Protector Daddy

by Roberts, Laylah

  She knew she should be feeling some pain in her shoulder. But she didn’t. At least she couldn’t separate that pain from the rest of the agony coursing through her body.

  “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

  “You can’t promise that. What if something happens to you? What do I do if something happens to you?” she cried.

  “Listen to me,” he said in a hard voice. “Millie, listen.”

  She stared up at him, aware she must be a mess. Her eyes were almost swollen with tears, her face was likely blotchy and she really needed to blow her nose.

  He carefully shifted her, then to her surprise whipped off his T-shirt. Was he trying to distract her with his muscles?

  Then he held his T-shirt to her face, wiping her tears before holding it to her nose. “Blow.”

  “I . . . I can’t.”

  “Blow. I don’t want to leave you to get tissues. Blow.”

  She blew into his T-shirt. Yes, it was gross. But she’d make sure to wash it later.

  “Millie, I’ve been where you are. For years I didn’t want to love anyone because I was scared to lose them like I did my wife. Now, I realize I was just waiting for someone that was worth the risk of loving again. I was waiting for you.”

  “What if you decide I’m not what you want? You could do that. Other people have.”

  “Other people were idiots. Millie, listen. You have a huge heart. You’re bubbly and sweet and fun. Somehow, we fit. You and me. You’ve always taken care of everyone else. You’re worn down. You need someone to take care of you. You deserve it. Maybe I don’t deserve you. But I’m not letting you go.”

  She sniffled. “Are you sure?”

  “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “I feel broken.”

  “I know. And I know it feels like you’ll never be whole. But you will be. And I will help. I promise.”

  37

  She looked down at the French toast in disinterest. She hadn’t had an appetite since Spike told her about her sister two days ago.

  Afterwards, he’d held her while she’d cried. Spoken softly to her. Reassured her. Kept her safe. She’d spent all day crying off and on. He hadn’t pushed her to do anything. To talk. The only time that he’d grown bossy was when she’d refused to take her pain pills.

  Every night, he held her as tight as he could without hurting her. And each time she’d had a nightmare, he’d been there. He’d wiped her tears. Spoken to her quietly until she slipped back to sleep.

  Yesterday it had been much the same. She’d felt like a zombie. Numb. Only for it to hit her once more and she’d start crying all over again.

  “Baby doll, you need to eat.”

  She shook her head.

  He sighed, forking up a piece and holding it against her lips. Reluctantly she ate it. For him. The relief on his face was worth it. But it sat like concrete in her belly. Heavy and hard.

  She rubbed her stomach.

  “Sore tummy?” Spike guessed.

  Nodding, she frowned. Sadness was a veil around her. It was drowning her. Making it hard for her to breathe. To see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  Spike sighed, then cupped her face with his big palm. “I’m gonna ring Hack. Get him to come out and check you.”

  “I’m not ill.”

  “Baby doll, you were shot. You’ve been through a huge shock. And you get debilitating migraines that are often triggered by stress and not taking care of yourself. Or in this case, me not taking care of you.”

  There was a bitterness to his words she didn’t like.

  She reached over and took his hand in hers. He looked down at it like he’d never seen it before.

  “Spike?”

  “I know you blame me. I blame me as well.” He stood suddenly, slamming his fist against the countertop of the kitchen island. The display of emotion, of barely controlled anger, shocked her.

  This wasn’t Spike.

  You’re doing this to him.

  “I don’t blame you.” How could he think that? None of this was his fault.

  But it was as though he didn’t hear her. He started pacing. “I should have done more.”

  “Spike.”

  “I should have saved her.”

  “Spike.”

  “Too late. We were too late.”

  “Spike!” She slid off the stool and suddenly he was there, his hands wrapping around her waist.

  “What are you doing?” he questioned. “You need to be careful.”

  He was treating her as though she was fragile. And she got it. Because that’s how she felt right now. However, the old Spike wouldn’t let her get away with half the stuff she had. She’d have already found her way across his knee. He hadn’t threatened once to keep track of her transgressions.

  “Spike, listen to me.”

  He stared down at her, his eyes tormented. She cupped the side of his face, the way he often did for her.

  “You’re right.”

  Agony etched into his face and he flinched, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he was calm. Poised.

  As though waiting for a blow.

  “You were right that it wasn’t healthy for me to bottle everything up. To go through life pretending it would all be okay if I just smiled more. I . . . this isn’t just about Daria’s death. That was the trigger. But this is about more than that. Daria’s death was in no way your fault.”

  “If we could have found her in time . . .”

  “And if I had noticed she was so unhappy. If I’d tried harder to find her. There are so many what ifs.”

  “None of that is your fault,” he told her. “You couldn’t have known she was going to run.”

  “No. And it’s not your fault either,” she said gently.

  He gave a short nod.

  “Sometimes I think things happen for a reason, you know? And I have to realize that even though everything that has happened is terrible, that there is still a lot of good in my life. What’s good in my life is you. If all of this hadn’t happened, I would never have met you.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Christ, I thought you were going to tell me you wanted to leave.”

  “Never,” she whispered fiercely. “Not as long as you want me. Maybe not even then.”

  “Thank fuck.” He drew her closer. “I can’t lose you, baby doll. I can’t.”

  God, how selfish she’d been, wallowing in her guilt and pity without realizing he was going through the same.

  “I’ll be okay, Spike. I just need some time.”

  “And I want to give you that time,” he said gruffly. “But not at the expense of your health.”

  “I know. I’ll try to eat and sleep. It’s just every bite makes me feel ill and when I close my eyes . . . having you hold me helps.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do. I won’t let you go.”

  “I know.” She smiled up at him.

  “Do you need to talk to someone? A professional? I know you said no before to Hack’s offer. But maybe you should reconsider.”

  “Maybe I should.” Even though the thought of talking to a stranger was scary, she couldn’t go on like this.

  “I’ll talk to him. Gonna ask him about the food issues too. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “You don’t need to treat me like I’m made of glass. I won’t shatter if you get all bossy with me.”

  Arrogance filled his face. “You like it when I’m bossy.”

  “Well, no, I didn’t say that! You’re just not you when you’re not grumbling over something ridiculous and threatening to spank me.”

  “Aww, do you miss being spanked, baby doll?” he drawled.

  “I didn’t say that.” For the first time in days, she felt a spark of something. Of heat. Of amusement. “Think I just need a bit of normalcy. Well, as much as I can get with my injured arm.”

  And the sadness in her heart.

  “Come into the study with me. You can lie on
the couch and read or color while I make a few calls. I’ll bring you some snacks and if you’re a good girl and eat for Daddy, he has a surprise for you.”

  Ooh. A surprise.

  * * *

  Spike watched her as she lay on the couch in his office. He’d placed a blanket over her and gotten Chompers for her. Mr. Fluffy was sleeping at her feet. She had a coloring book on her lap, but mostly she spent her time looking off into the distance.

  She had some earphones in, listening to an audiobook at the same time. It was hard for her to concentrate enough to read at the moment. But listening to books seemed to relax her.

  He put through a call to Hack first.

  “How’s our girl?” Hack answered.

  He ground his teeth together. “Not our girl. Mine.”

  Hack just laughed. Asshole.

  “She’s not doing that great,” Spike admitted.

  All sounds of amusement stopped. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s not eating. Barely sleeping. Nightmares. I’m worried she’ll have another migraine soon on top of the one she just had a few days ago. She’s too stressed. Sad.”

  Hack blew out a breath. “She’s dealt with a lot lately.”

  “That’s just it. Millie doesn’t deal with things, she suppresses them.”

  “And now that’s biting her in the ass,” Hack surmised.

  “That your official diagnosis?” Spike snapped.

  “Asshole.” Hack was silent for a moment. “Is she willing to talk to someone now? I know a guy in the lifestyle. He’s a Daddy Dom. Has his own Little. He actually shares her with his brother.” Spike had told Hack about Millie coming here to find out what happened to her sister. But he hadn’t gone into any detail. Hack knew nothing about the Fox and they wanted to keep it that way. The less people who knew, the better.

  “Yes. If you can recommend someone.”

  “Yeah, I have an idea. I’ll set it up, but probably won’t be able to get her in for a few days. You said eating has become difficult?”

  “She said she feels nauseous each time she eats.”

  “Protein drinks could help. I can get some sent to you by the end of the day. It will be from all the stress. Anything you can do to ease that will help. Distract her. Treat her like you normally would. Has she been in Little space since?”

  “No. But I have an idea about that.”

  * * *

  Millie followed Spike down the hallway, wondering where he was leading her to. They reached a door she hadn’t opened before.

  She knew he was upset that she’d barely eaten any lunch on top of her miserable attempt at breakfast. She had to do better or she was going to find herself getting more and more migraines.

  Suddenly, he stopped and looked back at her. She was surprised to see he was nervous. Whatever was beyond this door meant something to him.

  “If you don’t like it, we can change it. Or you don’t have to have any of it if you don’t want. I just thought it could be somewhere special for you.” He was rambling which was so unlike Spike. Her heart melted.

  “Show me.”

  He opened the door and stepped inside. She followed him, coming to a stop, her heart racing. She slowly turned in a circle, trying to take it all in.

  “You did this for me?” she finally managed to ask.

  “The guys helped.”

  “How . . . I never even imagined . . . this is all for me?” Tears welled in her eyes. Shoot. She’d have thought she was all out of tears.

  His face grew panicked. “It wasn’t supposed to make you cry! I can take it all back.”

  “Spike—”

  “It’s too much—”

  “Spike—”

  “Too soon, isn’t it?”

  “Daddy!”

  He stopped, stared at her. His face flushed slightly. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Daddy since the day we got home from the hospital.”

  She hadn’t let her Little out in a while. But maybe that was a mistake. She’d kept herself from slipping into that Little space out of guilt. To punish herself. But she was punishing him too. And maybe they both needed this in order to heal.

  “Daddy, this is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.” Because he’d done this for her.

  Well, maybe the time-out chair she’d spotted in one corner. That could go.

  The walls were painted cream, but along all four walls, decals had been stuck on. There was a large tree in the corner, spanning almost two full walls and hanging from the branches were small, colorful houses. Fairies danced in the air, some of them close to the tree, but others appeared on the other walls.

  A magical fairy tree.

  But then in amongst all the fairies, dinosaurs roamed. Big ones, small ones, some flying ones. It was insane. It shouldn’t have made any sense.

  It was perfect.

  The corner where the tree resided had a small book shelf along with lots of big, colorful cushions on the floor. A reading corner.

  Across from her there was a platform with a microphone on a stand along with her karaoke machine. A gold metallic curtain had been hung from the wall behind the stage.

  There was even a dog bed for Mr. Fluffy. It was white with his name written along the side of it. He padded over there, flopped down and promptly fell asleep.

  Along one wall was storage. Big tubs that he now led her to. Even the giant giraffe that Damon bought her, who she’d named Jamie, was here.

  “These are full of toys. Wasn’t sure exactly what you liked.” He pulled out one tub. It held a doll along with piles of clothes for her. Another tub was filled with Legos.

  “Oh, this is amazing.”

  The baby corner had a rocking chair. A big, wooden one with comfy looking cushions. Next to it was a small set of drawers like you might use for a nightstand. On top of the drawers was a lamp in the shape of a dinosaur.

  He drew her over there next, opening the drawers. Inside, she saw there was a baby’s bottle with an oversized nipple, a gorgeous looking pacifier that had a dinosaur face on the front of it, and a dinosaur-shaped bib.

  “You don’t have to use any of those.” He shrugged. “Although I used the bottle when you had a migraine to get some fairy juice into you.”

  “You did?” She could vaguely remember that. “I’m not sure I can . . .”

  “It’s okay. It’s just in case. Would you like to play with something?”

  She glanced over at the reading corner. “Want me to read you a story, Daddy?”

  “Nothing would make me happier, baby doll.”

  * * *

  For the first time in a long, long time Spike actually felt at ease. He watched as Millie sat on the floor and built something with the Legos. It was slow going with one arm, but she didn’t get grumpy. She’d already read him three stories before declaring that she wanted to play for a while.

  He’d brought his laptop in to work while keeping an eye on her.

  She liked the playroom.

  Thank fuck.

  Yeah, he’d been a bit nervous. But he was glad now that he’d done it. He was heartened to see the sadness lighten in her eyes. This was helping both of them, he realized. Hopefully, easing both of their stress levels.

  When he saw her yawn for the third time in a matter of minutes, he knew that he was going to have to interrupt her play.

  “Hey, baby doll. Time for a nap.” He set his laptop down and walked over to crouch in front of her.

  “Don’t need a nap, Daddy.”

  “You’ve yawned several times and it’s past the time that you usually nap.”

  “No, Daddy. I’m playing.”

  “Little girl, last warning,” he said sternly.

  She frowned up at him. “Daddy, I’m in the middle of building a princess castle. I can’t be stopping. Where will she sleep tonight if I don’t make it?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be just fine sleeping in the box.”

  “In a box.” She gasped. “Daddy, a princess does not s
leep in a box.”

  He tapped her nose. “If this princess doesn’t do as she’s told she might well find herself sleeping with a hot bottom.”

  “Daddy! You can’t spank me! Chompers, get him!” she commanded her dinosaur.

  He shook his head at her antics, then to his shock, he found himself whacked in the face with a dinosaur.

  Spike sat there for a moment. There was a deafening silence.

  He looked at Chompers then over to Millie’s horrified face. “Did you just throw your toy at me, little girl?”

  “Nuh-uh, Daddy.”

  “Nuh-uh? So you didn’t do that?”

  “Nope, Daddy. That would be naughty.”

  “It would be naughty. So how do you think Chompers ended up hitting me in the face?” he asked her.

  “Well, he is a dinosaur. They aren’t exactly well trained.”

  “Uh-huh, so Chompers did that all on his own?”

  “I guess he didn’t want to take a nap. Naughty Chompers,” she scolded the dinosaur.

  “Well, I guess Chompers is going to have to go into time-out then, isn’t he?” He stood and walked to the corner of the room that held the time-out chair. He set Chompers into it.

  “No, Daddy, you can’t do that to Chompers,” she cried.

  Mr. Fluffy opened an eye and let out a disgruntled woof. Whether that was over Millie’s distress or the fact that she woke him up, Spike wasn’t sure.

  “If Chompers is naughty he has to be punished. Come on, nap time.”

  “Not without Chompers.”

  “Chompers decided to hit Daddy rather than doing as he was told, so he’s getting time-out while you take a nap.”

  “Urgh, Daddy! You know it wasn’t Chompers. It was me.” She frowned at him.

  “So you hit Daddy in the face with Chompers and you lied to me?”

  Her shoulders slumped.

  He shook his head then came back and helped her up. He walked her over to the time-out chair. “Ten minutes. For you and Chompers both.”

  He grabbed the toy and helped her sit, before handing Chompers to her.

  “Daddy is being a big meanie today, isn’t he, Chompers?” she muttered.