Page 84 of Jasper

He doesn’t even blink. “Those people don’t have you.”

I don’t argue. There’s no point. He’s going to hover, and worry, and probably drive the manager a little crazy before the end of the week, but he’s also going to love me better than anyone ever has.

And honestly? I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

I step into the coffee shop, the bell above the door chimes, and the scent of fresh espresso wafts through the air.

It’s a new beginning. And this one I’m truly looking forward to.

* * *

By the time I step out of the coffee shop after my shift, I’m running on fumes. The soles of my feet throb inside my shoes, my calves ache with every step, and my brain feels like it’s been through a blender—set to high. I had no idea how exhausting it would be to smile on command, juggle drink orders, and try not to screw anything up while figuring out how the damn register works. I’d give anything to sit down, take my shoes off, and never move again.

The moment I push through the front door, I see my Daddy leaning against the passenger door of his truck like he owns the world. His arms are folded across his broad chest, his jaw tight, and his eyes locked on me like a hawk. My overprotective, overbearing, entirely too handsome man.

The second our eyes meet, he straightens. His gaze sweeps over my slumped shoulders, the way I’m dragging my feet, and his whole expression softens.

“How was it?” he asks, opening the door for me.

I groan and practically collapse into the seat, letting my head fall back against the headrest. “Good,” I mumble.

He leans in, tugs the seatbelt across my lap, and clips it in with a softclick.“What did you learn? Did anyone treat you badly? Any weirdos come in?”

I turn my head just enough to shoot him a look, then groan and press my forehead to the cool glass of the window. “Too many questions, Daddy. My brain’s full.”

He chuckles, and it warms my soul. “All right, baby. I’ll behave. When we get home, we’re putting you in the comfiest clothes you own before dinner.”

I nod, too tired to argue. “Comfy sounds like heaven.”

His hand finds my thigh as he starts the engine, rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of my pants. The drive is short, but the rhythm of the road and his hand lull me until my eyes drift shut. I’m half-asleep when we pull into the driveway.

I don’t even try to unbuckle myself. Jasper does it for me. The next thing I know, he’s lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing, his lips brushing the top of my head. “Let me take care of you.”

I melt into him, too tired to feel embarrassed or shy. The house is dim, the warm glow of a few lamps gives off enough light to head directly upstairs. When we step into the playroom, the world seems to shift. The soft pink walls, the gentle twinkle of fairy lights strung across the ceiling, the fluffy rugs. It all makes me feel like I’m shrinking into something softer. Smaller. Safer.

He sets me on the changing table, and I immediately lie back, eyes fluttering shut.

Until I hear the rustle of plastic.

My eyes snap open in time to see Jasper pulling a thick, crinkly diaper from the cabinet. I blink, my cheeks heating.

“Wait… Daddy…” I shift slightly, the paper lining beneath me crinkling. “I can’t wear that to dinner.”

He pauses and lifts his eyes to mine, calm and steady. “Why not?”

“Because… they’ll know.” I bite my lip, fidgeting.

His brows lift slightly. “Ember wears hers. Nobody says anything. It’s normal in our family.”

“Yeah, but I’m not her,” I whisper.

“No,” he agrees, placing the diaper down beside me. Then he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re not. You’re mine. And my girl is exhausted and overthinking.”

I glance at the diaper. Thick. Soft. Familiar now. And so, so comforting.

And I am so, so tired.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Just… do what you want.”

---