Page 57 of Just A Little Joy

“What? No! Your hangover might be though.”

“Oh, that don’t matter cause I don’t get ’em.”

“Aren’t you a lucky one? Mine used to be awful. Could you just humor me and take it anyway?”

Daddy asked so nicely that I had to agree. “Okay,” I sang, “but I won’t need it.”

He squeezed my hand and butterflies swooped around in my chest.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wasn’t too far gone to realize he could be the person I wanted to find. Daddy was steady and kind and liked me. But moving on was such a part of me that tonight my brain couldn’t even start to wrap around theidea of not doing that. But what if I wasn’t what he wanted to find? I’d be so sad when he tossed me aside. That would crush me. And if the boys said I couldn’t hang around with them, that’d be double bad.

No tears. Please. Please. Please. No tears.

“Why are you crying? Are you feeling sick?”

“No, I’m not. The boys won’t let me come back anymore, and I had so much fun, and I forgot my gingerbread house made with crackers, and you don’t like me.”

Once the tears started, I couldn’t stop them, and I felt so foolish and dumb, and I wanted to go back to sleep because in my dreams, Daddy and I were at the beach, and that was better.

Daddy’s hand threaded through my hair before coming to rest at the nape of my neck. He slowly massaged the muscles. The heat from the seat mixed with the heat of his touch, somehow leaving me wrung out and needy.

“Bub, let’s get you inside and under the covers. I think you’ve had enough for being awake for one day.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, “I wanna take a nap. You wanna take a nap too?”

“Sure,” he answered before sliding out of his seat and coming around to open my door. “But I was thinking it might be a little longer than a nap. The whole night sounds better to me.”

I gave a small nod obediently and slid out of the front seat. My legs were wobbly, but I was able to stand well enough to walk into the house. Daddy led me straight upstairs to his bedroom. Normally, when I was over, I’d think about how much Owen could do with this place given half the chance, but tonight all I thought about was lying back down and closing my eyes.

In his bedroom, Daddy pushed me gently onto the bed. He knelt in front of me and took off my shoes and socks. He moved away to grab a T-shirt, Rainers of course, and some sweats before returning to me. He moved me like a rag dollwhile undressing me. He positioned me this way and that, and I studied the room.

It was undeniably his. Hockey sticks were stacked haphazardly in the corner with a gear poking out of the bag on the floor. A stack of files was on the desk in the corner, along with his laptop. The comforter under me was a puffed quilt in dark blue and silky smooth. The heavy wood furniture was unmistakenly masculine and undoubtedly expensive. I wasn’t sure I’d ever fit in.

“Hey, you. Here’s some pain meds. Drink the whole glass,” Daddy ordered.

The care and concern in his voice soothed me. The wine haze had begun fading and a bone-deep tired filled the well instead. I’d been so busy studying the room that I didn’t notice when he left and then returned.

I gratefully accepted them both. When I tried to take the pills, he waved my hand away and slipped them between my lips instead. The small moment of caretaking shook me, and I tried to remember anyone in my life being so gentle with me. Nothing came to mind. Even my parents were more “brush off the dirt and get back on the bike” people. They loved me but weren’t believers in coddling.

And that’s exactly what Daddy did when I was around him, regardless of my headspace. He coddled me. It was…nice in the mostest wonderful way. It felt like a holiday you saw on the cards that didn’t look like real life because it wasn’t.

THIRTEEN

TRAVIS

“Good morning.”

Hearing him so bright that early brought something soft awake in me.

The cheerful voice in my ear didn’t match the man I put to bed last night. I cracked one eye open to confirm what my body already knew. Weak light hadn’t made it past the blackout shades. That told me one thing. It was too fucking early to be awake.

“What time is it?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

“Around six. I think it’s time to get up.”

Part of me wondered why he always reached for me first thing, like he needed to know I was still there.

“But the sun isn’t up, so I don’t wanna be up.”