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"No," I said firmly, pulling him into my arms despite the smoke clinging to my clothes. "This is because your godfather is a sociopath who will destroy anything in his path to get what he wants."

Matty stiffened, then melted against me, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. "I'm so sorry," he whispered against my chest.

"Don't," I said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Don't apologize for his actions. Ever."

Something shifted in Matty's expression—a hardening, a resolve I hadn't seen before. "Should we go to the cops? There must be someone that he isn’t bribing."

I considered his question, stroking his hair back from his face.

"We can try, but honestly, Harold's connections run deep. Without solid proof linking him directly to the attempts on your life or the fire, it would be his word against ours. And he's a respected businessman while I'm..." I gestured to my cut.

Matty nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "A scary biker," he finished, his lips quirking slightly.

"Exactly. But we'll get him, Matty. We just need to be smart about it." I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Maybe I should go see him?" he asked, his voice taking on a slightly higher pitch that made me pay closer attention.

"Absolutely not, little one," I said carefully, noting how he shifted his weight from foot to foot, a gesture I'd seen when his Little side was emerging. "It's late. We should try to get some sleep."

Matty nodded but made no move toward the bedroom. Instead, he bit his lip, eyes downcast. "Is everyone really okay? From the club?"

"They're going to be fine," I assured him, keeping my voice gentle. "The girls are being treated for smoke inhalation, and the security guard has some burns but nothing life-threatening."

"That's good," he murmured, his fingers beginning to fidget with the hem of his t-shirt. "I was scared."

I watched him carefully, recognizing the signs of his headspace shifting. The stress of the night and the guilt he was feeling were pushing him toward the comfort of his Little space.

"Come on," I said softly, holding out my hand. "Let's get you back to bed."

He took my hand without hesitation, his fingers curling trustingly around mine. "You smell like smoke," he repeated, wrinkling his nose.

"I know, little one. I should shower first."

Instead of pulling away, he leaned closer. "Can I... can I wait for you? Don't wanna be alone."

"Of course you can," I said, leading him to the bathroom. "You can sit right here while I get cleaned up, okay?"

He nodded, perching on the closed toilet lid while I turned on the shower. As steam began to fill the room, I noticed him eyeing Patches, who sat on a shelf. I wondered how he’d gotten in the bathroom, but assumed Matty had put him there earlier.

"Would you like Patches?" I asked, already reaching for the stuffed dog.

Matty hesitated, conflict clear on his face. Part of him—the adult part—was fighting the need. But as I held out the worn stuffie, his desire for comfort won.

"Yes, please," he whispered, accepting Patches with careful hands and hugging him close.

"I'll be quick," I promised, stepping into the shower.

True to my word, I washed efficiently, rinsing away the smoke and grime. Through the shower curtain, I could see Matty's silhouette, still seated, head bent over Patches as he whispered something to the stuffed dog. The sight made my chest tighten with an emotion I couldn't quite name.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped around my waist, Matty looked up with heavy-lidded eyes. The adrenaline that had kept him awake was clearly wearing off.

"Sleepy?" I asked, grabbing another towel to dry my hair.

He nodded, yawning widely. "Patches is tired too."

"Then let's get you both to bed," I said, pulling on clean boxers and a t-shirt.

I held out my hand again, and Matty took it without hesitation, allowing me to lead him back to the bedroom. He climbed into bed, Patches tucked securely under his chin, watching me with those wide, trusting eyes that made my protective instincts surge.

"Will you stay?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

"Of course," I assured him, sliding under the covers beside him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Matty immediately curled against me, his body fitting perfectly against mine. I wrapped an arm around him, holding him close as his breathing began to even out.

"Daddy?" he whispered, the word slipping out as sleep began to claim him.

"Yes, little one?"

"Don't let the bad man hurt anyone else."

My arms tightened around him. "I won't," I promised, pressing a kiss to his hair. "I'll keep everyone safe."

I just didn't know exactly how.

Matty

I woke up slowly, warmth surrounding me and the comforting weight of Daddy's arm draped across my waist. The events of last night filtered back—the fire, Daddy coming home smelling of smoke, the way I'd... slipped again.

Shame flooded through me. I'd promised myself I wouldn't do that anymore, wouldn't be a burden when Daddy—no when Novo already had so much to deal with. And now Harold had burned down his business because of me.

I carefully extracted myself from Novo's embrace, sliding out of bed without waking him. Patches tumbled to the floor, and I stared at the stuffed dog for a long moment, torn between the urge to snatch him up and the need to prove I could be an adult.

In the end, I left him there and padded quietly to the bathroom, closing the door before leaning heavily against it. My reflection in the mirror looked tired, younger than my twenty-seven years. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the lingering fog of Little space.

"Get it together," I whispered to myself. "He needs a partner, not another problem."

After brushing my teeth, I headed to the kitchen, determined to be useful. I started coffee brewing and rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out eggs and vegetables for an omelet. The least I could do was make breakfast.

As I chopped peppers and onions, my mind wandered to the night before. The thought of people being hurt because of me sent a flutter of anxiety through my stomach, but I pushed it away, focusing on the steady rhythm of the knife against the cutting board.

"Morning," Novo's deep voice came from behind me.

I turned, forcing a smile. "Hey. I'm making breakfast."

He studied me, his eyes missing nothing. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said automatically, turning back to the vegetables. "Just fine."

Novo was silent for a moment, then moved to pour himself coffee. "You left Patches on the floor."

My hand stilled. "I... yeah. I don't need him right now."

Another silence, heavier this time. "Matty, look at me."

Reluctantly, I set down the knife and turned to face him. He stood with his coffee mug in hand, expression gentle but serious.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," I insisted. "I'm just... being an adult. Like I should be."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "Because of last night?"

I looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "You have enough to deal with. Your business burned down because of me. You don't need..." I gestured vaguely, "...this too."

"This?" Novo repeated, setting down his mug. "You mean your Little side?"

I nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

"Matty," he said, his voice impossibly gentle, "look at me."

I forced myself to meet his gaze, expecting to see frustration or disappointment. Instead, I found only concern.

"You are not a burden," he said firmly. "Not in any headspace. Not ever."

"But the fire—"

"Was Harold's doing, not yours," he interrupted. "And my club will rebuild. That's business. You..." he stepped closer, "you matter more."

Something tight in my chest loosened slightly. "I just don't want to make things harder for you."

Novo shook his head. "Your Little side isn't hard for me. If anything, it's..." he paused, seeming to search for the right words, "it's a privilege. That you trust me enough to show me that part of yourself."

I blinked rapidly, fighting unexpected tears. "But I should be helping. Being strong."

"Strength comes in different forms," Novo said, reaching out to brush my hair from my face. "Sometimes it's fighting, sometimes it's vulnerability. Both are valuable."

His words struck something deep inside me, a truth I'd been running from for years. My Little side wasn't a weakness—it was another part of me, one that deserved care just as much as my adult self.

"I don't know how to balance it," I admitted quietly. "I've spent so long hiding that part of me."

"We'll figure it out together," Novo promised. "No rush, no pressure. Whatever headspace you're in, I'm here."

I nodded, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. "Okay."

"Now," he said, glancing at the half-chopped vegetables, "how about we finish breakfast together?"

I managed a small smile. "Yeah, I'd like that."

As we worked side by side, I felt something shifting inside me—a gradual acceptance of all the parts that made me who I was. Maybe I didn't have to choose between being an adult and having my Little space. Maybe, with Novo, Daddy , or whatever I called him I could just be myself—all of myself.

After breakfast, Daddy made several calls while I cleaned up the kitchen, listening to the deep rumble of his voice as he coordinated with club members about the fire investigation. When he finally hung up, his expression was grim but determined.

"So," I said, drying my hands on a towel, "what's the plan for today?"

"I need to talk to the guys. I'd like you to walk over with me."

I nodded and lifted my chin. He smiled slightly, a flash of pride in his eyes that made my heart flutter. "Then let's get ready."

As I headed to the bedroom to get dressed, I really wanted Daddy to come and do it or even pick out my clothes for me. I sighed and picked up Patches. Why was this so hard?