Then he returned to massage her head.

“That’s it, baby. Sleep time now. You don’t have to worry about anything. Daddy will take care of everything from now on.”

46

“What are you doing?”

She let out a squeal and moved her arm behind her although it was a bit late.

“Were you doing your exercises?” Hayes demanded.

They were meant to be getting bad weather tomorrow and he’d been outside stacking up some more firewood on the back porch.

“Um. Yes?”

“Yes? We’ve already done your exercises for the day,” he said. “What are you doing more for?”

“Um. Well. I figured that doing more would be better, you know?”

It had been over two and a half weeks since she’d woken up in the hospital and she was frustrated. Her movement in her hand was limited. She was weak. The muscles needed time to repair, but how much time?

She’d seen the physical therapist three times since she’d gotten here and he seemed to think she was making great progress.

But she just didn’t see it.

Hayes walked over and crouched in front of her. “You cannot overdo it, Devi. If you do, you are going to hurt yourself. Do you understand? Doing too much will set you back, not help you get better.”

Darn it. He was right.

“I know,” she said. “I just . . . I’m so frustrated by it all. And I just want to be able to do what I used to be able to. I miss . . . I miss working with clay. Making things. It was my happy place. Not that I’m not happy. I am. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“I get it, baby. It’s all right. I know it’s frustrating and you just want it to be better. But you have to give it time.”

“Yeah. I know.” Her shoulders slumped as she stared down at her hand.

“And no hiding things from me,” he said in a stern voice.

Oops.

She grimaced. “Am I in trouble? You’re not getting the beads out, are you?”

He actually grinned. “I can see they were a good choice of punishment.”

“No, no, they weren’t!” she cried.

A low chuckle left him. But then his face grew serious. “You aren’t getting the beads this time. But if you hide anything from me again, you’ll be in big trouble. The sort of trouble where you won’t sit comfortably for a week.”

She sighed, grateful that he’d let her off with a warning. But why had he? There was something in his face . . .

“Are you keeping something from me?”