Page 18

Chapter eleven

Novo

I shook hands with Bolt and we both watched for a moment until Daisy shooed us both away, then I made coffee and took him out to the backyard where I had a small deck.

I set two mugs of coffee on the table and took a seat across from Bolt.

He was a big man, almost as tall as me, with tattoos covering his forearms. His eyes, though, were kind and observant as they flickered between me and the window where we could see Matty and Annabel coloring.

"Thanks for coming," I said, my voice low. "I'm... out of my depth here."

Bolt nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Jono filled me in on the basics. Sounds like you've had a hell of a week."

"That's putting it mildly," I replied, running a hand through my hair. "I wasn't expecting... this." I gestured vaguely toward the window.

"The regression?" Bolt asked directly. "Or the fact that you feel something for him?"

I nearly choked on my coffee. "I didn't say—"

"You didn't have to," Bolt said with a knowing smile. "I've been where you are. When I first met Annabel, I thought I was just going to be her Dom. The Little stuff caught me completely off guard."

I studied him carefully. Bolt had been with the club for years, respected by everyone. I'd seen him with Annabel at club gatherings but had never paid much attention to their dynamic.

"How does it work?" I asked bluntly. "One minute he's an adult, the next he's... not."

Bolt leaned back in his chair. "Age regression isn't the same for everyone.

For some, it's strictly role play—they're always aware they're adults pretending.

For others, like Annabel and I'm guessing Matty, it's a headspace they slip into.

They're not pretending to be childlike; in that moment, they are experiencing the world as a child would. "

"But why?" I asked, glancing through the window where Matty was showing Annabel how to color a triceratops. "Why would an adult want to be a child again?"

"Lots of reasons," Bolt replied thoughtfully.

"For some, it's about reclaiming a childhood they never got to have.

For others, it's about escaping adult responsibilities for a while.

And for many, especially those who've experienced trauma, it's about feeling safe and cared for in a way they might not have been as actual children. "

That struck a chord. From what I knew of Matty's childhood, there hadn't been much warmth or security.

"The trust fund stipulations mentioned the Daddy thing," I admitted. "But I thought it would just be... I don't know, me being protective, making decisions. Not this."

"Being a Daddy Dom isn't just about dominance and protection," Bolt explained. "It's about nurturing, guidance, consistency. For someone in a Little headspace, you're their safe harbor in a scary world."

I thought about how helpless Matty had looked when I'd found him at the café, how terrified he'd been during both attacks, how he'd clung to me afterward. Had he retreated to this Little headspace because it was the only place he felt safe?

"How do I know what he needs?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility. "I don't want to screw this up."

Bolt smiled sympathetically. "You follow his lead. Watch for cues. When he's in his Little space, he'll tell you what he needs—sometimes directly, sometimes through behavior. The key is consistency and boundaries."

"Boundaries?" I echoed.

"Little or not, they still need structure," Bolt explained.

"Rules help them feel secure. Annabel thrives on knowing exactly what's expected of her—regular mealtimes, a consistent bedtime, clear rules about behavior." He chuckled. “And she tests me. She can be a brat, but that’s usually when for some reason she feels insecure, and wants to know I’ll always be her safe space.”

I thought about how naturally I'd fallen into some of those patterns already—helping Matty wash his hands, making sure he ate proper meals, watching over his safety.

"Does he... stay like this?" I asked hesitantly. "Or does he switch back?"

"Most Littles fluctuate," Bolt said. "Annabel can be completely adult when she needs to be—she has a job, pays bills, functions in the world.

But when she's home with me, or when she's stressed or overwhelmed, she slips into her Little space.

It's my job to recognize which headspace she's in and respond accordingly. "

I nodded, processing this. "And when they're... Little... is it sexual?"

Bolt shrugged. "Sorry, but that differs with every person. It isn’t with us. When we have sex, she's firmly in her adult headspace, but a few Littles at the club we go to enjoy 'Daddy’s special touches.'”

I groaned. Why did it have to be so complicated?

Bolt grinned, unashamedly enjoying my discomfort. “Are you worried the club won’t accept Matty when he’s in his Little space?”

I thought about that. I hadn’t really considered it.

They accepted Annabel, but we didn’t have any same-sex couples at the moment who were members.

“I think Daisy would chop their nuts off if they looked at him funny.” Bolt took a healthy swallow of his coffee.

"What about when they first come out of it?

" I asked. "Matty’s retreated after a serious trauma.

What happens when he starts to come back? Do I need to get him therapy?"

Bolt's expression turned serious. "That can be complicated.

Sometimes there's embarrassment or shame.

They might not remember everything they did or said while in their Little space, or they might remember but feel uncomfortable about it.

" He leaned forward. “I one hundred percent agree that Matty might need to talk through his trauma, just don’t make the mistake of treating his Little space as something he needs to be cured of.

It's just another aspect of the lifestyle people enjoy.

It doesn't have to be associated with trauma.

There doesn't have to be any other reason than it's their thing. I’ll text you a couple of names of therapists familiar with the lifestyle.” I relaxed a little.

"The most important thing," Bolt continued, "is that you don't make him feel ashamed. Don't tease or belittle. Validate that this is a normal coping mechanism and that you accept all versions of him."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of the responsibility I'd taken on. "I never expected any of this when I married him," I admitted.

Bolt studied me for a moment.

"No one ever does," he said with a knowing smile. "It's a journey. When I discovered her Little side, everything changed."

"For the better?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Bolt's expression softened as he glanced toward the window where we could see Annabel showing Matty how Princess could do a special dance.

"Absolutely. It's opened up parts of myself I didn't know existed—patience, tenderness, a kind of love that's both protective and nurturing.

" He paused. "I love all sides of her, and I have no idea how I got to be so fucking lucky. "

I followed his gaze, watching as Matty laughed at something Annabel said, his face lighting up with genuine joy. Something twisted in my chest—a feeling I couldn't quite name.

"What if..." I began, then stopped, unsure how to voice my concern.

"What if he doesn't want this when he comes back to himself?" Bolt finished for me.

I nodded, the question that had been gnawing at me finally in the open.

"That's a risk," Bolt admitted. "But in my experience, the Little side is always there, even if it's deeply buried. If Matty has truly slipped into this headspace naturally, it's because it's part of who he is."

"And if it's just a trauma response?"

"Then you support him however he needs when he comes back," Bolt said simply. "Either way, what he needs right now is consistency and safety. The rest will sort itself out."

I ran a hand over my beard, processing everything Bolt had shared. The responsibility felt enormous, but strangely, not unwelcome.

"I'd like to invite you both to our Little group," Bolt said after a moment. "It meets twice a month. Annabel and three other Littles get together to play while the caregivers chat. It might help both of you to connect with others who understand."

"I'll think about it," I replied, not committing but not dismissing the idea either. Even the thought of Matty being anywhere outside of the compound made me nervous at the moment. I doubted if Coombes was going to give up anytime soon.

Bolt nodded, respecting my hesitation. "For what it's worth," he added, "I’m pretty sure you have good instincts."

Before I could respond, the sliding door opened and Daisy stepped out onto the deck.

"You boys about done with your chat?" she asked with a knowing smile. "Annabel and Matty want to show you their masterpieces."

We followed her inside to find Matty and Annabel sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by completed coloring pages. They looked up with identical expressions of pride.

"Daddy, look," Matty called, holding up a vibrantly colored stegosaurus. "I made him purple because that's a royal color and he's very important."

"It's beautiful, little one," I said, genuinely impressed by how neatly he'd stayed within the lines. "And you chose the perfect color."

Matty beamed, his entire face lighting up with my praise. "Annabel helped me with the spikes. She knows a special trick to make them look extra pointy."

Annabel nodded solemnly, holding up her own creation—a T-Rex in brilliant shades of green and blue. "Princess wanted it to be sparkly," she explained, pointing to the glitter pens Daisy must have brought with them.

Bolt crossed the room and knelt beside Annabel, examining her artwork with exaggerated seriousness. "This might be your best dinosaur yet, Pumpkin," he declared, ruffling her pigtails affectionately.

I found myself mirroring his actions, crouching beside Matty and looking through his other completed page. "You've been busy, little one."

"We're making a dinosaur book," Matty informed me, carefully gathering his pages. "Annabel says we can staple them together and make a cover and everything."

"That sounds like a great project," I agreed, feeling a strange warmth spread through my chest at his enthusiasm.

"Can Annabel come play again?" Matty asked, looking between me and Bolt with hopeful eyes. "She's really good at colors and her Princess is very nice to Patches and Bear."

"Of course she can," I said, meeting Bolt's gaze over their heads. "As long as it's okay with Bolt."

"Absolutely," Bolt agreed. "Princess needs more friends."

"Yay," Matty and Annabel exclaimed in unison, giving each other a high-five that made both Bolt and me smile.

Daisy watched the scene with a knowing look. "I've made some sandwiches," she announced. "Who's hungry?"

"Me," Matty and Annabel chorused, scrambling to their feet.

As they followed Daisy to the kitchen, Bolt clapped me on the shoulder. "See? You're doing fine," he murmured. "Just follow your instincts."

I watched as Matty carefully showed Annabel where to wash her hands, explaining the dinosaur soap dispenser I'd ordered with the same excitement as if he'd created it himself.

The sight stirred something protective inside me—something I hadn't expected to feel when I'd agreed to this marriage of convenience.

What had started as a means to an end—a way to get close to Coombes and avenge my parents—had somehow been complicated by this vulnerable young man who now trusted me completely. Who called me Daddy and looked at me like I hung the moon.

And the most unsettling part? I was starting to like it.