Page 59 of Don't Call Me Daddy
She shakes her head and closes her eyes as she tries to take another strained breath. “It’s in my … in my dresser,” she croaks out.
I barely wait for her to finish before tearing off in a sprint through the house. I pull out her dresser drawer and dump the contents on the floor, then move to the next one, dumping everything out in a panic until I find what I’m looking for.
Who keeps their life-saving medication tucked away in the bottom drawer of their dresser, next to their workout clothes, and not with them in a purse or something?
I sprint back through the house and find her doubled over again, wheezing and coughing.
“Here. Here. Breathe this in.” I shake it up and hold it out for her, encouraging her to take deep breaths.
She takes a few puffs of the inhaler before her wheezing quiets and she’s able to take deeper breaths. She relaxes a little as I hold her to me, tucking her under my arm as my own breathing starts to calm.
“There you go. I’ve got you.” I smooth her hair down and kiss the top of her head as I try to blink back the fear that flashed before my eyes, watching her struggle like that. Feeling like the biggest asshole for screaming at her while she was having an asthma attack.
Fuck. I didn’t even know she had asthma.
“I’m sorry,” she says with a cough.
I move to sit in a rocking chair, pulling her into my lap. My trembling hand rubs circles along her back to soothe her, but truthfully, it’s more for me.
I take my own deep breaths, urging myself to calm down now that I know she’s safe. “Shh. Let’s not talk about that right now. I just need you to focus on breathing and calming down, okay?”
She nods her head, and I feel a hot, wet tear land on my arm, and it almost kills me, knowing that I had anything to dowith that tear. Despite my anger, I should’ve noticed she was struggling, and instead, I made her chase me up the steps and tore into her, unloading all my pent-up frustration.
Eventually, her wheezing turns to whimpers, and I realize she’s crying, so I spin her to face me. We’re both soaked now, my oxford shirt hanging off one of her shoulders. She straddles a leg on either side of me, and I cradle her to my chest, breathing in her sweet scent.
My heart aches with each and every sob she lets out, which just makes me hold her tighter as my protective urges settle back down in the place I’ve kept them trapped for far too long. Fuck, it feels good to hold her like this, to be the one who comforts her while she cries … even if I’m the reason for her tears. I forget how much I’ve missed having someone to care for, how much I crave being needed. And more than ever, I am keenly aware of just how much I’ve been missing, of what I truly want.
I bring my hands to her waist, running my thumbs along the exposed flesh of her hips, hating how even the faintest of touches of her skin has my body responding. This is the last thing I need right now, but somehow, I can’t seem to shake the desire from my mind.
What if it could be different this time? What if she was into it too?
I shake the thought from my head. This isn’t the time for that. The poor thing just had a fucking asthma attack, and I’m wondering if she’d fit into my lifestyle.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Get your head out of your ass, Leo.
She’s shaking like a leaf, all pitiful and teary-eyed, and I think I’d do anything to put a smile on her face right now. The world is off-balance when Ivy cries, like a unicorn without its wings or a black-and-gray rainbow, and it knocks the breath from my lungs, making my heart hurt.
I lift her chin and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Baby girl, I hate seeing you like this. Tell me what I can do to make it better. Do you need medicine? Water?”
She shakes her head and purses her lips as I brush her wild, wavy hair from her face, cradling her against me as she sobs.
“Are you hurting then? What’s wrong? What can I do for you to make you feel better?” I ask, feeling helpless.
She sucks in a shaky breath and sits up. “It’s not that.” Cough. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me.” Cough. “I didn’t do it on purpose, and I feel so bad about everything that happened.” Cough. “It all just happened so fast, and I didn’t think?—”
“Shh.” I press my finger to her lips. “You’re getting yourself worked up again, and you’re going to make your asthma flare back up. You need to take a deep breath.”
She sucks in a couple of deep breaths through her nose, and when she’s breathing easier, I pull her back to lie on my chest.
“Tell me about the asthma. Is it something you struggle with often? Because I really think you should carry your emergency inhaler on you from now on.”
“No. It’s usually only activity-induced, but I’m pretty good at catching it before it turns into an attack. I haven’t had a flare-up in years. I used to get them when I was little though, when I’d get upset.”
I rub my hand down her back in a soothing motion, trying to keep her calm as best I can. “And I upset you tonight. When I yelled at you.” It’s not a question. I know I caused this, and I don’t need her to take it easy on me. I need her to tell me I did this; I need her to be angry with me.
She sucks in a breath, and her voice shakes. “I just felt so guilty because you were right. I messed up tonight, and I feel so bad about it, and I just want you to know that I didn’t do iton purpose. Not exactly anyway …” Her voice trails off, and my hand stills.
“What do you mean by that?”
