Page 85 of Daddy's Muse
“Morning, baby,” I murmured, stroking his cheek with my knuckles. “How’re you feeling?”
He swallowed, his voice hoarse when he whispered, “Tired.” His body pressed closer as though burrowing into me was the answer.
“Yeah? That’s alright. Why don’t we have a lazy day in bed, hm?” I kissed the tip of his nose.
He made a small sound, something caught between a sigh and a whimper, and I felt it tug straight at my chest. His hand fisted tighter in my shirt, his eyes slipping shut again as if the effort of waking had been too much.
And maybe that was fine; maybe he didn’t need to face the day yet. I could hold him as long as he needed.
I tightened my arms around him, feeling the bitter tang of his residual fear. I wanted to whisper promises until my throat gave out. I wanted to drown him in reassurances until no part of him doubted me again. But he was so fragile this morning, so worn thin, that I forced myself into silence. So, I simply held him.
Let him rest, and try to heal. I could carry the weight of all his fears for him.
After another hour, his breathing changed. It was subtle, but it told me before his eyes even opened that he was surfacing again.
“Hi,” he murmured, voice rough and thin.
I cupped his jaw, thumb grazing his cheek. “Hi, yourself. Are you hungry yet?”
He hummed, using a fingertip to trace invisible patterns on my chest. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna move.”
I propped myself on one elbow, studying him in silence.
“You don’t have to get out of bed,” I said. “I’ll go make something for you.”
“What… what time is it?”
“Late enough I should’ve had you fed by now.” I let a grin soften the words, trying to ease him into our comfortable familiarity. “What would you like, lille prinsen?”
“A yogurt parfait?”
I huffed out a laugh as I began getting up. “My baby must be feeling fancy today. I should have everything for that, though. Let me go see what I can do.”
I bent down and kissed him, slow and unhurried, tasting the sleep on his lips. He didn’t pull away. He leaned into it, even, but when I pulled back his eyes were shinier than I wanted them to be.
I stroked his cheek again. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head quickly, too quickly. “I’m okay,” he sighed.
I didn’t press, not yet—he needed some food in his belly first. I leaned forward and smoothed a strand of hair from his forehead. “Alright, baby. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You just rest here.”
He nodded, quiet.
As I left the room, I swore to myself that whatever demons had followed him out of last night, I’d smother them before they ever touched him again.
The kitchen greeted me with the bright natural light flowing in from the large windows. A parfait seemed doable. Opening the fridge, I found some vanilla yogurt, strawberries, and blueberries. A quick rummage around the cabinets produced granola, honey, and a bowl.
I filled a light blue sippy cup up with fresh orange juice and fixed myself a cup of coffee. Lastly, I found some lettuce and baby carrots.
I balanced the tray carefully, making sure nothing spilled as I walked from the kitchen to our bedroom. One detour into the den later, and I’d added a rabbit to the tray, hoping like hell that she could stay still for the trip so that Colby’s breakfast didn’t end up splattered across the floor.
When I walked through the door to our room, Colby’s eyes lifted to me, cautious but soft, and some of the knots in my shoulders began to ease.
“Breakfast,” I announced gently, setting the tray on his lap before settling down on the edge of the bed beside him.
He smiled as he saw the contents of the tray. “Oh no, is Butter part of the meal?” he joked, a soft laugh tinkling out of him.
“Need some protein,” I ribbed back, ruffling his bedhead.
