When we reach the car, I open the passenger door, take her hand, and help her into the low seat. She slides in slowly,tugging the edge of my hoodie over her thighs. I crouch slightly, brushing my fingers lightly over her waist as I click the seatbelt and pull it snug. My beard grazes her cheek as I stand, and I catch the faint hitch in her breath. I close the door, then circle the car—unable to hide the smile spreading across my face—and slide into the driver’s seat, the familiar leather cool beneath me.
She doesn’t question when I pull from the garage and head south of Midtown without asking for her address. The drive is slow and quiet at first, tires whispering over damp asphalt as we drive to her apartment. My hand settles on her thigh, thumb tracing lazy, absent circles against the baggy sweatpants. I don’t realize I’m doing it until I catch her watching me out of the corner of her eye with a tiny grin pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“You know,” she murmurs, her words are tentative, like she’s uncertain what to say, “your sister’s really sweet.”
I chuckle, a low sound. “Yeah?”
She nods. “Nothing like you,” she deadpans.
A laugh bubbles up, rough and unexpected. “Ouch.”
She shrugs, trying to maintain her composure, but a tiny giggle escapes her. “Eavan has always been one of the most important people in my life. Always will be.” The words come more easily than I expect. “She was so tiny when my parents brought her home. And I might’ve only been a child, but I knew immediately what my job was as her big brother.”
Madison listens in silence, but with her full attention, turning slightly to face me as I try to keep my eyes on the road instead of her.
“Our father was, well… too busy for her. For both of us, really. After we lost our mom, I swore to her that I’d protect her. I did a shit job of it for a few years,” I confess, unable to mask the guilt in my tone. “But there is literally nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”Nothing.
Madison’s hand slides over mine, and she squeezes it gently. “I don’t have a doubt in my mind how much you mean that.”
“I’ve already lost one person I couldn’t live without,” I continue, my thumb brushing along the back of her hand. “I won’t let that happen again. I don’t care what it costs me.” She saw my darkness last night, she knows I’m not bluffing.
Her gaze never leaves mine as her throat bobs with her hard swallow. “You aren’t what I expected,” she murmurs. Silence falls over the car, but I don’t push. I wait patiently for her to form her thoughts and continue. “It’s no secret what kind of man you are… I just never imagined there would be such a huge heart tucked inside such a ruthless man.”
“You’re mine now, firecracker,” I share, my voice low but sure. “You need to know beyond a doubt, there are no limits to what I would do to someone who would dare hurt you.” I see the flicker of emotion behind her eyes, something between fear and fierce trust.
Eyes narrowing slightly, Madison studies with curiosity, or maybe realization. “It’s not just a dirty word in the bedroom for you, is it?” she asks quietly, a hint of wonder in her voice. “You really are a Daddy.”
“No.” My tone deepens. “It’s not just a bedroom kink for me. It never was, especially with you. That word. It means something. It’s not about control and domination. It’s about responsibility and care—, making you feel secure enough to give yourself to me without ever questioning whether I’ll holdyou or hurt you. I want to make sure you feel safe enough to fall apart and know that I’m going to be there to help you put the pieces back together.”
She blinks, lips parting slightly.
“It means I take your safety personally,” I continue, barely able to pull my eyes from her to focus on the road. “I want to protect you from the world, but also from the shit that gets too loud in your own head. It means I’ll carry the weight for you. Even when you’re too fucking stubborn to ask for help.”
A shaky breath escapes her, but she doesn’t look away. She stares at me, like no one’s ever said anything like this to her before or vowed to worship her the way she deserves. “You barely know me,” she blurts, just above a whisper.
“I know more than enough,” I confess, reassuringly squeezing her thigh. “I’ve been fucking obsessed with you since the night we met in the bar. I want to give you the world, firecracker. You don’t have to do anything but let me.”
Her eyes shimmer as they well slightly with tears. When she finally speaks, her voice cracks around the edges. “I’ve never had someone want to take care of me like that.”
“You do now.” My words aren’t a promise; they’re a vow.
We drive in silence for the final few blocks to her apartment, the world outside blurring past, muted and distant—like we’ve slipped into a separate pocket of time where only the two of us exist. The hum of the engine fills the space between us, steady and grounding. Neither of us says a word, but her hand stays on mine the whole time, her thumb brushing over my skin like she’s reminding herself I’m real.
I pull up to the curb before her building. It is old—red brick mottled with ivy and well-weathered by time. The windowsare streaked with rain, catching the streetlights in long silver trails.
Rushing, I round the car and open the passenger door, extending my hand to help her from the seat. I pull her onto the sidewalk beside me, and my hand instinctively finds the small of her back as I lead her inside. She doesn’t pull away, not in the slightest. She leans into my touch like it’s something she needs more than she’ll ever admit.
My hand still on her back, the stairwell creaks beneath our feet as we climb the steps to her apartment, echoing softly in the narrow space as we reach the third-floor landing. She digs through her purse for her keys, her hands fumbling a little, betraying nerves she’s trying to keep in check.
“I didn’t say it last night…” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper. She turns slightly, still facing the door, fingers fidgeting with the keyring. Then, slowly, she fits one into the lock and pauses. When she finally turns back toward me, there’s something raw and unguarded in her expression. “But… thank you.”
Holding her stare, the softness in her eyes unravels me.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I insist, meaning every word.
“I do.” Her chin lifts with quiet resolve. “You came for me. You saved me.”
Staring down at her, my voice drops low, steady and unshakable. “I always will.”
