Page 8 of Daddy's Lost Rebel

That gets him really going. Full-bellied and loud laughs leave him while I stare at him, brows drawn in. It would be beautiful if it weren’t utterly confusing.

“I hunt for meat, yes,” he finally confirms, calming down from his chuckle-fit. “You don’t exactly see me farming the rest of the food or gathering nuts and berries in the woods, do you?”

Oh… right. “Uhhh.”

“I hunt deer because it’s here, and it’s good for the overpopulation in this area. I don’t do it to survive. If anything, I do it to stay out of town more often than not. I prefer not to go there if I don’t have to.”

“But you went for me.” My stomach flutters at the realization. “To get me clothes, I mean.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “I went for you.”

He clears his throat. “I have some things to do today. That deer from last night is fine because of the cold, but I need to butcher it and get the meat packed into the freezer before it spoils.”

Gross.“Okay, um, should I do anything?”

“Just relax for the day, it might storm later, and I don’t know if we’re expecting unwanted guests again, so stay inside. You can try on the clothes. Anything you don’t like or that doesn’t fit, I’ll return.”

I swallow down a protest, remembering that this is Weston. He’s not trying to buy me or use the nice things he’s doing against me. “Are you sure…”

“I’m positive.”

And that’s how our day goes. I relax while Weston keeps busy.

All of my clothes fit, ghastly as they are. They’re warm, and I can move around in them with ease. Plus, it makes my stomach all warm and fluttery to think that Weston bought them for me without even being asked. He got me a toothbrush as well, which is more than appreciated and put to use right after I finish my coffee.

By the end of the day, he’s fed us both dinner—spaghetti this time—and gotten all of his necessary tasks done. He filled the wood stove to keep the house warm and watched a full movie with me before taking me to bed. To sleep. Only to sleep.

Sadly.

* * *

Weston

I’m woken up too fucking early by an alarm I didn’t set. Because it’s not an alarm, it’s an alert. Someone is at the gate, letting themself in without permission.

Like a well-trained machine, I’m up and out of bed, waking a sleepy Beck and ushering him into the part of the house I haven’t shown him yet. He’s too groggy to really understand what’s happening, but trusting me enough to let me lead him around while he rubs his eyes and yawns. The sun is barely up, so I can’t exactly blame him.

Behind a false wall, I have a security room of sorts, one that I probably should have introduced him to already. The space is small but purposeful, not having much else besides the camera monitors that display the surrounding area of my cabin. In my little hidden room, I lift up the rug, and pull up the concealed basement door, guiding Beck down the stairs with a firm hand. The basement hideaway isn’t anything special, but it’s secure enough for me to feel good about leaving him here.

Settled at the bottom of the steps, I flick on the single dull light, making him wince.

“What is going on?” he grumbles, leaning against my bare chest.

“People are coming, my camera sensors alerted me. You need to stay here for me, okay?”

Wide awake now, his body becomes rigid. Eyes shiny with potential tears, he asks, “They came back?”

“I think so,” I say gently. “I haven’t taken a look at who it is. They’ll be here in a moment, so I need you to stay here, yes? It’s a hidden room. You’re safe here. Just wait for me and stay put. Okay?”

He trembles, shaken by the prospect of being taken back to where he so desperately doesn’t want to be. It makes my stomach churn, and my throat burn with acidic rage. Beck is a gentle soul; he can’t go back there. I won’t let him.

“Stay down here, Beck. Just be quiet, and stay here. I promise they won’t be able to see you or find you. No one knows about this place.”

“You really promise?” he croaks. It’s hard to believe, I know. It’s hard to trust anything when you don’t know for sure, and when you’re on the run, everything is a threat.

I press a warm kiss to the top of his head, hoping to calm him even just a bit. “I swear it,” I tell him firmly. “I won’t let them take you. Now promise me you’ll stay put.”

“I will, I will,” he vows. “I don’t want to leave.”

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