I take a deep breath in front of the door. I’m marginally confident I got this right. Marginally being the keyword. She spent most of the last year in her goth phase, and I always believed that was simply her trying to get my attention.
Based on the way she’s dressed tonight, I feel more certain. She’s softer than I’ve seen her in a long time. Pink boots and sweater. Pink bow. The only black parts of her outfit are her tights and the plaid in her skirt. Her makeup is subtle, or it was before the attack. Her eyeliner was normal. Pink eyeshadow. I suspect pink lipstick, too. It certainly wasn’t black. I would be able to see the remnants of that.
I open the door and guide her into the room with a hand on the small of her back. “You can change anything you want, Simone. I couldn’t be sure what you might like. I had to guess.”
All of a sudden, I’m fucking nervous. Needlessly. It’s just paint and bedding, for fuck’s sake. Like I said, she can change it.
She stands very still for a long time and then turns toward me and silently wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
I blow out a relieved breath and gingerly wrap my arms around her. I don’t want to hurt her. I kiss the top of her head. I’ve never let my lips get anywhere near this Little girl.
We stand like this for a long time. She’s silently crying. Her body is shaking, and she’s sniffling.
“Shhh, Little one. Everything is going to be okay.” I let myself bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply. She smells like lavender. I’ve smelled this on her before. It must be her favorite. Which works out great since I bought her lavender toiletries.
If I’ve overstepped, I’m going to regret this for the rest of my life. Even if I got everything right, she might not appreciate me essentially plotting out her life without any input from her. It’s kind of creepy.
“So…” I finally say, “pink?”
She leans her head back and gives me a smile. It has to hurt because she winces. Her face is a mess, and I’m trying not to point that out. I don’t think she’s seen it yet, but she must know it’s bad because one eye is swollen almost shut.
“Yeah…pink.”
I blow out an exaggerated breath. “Way to keep a guy waiting,” I tease. “I never thought the goth thing was legit. I suspected it was more of a rebellious stage to taunt me.”
She rests her better cheek against my chest and hugs me again.
I continue, “I decided one of your earlier phases was probably more authentic. It was softer with lots of pinks.”
She nods against me.
“But we can change it if I’m wrong or you decide to go black. It might get a bit dark in here if we paint the walls and ceilings black, but we can always change it.”
“Shut up,” she mutters against me.
I chuckle, making both of us shake. “You’re going to be a handful for the next few weeks while you’re healing. I can tell already. There’s no way I would spank you while you’re covered in bruises and hurting, so you get a pass, but don’t think I won’t keep a tally of your naughty behavior and discipline you when you’re healed.”
I’m rambling.
She sniffles and repeats, “Shut. Up.”
I hold her closer. I don’t want to hurt her, but fuck…
“I know it’s late, and you need sleep more than anything in the world, but I bet you’ll feel better after a bath, huh?”
“Yeah. That would be nice.”
“And maybe something to drink?”
“I’m sure bourbon would do the trick.”
I laugh. “Not a chance. Nice try, naughty girl.”
She gasps and leans back to look me in the eyes. “You’re not going to let me drink alcohol?”
I’m confident she’s fucking with me. She’s always been a handful. I expect nothing less. I’m actually pleased she’s able to joke around tonight. “Never.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You can’t tell me not to drink, Camden.” She emphasizes my name. It’s the first time she’s said it, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s better than her calling me Professor Arnalt. I hope we’re done with that phase of our lives.
