His Accidental Daddy

by Luna, David

  “I broke it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Sweetheart, let me help you. You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’ll be just fine. I just need to…” He wiped ineffectually at his foot, realizing he hadn’t gotten all the glass out when it hurt like a motherfucker. “Shit.”

  He rubbed the sweatshirt sleeve across his eyes and realized it had blood all over it. “Oh, no. Your sweatshirt. I’m… I’m so sorry.” Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

  “Asher, hey, baby, look at me. Come on. Take some deep breaths.”

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t take any breaths at all. He clutched at his chest. Why couldn’t he breathe? Sobbing and dizzy, he reached out to try to grab something solid. Something to tether him, to make the world settle under him again. What he gripped in his hand was Thornton’s arm, and he sobbed at the strength in it, knowing he’d never be able to count on that strength again.

  He couldn’t stop the tears or the gasping breaths he was trying so desperately to take. He heard a snap of fingers. “Beauty, Beast, stay back.”

  He gasped out, “The glass.”

  “They’re fine. They won’t step on the glass. Sweetheart, I’m going to pick you u—”

  He shook his head and as he continued to sob. His chest was wracked with pain at the quickly drawn breaths and shaking body. He couldn’t calm down. Why couldn’t he calm down? He hadn’t had a panic attack this bad in years.

  “Boy!” He jumped, jerking his head back to meet Thornton’s worried gaze. “Keep your eyes on me. Feel my chest moving in and out. Feel it expand and contract with my breaths. In and out, sweetheart. In and out. Do it with me, please.”

  He shook his head, unable to focus enough to do what he was being asked to do.

  “Asher, you’ll do as I say. Focus on your senses. What color are my eyes?”

  What? Why would he…? He blinked rapidly to bring his eyes into focus. God, those eyes. Specks of brown surrounded by golden hues. But that sounded too romantic, so he settled on… “Amber.”

  Thornton smiled. “And here I thought they were brown.”

  He shook his head, trying to breathe but only able to pull in short, shallow breaths. “And my hair? What color is my hair?”

  “Br—brown.”

  “That’s right.” Thornton. “Listen. What do you hear?”

  He closed his eyes and heard the puppies crying. “Beauty. Beast.”

  “That’s right. They’re worried about you. You don’t want them worried about you, do you?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to worry the pups. Thornton pulled one of his hands up to his cheek. “What do you feel?”

  He moved his fingers under Thornton’s, and his breath caught before he was able to draw in more air. “Your beard.”

  “That’s right. You’re doing really well, Asher.”

  He didn’t understand why Thornton’s words were getting to him, but he found himself focusing on the man’s muscular chest as it breathed in and out, and slowly, his vision started to clear when he began to draw in regular breaths. In and out. In and out, like Thornton said. He hurt all over. His head, his chest and ribs, his foot, and his stupid finger. Everything hurt.

  His tears were silent now. No more heaving breaths, no more uncontrollable sobs. They just fell unchecked down his cheeks. “You’re all right. You’re breathing just fine. Everything is okay. Keep breathing with me. That’s it.”

  They sat there together, dogs whining from outside the bathroom, both him and Thornton on the floor breathing in time with each other. When he finally felt steadier, he pulled his hand away, unable to touch and receive comfort from Thornton. He couldn’t count on him. He’d never be able to count on him again. He closed his eyes, a whimpering sob slipping out at the heartbreak of that. Of what he was losing before it was even his to claim.

  Gathering himself together, he glanced down at his foot and realized it was still bleeding. Grabbing the toilet paper he’d dropped on the floor, he held it to the cuts on his foot, pressing down hard, ignoring the pain it caused and the knowledge he must still have some little pieces in there. He’d deal with them later. He just had to go home. Once he was home, he’d be okay. Everything would be okay.

  Once he got the bleeding under control, he realized Thornton had been talking to him, and he hadn’t heard a word. “… me what’s wrong? I don’t understand what happened. You were sleeping on the sofa, and then I heard the crash of glass on the floor and rushed up here.”

  “I have to go home.”

  The silence was deafening, and then finally, “What? Asher, you can’t go home. You’re in no state to take care of yourself. You need help while you’re getting better. You said you’d stay and recuperate here. What changed?”

  He shook his head as he got up on his knees and gripped the counter to help pull himself to stand. His foot hurt like a bitch, but so did his chest, and what the fuck else was new? Once he was steady enough to move, he watched as Thornton scrambled to his feet, towering over him, his expression confused and, if he wasn’t mistaken, sad. He couldn’t let that deter him. It was how his parents would look at him when he wasn’t doing what they wanted or needed from him.

  Firming his resolve, he used the wall to hobble a few steps over the rug and then was about to take a big step over the glass and onto the carpet of the bedroom when he was scooped up in strong arms, making his chest ache with what he could no longer have. “I need to pack my things. I have to go home. Please, put me down.”

  He was placed gently on the bed, where he tried to get right back up. But hands were on his cheeks, wiping them free of tears and turning his gaze up to meet Thornton’s. “Talk to me, baby. Please. I know you’re hurting physically and emotionally right now, but I don’t know why. Please, Asher. Talk to me.”

  The tear at the corner of Thornton’s eye had his own eyes filling with them again. He shook his head to dispel the urgency to do as Thornton asked. He blinked, and the new tears fell. Shaking his head, he pulled away. “I can’t. I just… Thornton, I want to go home.”

  After several beats of silence, he heard Thornton breathe out a shaky breath. “Okay. All right. Let me pack your things for you, and then I’ll take you home.”

  “No! No, Thornton. I’ll call a Lyft or a cab.”

  “I’m not sending you home in a Lyft car with a stranger, Asher. I’ll take you there myself.”

  He shook his head, panic hitting him full force at the thought of being forced into a car with him. “I won’t go with you. I won’t. You’re not fit to drive.”

  “What the hell? Where did that come from?”

  “You’re drunk!” Asher practically spat the words at him.

  “Drunk? Asher, what are you talking about? I haven’t had anything to drink.”

  How could he say that to his face? “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m not lying. I haven’t had anything to drink. I got out a—”

  Asher covered his ears and rocked back and forth on the bed, unable to hear anymore. “Don’t. Please don’t. That’s what they used to say. All the time they’d lie and tell me they hadn’t had anything to drink. It was always a lie. Don’t do that to me. Don’t lie to me, Thornton.”

  He didn’t know how to handle lies coming from Thornton. He was supposed to be different. Realizing that he was just the same as his parents shattered his heart into millions of pieces. He’d started to care. Too much, too fast. And he hadn’t controlled his feelings like he should have.

  They’d never have what he had imagined. They’d never be the friends Thornton had promised him they would be. He sat there, curled up as tight as his ribs would allow, hands still over his ears, eyes closed tight against the pain, and he cried.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thornton

  Oh, god, the sight of Asher protecting himself from Thornton’s words and what he believed to be true broke Thornton in a way he couldn’t even specify. His feelings
were all over the place. Pain, sorrow, frustration, determination, horror, anguish, and pride. God, he felt proud of Asher for standing up to him, for pushing back, for refusing to back down. He had a very brave boy on his hands, and he was going to reward that behavior.

  But first things first. The boy had to see for himself he wasn’t lying. Asher wasn’t in a place that would allow him to see reason any other way. He slid his arm under the boy’s legs and wrapped his other around the boy’s back, lifting him as gently as he could. The moan and whimper, most likely a result of pain, nearly did him in. “I’m sorry, baby. So sorry. I’m taking you downstairs. I need to show you something.”

  Asher just sighed and went limp in his arms, the fight suddenly slipping away, leaving only a husk of what he’d been before. Thornton would move heaven and earth to bring back the boy he’d been with earlier that day. The boy who had told him secrets of his past, the boy who had enjoyed the first sexual stimulation he’d ever received from someone else, the boy who had cuddled up to him, admitting that he felt protected when Thornton surrounded him with his warmth, and the boy who said he loved being called sweetheart, baby, and good boy.

  He walked downstairs and into the kitchen with the boy still held snug in his grip, murmuring words to him as he went. “You’re all right, sweet boy. I’m here. We’ll get you home if you need to go. I promise I’ll take care of you. Don’t be scared. I’ll never hurt you, Asher.”

  He sat Asher down on the counter beside the crockpot where their dinner sat warming. On their way downstairs, Asher had placed his hands in his lap, and they stayed there as Thornton clasped the boy’s cheeks in his hands, wiping at the stray tears. When Asher’s heartbroken eyes met his—eyes that were glistening with more tears yet to fall, his lashes shimmering with them—it was all he could do to draw in a breath and forge on with his plan. Not sure it was the best thing to do but not knowing what else would convince him.

  “I didn’t lie to you, Ash.” When Asher’s eyes closed and those fresh tears fell, Thornton shored up his determination, heart aching. “Open those beautiful eyes, baby. I won’t ever lie to you. That’s a promise. I think you must have seen my beer sitting here on the bar.”

  Instead of looking at the bottle, Asher turned his head away, almost like it was just too much for him to bear. “Asher, be my brave boy for a second, please. Give me your trust once more. I promise I won’t squander it. Let me prove to you it’s not misplaced.”

  There was a spark in the boy’s eyes, but his emotions were all over the place, so Thornton couldn’t tell if it was anger, disbelief, or a challenge. Probably a combination of all three. “Look at the bottle. All I did was take the lid off. It’s completely full. I thought it sounded good when I started making the chili, and then I forgot it was even there.”

  Asher’s eyes blinked up at him, and then, almost against his will, they seemed to turn towards the bottle and then back to him, as if he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing it, especially if Thornton was lying. But he wasn’t, and he hoped like hell Asher would see it for the truth. Jesus, his boy had suffered enough. When Asher finally found the strength to glance over at the bottle, he just stared at it in disbelief.

  “I swear to you, I haven’t had a drop. It’s been sitting there for over an hour. No more condensation. It’s warm.” He turned and pulled out the drawer containing his recycling bin and his trash. “Look, there are no other bottles either. I’m one hundred percent sober.”

  He picked the bottle up and held it between them. Asher lurched back and sucked in a breath, as if he’d been burned. God, it was so much worse than he’d thought. He set it down again, gently picked Asher up, and set his feet on the floor. With his arm wrapped around Asher’s slim waist, he walked them over to the sink and began pouring out the beer.

  Asher turned in his arms as if he couldn’t bear to watch it, burying his face in Thornton’s armpit and wrapping his arms around Thornton’s waist. That was something. No, that was more than something. That was everything. Having those arms wrapped around him when Asher had just been so distrustful meant the world to him.

  He leaned down and kissed the top of Asher’s head and then stretched the remaining distance to throw the empty bottle in the recycle bin. Capturing the boy’s face between his gentle palms, he lowered his head until it touched Asher’s. Wrapping his arms around Asher’s shoulders, he whispered, “I won’t ever lie to you, Asher. I promise you.”

  He pulled away enough to look into Asher’s eyes and said it again to be sure. “I promise, baby.”

  A final tear slid down Asher’s cheek. Thornton drew him in, and they just stood there for a bit, Thornton swaying them both for comfort. Pulling back finally, Thornton asked, “Do you still want to go home?”

  Asher hesitated but nodded, sending Thornton’s heart plummeting. But this wasn’t about him any longer; it was about Asher, so all he did was pull him in for another hug. “All right. I’ll drive you then.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry. I can’t be around someone who drinks. I just can’t. It’s a trigger for me. I should have asked you before I came here. Alcohol isn’t a part of my life anymore, and I have to keep it that way. It’s not about you. It’s about me and what I can and can’t handle.”

  He nodded, feeling an enormous sense of loss when he stepped away from Asher and turned to head upstairs. “Let me go pack your things.”

  Searching his mind for some solution that didn’t involve Asher leaving, the obvious finally occurred to him, and he stopped in his tracks. “Asher, if the alcohol wasn’t here, would you want to leave?”

  The boy closed his eyes and opened them again, taking several deep breaths while Thornton looked on, waiting for Asher’s decision. When it finally came in the form of a shake of his head and a whispered, “No,” Thornton couldn’t believe the overwhelming sense of relief he felt.

  “Oh, sweet boy. You’re being so brave. I’m going to dump everything, all right? And I want you to watch so you know I’m not hiding anything from you.”

  “But I don’t want you to have to do that. It’s not fair to you.”

  “You’ve essentially given me a choice. Whether you meant to or not, that’s the long and short of it. And I choose you, Asher. I choose you over having alcohol here. You mean more to me than any alcohol ever could. So much more.”

  That must have been the breaking point because Asher crumpled in front of him, huge sobs wracking his small frame. Thornton gently scooped him up again and walked them out of the kitchen and into the family room as his boy continued to sob. Sitting down on the couch, he nestled Asher in his lap. The sobs, though continuing, began to ebb, until minutes later, they stopped altogether.

  “Asher, I’m so proud of you right now.”

  The boy’s blotchy red face turned up to meet his. “Why?”

  “You said before you thought you might not be able to say no to me. And you said no to me in a monumental way. No matter what I said, you told me no. I had to prove myself to you for you to change your mind.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “God, baby. Don’t be sorry. I love that you did that. You proved to me that you are strong enough to say no to me and mean it. And I think you proved that to yourself as well. That’s a big deal.”

  Asher sat on his lap in silence but finally looked up again. “I guess it is.”

  “Will you stay with me if I remove every trace of alcohol from the house?”

  “Yes. But I feel bad I know it’s expen—”

  “The expense doesn’t matter to me. You matter to me. Will you let me take care of you properly now? I think your foot has stopped bleeding, but I’m worried about more glass being in there.”

  “Yes, please. I’m sorry I broke your glass.”

  What was Thornton going to do with him? “It was an accident. The glass doesn’t matter.”

  He slipped Asher from his lap and went to get the things he’d need to fix the boy’s foot and finger. After tweezing three tiny slivers of glass ou
t of his foot, he wrapped gauze around it and put a bandage on his finger. He pulled the sweatshirt gently off the boy and wrapped the soft fleece blanket around his shoulders to keep him warm while he was gone. He handed Asher the remote control. “Here, watch something for a few minutes while I make sure everything is cleaned up in the bathroom.”

  “There’s blood on the rug. I’m—”

  “Don’t. Don’t apologize. You were afraid. Give yourself a break, sweetheart. The blood will wash out; I’ve got a ton of glasses just like the one that broke. Okay?” When Asher nodded, he leaned down and kissed his head.

  Upstairs, he grabbed a new sweatshirt. Once he had everything cleaned up and Asher’s toiletries unpacked, he dug in the boy’s bag for his coloring things, knowing the noise in Asher’s brain needed to be smoothed out, softened. He had a feeling coloring was the one constant in Asher’s life he could count on to take him out of what Thornton thought of as his “adult” headspace. He knew Asher would think of it as a simple stress reliever.

  It broke his heart Asher hadn’t had security in his life except that which he made for himself. He knew Asher would thrive in a setting where someone else was providing that security, and he just hoped age regression would be the way he could finally find that, with a proper Daddy to help him feel secure and strong even when he didn’t feel as if he was. If anyone needed a Daddy, Asher did. He also had to admit to himself he was already thinking of Asher as his boy.

  He didn’t know if it would work out. But god, did he hope it would. He didn’t worry if they were compatible. He felt a closeness with Asher he hadn’t felt with his other boys. There was a deep-seated need in Asher to be loved and cared for, to be coddled and cherished. He wanted to be the one to show Asher how he should be treated, how he deserved to be treated.

  “I brought you some coloring books. Do you want to sit on the floor at the coffee table, or do you want to sit here and I can bring you a lap board?”

  The happiness in Asher’s eyes when they met his finally settled the remaining doubts he’d had since he’d seen Asher bleeding on the floor of his bathroom. “I’ll sit at the coffee table.”