Page 70 of Jasper

She grins when her gaze lands on the oversized bean bag nestled in the corner, draped in a rainbow-striped blanket. A tiny gasp from her lips when she spots the shelf of coloring books beside a small white table surrounded by matching chairs.

Her joy is so fucking pure it makes my heart ache. She’s beautiful, taking it all in with her innocent wonder. Her foster family must have been fucking crazy not to want to keep her. Just thinking about those losers makes me want to smash something. The only things sparing them their lives are the fact they never harmed her, and they treated her well while she was with them. I just don’t know how they were able to say goodbye to her. It would destroy me if I had to.

She explores every inch of the room. Touches everything like it might disappear if she blinks. A pillow here. A bunny-eared stuffie there. Her fingers dance across the rows of thick crayons in a Mason jar. Every inch of her face lights up as she soaks it all in.

Then she turns.

Her gaze lands on the far wall, where the adult-sized, white changing table stands next to a matching white dresser.

She goes still.

I see the way her breath catches, the way her head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing as she slowly approaches. She stops in front of it and stands there, quiet, then glances over her shoulder at me.

She’s searching. Not for confirmation. For permission.

I cross the room in three strides and gently place a hand on her back. “Do you know what this is, baby?”

She looks at the table again, her brow furrowed slightly. “It… it looks like a diaper station.”

I nod. “It is.”

Her cheeks go pink instantly, her gaze dropping. When she speaks again, her voice is small and unsure. “I… I’ve thought about it before. About going that small. Letting go completely. I never told anyone. I guess I never let myself fullyfeelit. But… when we were playing outside? I noticed Ember wearing one.”

I brush my thumb over her spine, grounding her. “I’m a controlling man, rainbow. You know that. And when it comes to my Little girl, I like to have full control. Overeverything. Even her potty habits.”

She stiffens slightly, then breathes in deep, like she’s trying to absorb the weight of that truth.

“I’m not saying it would be every day,” I explain gently. “But sometimes… I might want you to be fully dependent on me. For everything. It’s about trust. Surrender. Letting yourselfbeLittle without limits.”

She bites her lip, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her shirt. She looks so innocent, so fragile in this moment, that I swear I feel something in my chest splinter.

“I… I’d like to try it,” she whispers.

I lean in and press a kiss to her temple. “Good girl.”

She smiles up at me and then moves away to continue exploring.

She skips over to the twin-sized bed beneath the window, the one with the plush pink comforter and cloud and rainbow-shaped pillows that I couldn’t pass on. She crawls on top of it and gives the mattress a few playful bounces, giggling as her glossy hair flies around.

I stand near the doorway, arms crossed, heart full, and a baseball-sized lump in my throat. How is it possible for this moment to make me so damn happy that it nearly brings tears to my eyes? Ariana is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. And she’s mine.

“You never have to sleep in that bed unless you want to,” I tell her. “But I thought maybe it would be nice to have a space that feels… extra Little. Just for you.”

She looks over her shoulder at me, beaming like the sun, then wiggles off the mattress and runs over to me. She throws her arms around my waist, burying her face into my chest as I wrap her up and lift her slightly off the ground.

“Thank you,” she breathes.

I hold her tightly, lowering my face to her hair and breathing her in. She’s it for me. I spent so many years feeling unloved. So fucked up in my own head at times that I couldn’t even function. The only time I was truly with it was when I was working. Deke taught us that when we’re on a job, we disconnect from who we are as people and almost become deadly robots with no emotions. I’ve always been able to do that but then after a job ended, I went right back to being fucked up.

Ariana doesn’t make me feel like something’s wrong with me, though. She makes me feel like I’m someone who could be loved. And honestly, she already is.

“I love you.”

She freezes.

Then slowly, so slowly, she pulls back, tilts her head up, and meets my gaze. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, lips trembling.

“I love you, too,” she whispers.

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