Page 87 of The Idol

I nodded instead, because it was easier. Because I’d spent my whole life pretending.

But my hands, still trembling in my lap, betrayed me.

Jace’s eyes flicked to them. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

He crossed the room in three strides and dropped to a crouch in front of me—not touching, not pushing, just close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.

I breathed in—and breathed out.

“What do you need from me, cherub?” he asked, bringing his hands up to rest on my thighs. My toes curled from just that small touch.

“Can you just stay and talk for a few minutes?”

Jace’s hands stilled on my thighs, warm and steady. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I can do that. I’m right here, baby.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The room felt too small, too quiet, like every thought I’d been trying to avoid had finally cornered me. I shifted back on the bed, and Jace took the silent invitation, rising and sitting beside me instead of kneeling on the floor. The mattress dipped under his weight, and a moment later, his arm brushed mine.

He angled himself toward me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. My voice sounded thin. “Just… something. Something to get my mind off everything.”

Jace nodded like he understood exactly whateverythingmeant.

I swallowed hard, a minute passing as I thought of something. I softly asked, licking my lips, “Can you… explain more about that… the thing you told me about? The Daddy thing?”

Jace blinked, surprised. “Yeah? You want to talk about that now?”

Heat rose to my cheeks, but I nodded. “You said you’d tell me more. I just… I keep thinking about it.”

Jace hesitated only a moment before he shifted closer, his thigh pressing against mine. The contact wasn’t demanding; it was reassuring.

“Okay,” he said, voice low. “We can talk about it.”

I let myself lean slightly into him, just enough that our shoulders touched. He didn’t say anything about it. He only adjusted so it felt natural—like he’d expected me to soften against him.

“So,” he began slowly, “a Daddy-boy relationship… it’s not about age. Or power in the way you’d think. It’s not just about being in charge all the time. It’s about caretaking too.”

“Caretaking?” I echoed.

“Yeah.” His voice warmed, deepened. “It’s about one person wanting to protect the other. Look after them. Make sure they’re okay. It’s about trust. About comfort.” He paused, then added softly, “It’s about giving someone a safe place to fall apart.”

My breath caught, because the words felt too close—too much like exactly what I wanted but didn’t know how to ask for.

Jace continued, “A Daddy looks out for his boy. Guides him.” He glanced at me then, eyes gentle. “Sometimes that includes rules or structure, but it’s supposed to feel supportive. Not mean or cruel.”

Not like Father,he meant.My chest ached.

“So it’s… like being cared for,” I murmured. “On purpose.”

“On purpose,” Jace repeated. “That’s the important part.”

I shifted again, just a little, and this time Jace moved with me, his arm lifting in silent question.

I nodded.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t. I leaned in until my head rested against his chest. His robe was warm from the sun, and his heartbeat thumped solidly beneath my ear.

My whole body loosened with a soft exhale.