Page 62 of Saving Sophia

“I should get dressed,” I said miserably, walking past him to the head of the stairs and looking down over the railing to the cabin below, full of morning sun even though my heart felt gray.

He let out a heavy sigh and stepped over to the dresser to pull out a crisp white T-shirt. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. You need to eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

He pulled the shirt over his head and turned away. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying and padded my way down the stairs, blanket trailing behind me, still like a cape but not at all heroic.

* * *

ETHAN

I poured juice into her glass and set it next to her plate. She poked aimlessly at the eggs with her fork. Even pouting, in denim shorts and a tight blue T-shirt with a smiling rainbow heart emblazoned across her breasts, she took my breath away. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and if I wasn’t so concerned with her mood, I’d suggest we go into town to find a ribbon to tie around it.

But I was concerned.

At first, I thought she changed her mind. Maybe she decided she liked reading about Daddies but having one in real life was too much. But she’d said no when I asked, and here she was, dressed even more like a Little.

She asked about Griff. Maybe she was scared about the possibility of somebody being after her. So why couldn’t she tell me that? She had opened up about her parents. What was holding her back?

“Do you not like eggs?” I asked.

“Oh. No. They’re really good.” Her voice was flat as she stabbed a bite and dragged it around the plate, letting three-quarters of the food break off before bringing a minuscule bite slowly to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

She forced the remnant between her teeth and started chewing.

Sorry. Always sorry.

“Look at me,” I said. Her head snapped up at the firmness in my tone, her eyes a combination of wariness and heat. I held her gaze. “Give me your fork.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me, young lady. Give me your fork.”

She handed me the fork immediately. If I’d been wrong about her Little side, she would have told me to fuck off.

She didn’t.

“If you won’t eat like a big girl, Daddy will feed you.”

She stared at me for a moment, gauging my seriousness. Her eyes dropped to the plate. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be wasteful.”

“Three bites.” I pulled the plate over and broke off a small chunk of egg. I held the fork up to her mouth.

“You don’t have to?—”

“Are you arguing?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes going wide, her bottom lip sucking in under her teeth.

“No what?” I pushed her a little further.

“No, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” I kept my face serious. “Now open your mouth.”

Her breath hitched, but she complied, sitting up straighter and leaning in slightly.

I slid the fork in, then let her chew while I set up another bite. “Open.”

She took the second bite.

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