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Matty's lips curved in a small, sad smile. "Tell that to Harold. He walked in on me once, just after I arrived back from Charlotte, when I was... in that headspace. I’d found a box at the bottom of my wardrobe with some old toys in it I didn’t even remember I had.

Buzz Lightyear. Woody. Even an old teddy.

Before I knew what I was doing I was playing and imagining they were saving the world. I'd thought he was out of town."

I set down my fork. "What happened?"

"He looked at me like I was something disgusting," Matty said, his voice soft but steady. "Sitting on my bedroom floor with cowboy dolls and stuffed animals. He didn't yell, just... stared. Then he said, 'I see you haven't grown up after all.' And left."

"Matty—"

"Two days later, he introduced me to James Degrassi." His fingers tightened around his water glass. "Said he'd found someone who wanted what I could offer. Maybe even 'fix' me."

White-hot rage surged through me at the thought of Coombes deliberately placing Matty with an abuser to "fix" him. "There's nothing to fix," I said, fighting to keep my voice level.

"I know that now," Matty replied. "Most of the time, anyway. It was that experience that made me get my own place… such as it was."

He got a kiss for that confession and I got a smile.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, both processing. I wanted to ask about Degrassi, about what he'd done, but I didn't want to push too far.

"Can I ask you something?" Matty said suddenly.

"Anything."

"How much experience have you had before? I get Dom vibes from you, but is that recent, or…”

I hesitated, setting down my fork. "I've been in the lifestyle on and off for about ten years, but it's been... situational."

"What does that mean?" Matty asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"It means I've had Dom tendencies with certain partners, but I've never been in a formal Dom relationship." I met his gaze directly. "What happened with you these past few days—that was new territory for me."

"Yet you seemed to know exactly what to do," Matty observed.

I shrugged slightly. "I followed my instincts. And Bolt gave me some guidance."

Matty's cheeks flushed. "I'm still embarrassed about that."

"Don't be," I said firmly. "Your Little side is beautiful, Matty. The way your face lights up when you're coloring, how carefully you introduce your stuffies to each other—it's a gift to witness that kind of joy."

His blush deepened, but I could see him processing my words, perhaps reconsidering his shame.

"When I was deployed," I continued, sensing he needed to hear more, "I saw the worst of humanity.

The cruelty people are capable of. Coming home was.

..difficult." I paused, gathering my thoughts.

"Finding the lifestyle, discovering I could provide structure and safety for someone who trusted me completely—it helped heal something in me. I wish I'd had time for more."

"So you're saying my Little side is therapeutic for you?" Matty asked with a hint of playfulness.

I smiled, recognizing the defense mechanism. "I'm saying we might be good for each other in ways neither of us expected."

He looked down at his plate, pushing the remaining pasta around with his fork. "And if I don't go into that headspace again?"

"Then we figure out what works for us as we are now," I replied simply.

"No pressure either way." But I honestly didn’t think that door was closed. Sure, it might have cracked wide open when he was stressed, but I’d bet when Matty learned to trust the safe space I could create, he would find it easier to let go.

I wanted his Little side to be fun, and not so much a trauma response.

Right now he was embarrassed and panicking.

Matty nodded slowly, then looked up with determination in his eyes. "I want to help bring Harold down. Not just hide while you and the club do all the work."

The sudden change of subject surprised me and I immediately tamped down the initial alarm, but I recognized the importance of his request. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know," Matty said, his jaw set with determination. "But I can't hide forever. And I want to help."

I considered his words, weighing the immediate sick feeling of him putting himself in danger with his need for some self-respect. "Whatever we do we do, we do it carefully."

"Thank you," Matty said, genuine relief in his voice. "For taking me seriously."

"I've always taken you seriously," I replied, reaching across the table to cover his hand with mine. "Even when you were building block towers with Patches supervising."

He rolled his eyes, but the tension had broken. As we finished dinner, we chatted about growing up. Matty listened attentively.

"My mom would have loved you," I said honestly.

"I miss the idea of her," Matty replied, and his brutal honesty slayed me.

"I bet you were cute growing up," I said with a smile.

"I was a little shit at school," he admitted. "I wasn't big enough to intimidate physically so I learned how to bully verbally."

I considered my response, knowing brushing it off was insulting.

"I think we're all products of our upbringing," I said.

"My biggest shame was watching my dad work seven days a week and barely making a living and not wanting that for myself.

" My laugh didn't contain humor. "I had my head full of being a hero, but for totally the wrong reasons.

I've asked myself a million times, if I hadn't joined the army maybe Dad would still be alive. "

Matty reached his hand out across the table and snagged mine.

I changed the subject a little. Made it lighter, telling Matty some funny stories of pranks and how the army had made me grow up. And all the while he never let go of my hand.

After we'd cleared the dishes, Matty hesitated in the kitchen doorway. "I should probably call Ricky, let him know I'm okay. He's been texting."

"Good idea," I agreed, noting how he seemed uncertain about claiming space. "You can use the living room. I've got some calls to make too."

He nodded and headed for the couch, already pulling out his phone. I retreated to my bedroom to give him privacy, using the time to update Jono on our bank plans and request additional security.

When I returned to the living room twenty minutes later, I found Matty curled in the corner of the couch, his expression troubled.

"Everything okay with Ricky?" I asked, taking a seat at the opposite end.

"Yeah, he's fine. Worried about me." Matty picked at a loose thread on the cushion. "He wants to come visit tomorrow, but I told him it wasn't safe yet."

I nodded. "Probably smart for now. I'm sorry you're so isolated."

Matty glanced at me, then away. "He asked about us. If we were... you know. Real."

"What did you tell him?" I asked carefully.

"That I didn't know yet." He looked up, his eyes uncertain. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," I assured him. "You don't owe anyone explanations about us, not even me."

He seemed to relax slightly at that. "He says Chris would like you to call him. If there's anything he can do to help."

I nodded seriously. When Digger had looked into Rent-A-Daddy he'd found the security business and that they were ex-military.

It was a good idea. We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the day's revelations and emotional roller coaster catching up with us. I noticed Matty stifling a yawn.

"Tired?" I asked.

He nodded reluctantly. "It's been... a lot."

"Why don't you get an early night," I suggested. "At least there's two bedrooms so I won't wake you with my snoring."

Matty sent me such a wounded look I knew immediately I’d screwed up.

“Scratch that,” I said immediately. “You’re mine. We sleep together.” I caught the small, pleased smile on his face just before I stood and tugged him up. His hand stayed in mine as we went into the bathroom.