Page 5 of Daddy's Christmas Rescue
My stomach chose that moment to make a quiet growl, betraying me completely. Heat crawled up my neck. I set the mug down fast, like that might make the sound go away.
Blake didn’t comment. Just turned to the crockpot and started ladling stew into a bowl. I couldn’t stop watching him. The way he moved—sure and quiet, everything he did had purpose. It was strange, seeing someone do somethingfor me.I wasn’t used to that. I didn’t know how to accept it without feeling like I was stealing.
He set the bowl in front of me. “It’s hot. Careful.”
Staring for a moment before I picked up the spoon, the steam fogged my face. The smell of meat and vegetables hit me like a memory when Nana was alive. I took one bite, then another, and my throat hurt so much from swallowing that I almost cried.
“Slow down,” he murmured. Not a scold. Just…gentle. Like a hand on the small of my back, guiding.
I forced myself to eat slower. Tried to remember how to take small bites. I’d forgotten how to be normal around food.
When the bowl was half-empty, my stomach finally stopped twisting. My whole body felt heavy, like I could melt right there into the chair. Blake took the bowl when I pushed it away, washed it without a word. I caught myself wanting to help, but I didn’t move. I didn’t know what would earn a thank you or what would earn a glare.
He dried his hands on a towel and turned toward me. “You look dead on your feet. You should get some rest.”
The words made my heart jump. “Rest” meant different things depending on who said it. But his voice didn’t have that sharp edge I was used to. Just quiet certainty.
“I can stay on the couch,” I said quickly, before he could take it back. “Or even on the floor. I don’t need much.”
Blake frowned. “You’ll sleep in a bed.”
That made me flinch automatically. I didn’t mean to. He noticed, of course. He didn’t move closer, though. Just scrubbed a hand through his hair like he was trying to figure out the right way to fix what he’d just broken.
“There’s a guest room,” he said finally. “You’ll be safe.”
Safe. I didn’t know how to believe that word anymore. But he said it like it was a fact, not a promise. I followed him down the hall, my fingers twisted tight in the ribbon.
The guest room was small but warm. A big, soft-looking bed with a quilt folded at the end. A lamp with a soft yellow glow. The kind of room you’d see in a magazine and think,that looks like home.
He stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and nodded to the inside. “Bathroom’s through that door. New toothbrush in the basket, Fresh towels are in there. You can shower if you want. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”
“Okay.” My voice came out small, like a child being told bedtime rules. I hated how that sounded. But some part of me—the small, quiet part that still wanted to color inside the lines and be told she was good—relaxed at his tone.
When he turned to go, I blurted, “Thank you.” It came out breathy, shaky.
He paused, looked back over his shoulder. His expression softened, just a little. “You’re welcome, Holly.”
When he was gone, I shut the door and stood there for a long time, and still clutched his jacket. It was way too big, swallowing me whole. I pulled the sleeves over my hands, breathing in the faint scent of soap and cedar and something else—him. It was stupid, but I liked it. It made me feel safe, and I didn’t trust that feeling at all.
Biscuit’s nails clicked down the hallway, then a soft huff outside the door. I opened it a crack and found him lying there, tail thumping once.
“You can come in,” I whispered.
He did. Walked right over and pressed his big head into my side. Without thinking, I slid down onto the floor beside him. His fur was warm under my cheek. His breathing was steady.
I pressed closer and whispered, “You’re a good boy.”
He sighed, deep and content, and I felt something in me settle for the first time in forever.
Maybe I could borrow some of his calm. Just for tonight.
I curled up next to him, one hand buried in his fur. The room was dim and safe and smelled like pine and warmth. My eyelids grew heavy.
I wasn’t ready to believe I’d found a safe place. Not yet. But maybe… maybe I’d found someone who wouldn’t throw me away for wanting to be small.
And as I drifted toward sleep, I thought,maybe that’s enough for now.
Chapter three
