Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me - Chara Croft Page 0,54

but that was a dick move since yes, this was a huge pain in the ass, but it still wasn’t her problem, especially since she was busy being all disgustingly romantical with her man this weekend.

I just had to just suck it up and work though it, log on to my banking app and sort it out, and eventually, I did. Got the money transferred. Got my fucking gas tank filled. Even managed to finally get my ass over to Andy’s, even though maybe I should have just cancelled.

I had no coat.

I was thirty fucking minutes late.

I was—just like I’d tried to tell him—a living, breathing fuck up on every single level… and the way my night had been going so far, it wouldn't surprise me at all if this was when he finally figured that out, too.

12

Andy

For the first few months after my dad had walked out on us, I’d fed the girls nothing but snacks and processed foods. Then, once I realized that Mom was skipping her own meals since there wasn’t enough to go around, I’d sat down with a calculator, the weekly flyer from the grocery store, and a month’s worth of grocery receipts and figured out that the way to stretch our food budget was for me to learn to cook.

So I did.

It did not go well… at first.

But we all survived my learning curve, eventually I got better at it, and at some point, I realized I actually enjoyed cooking for people I cared about. Since moving out on my own, though, I hadn’t had as much opportunity to do that, so it’s possible that I went a little overboard in trying to make something nice for Jordan… and unfortunately, fussing with it in the kitchen also meant I didn’t even realize he was running late until ten minutes past.

By fifteen past and still no sign of him or any messages, I was worried, and once he was officially twenty minutes late and didn’t answer when I called, I needed Ellen to talk me down from a totally unreasonable panic.

She wasn’t cooperating.

“I may want him to be my boy, but he is a grown man who can take care of himself just fine without me hovering,” I reminded her, shoving my feet into a pair of boots. “Right?”

She rubbed her shoulder against the shoe rack by the door, ignoring me.

“But what if he does need me?” I asked, grabbing my keys out of the bowl by the door. “I mean, I don’t want him to have to need me, not like that, but if he’s in trouble…”

I grabbed the door handle, then froze.

I had no idea where Jordan lived.

I had no idea which direction he might be coming from.

I had no idea what route he would have taken to get to my house.

“Shit,” I said, throwing my keys at the wall as my overactive protective instincts slammed up against a wall of unreasonable worries and exploded in a burst of pure frustration.

Yes, Jordan was a grown-ass man, but I wanted to hover. And yes, he could take care of himself, but I wanted to be the one who took care of him. And right now, I wanted to do that by going out and finding him, bringing him home, and seeing with my own two eyes that he was okay... or else fixing whatever was wrong until I could make things okay for him.

And I couldn’t.

Ellen turned to stare at the wall, blinking as she eyed the chipped paint where my keys had hit, then started grooming her armpit.

“I know, Ellen,” I said, my chest suddenly feeling tight. “You’re right. He probably is fine. There are a million totally harmless reasons he could be late.”

He had to be fine. He mattered too much to me not to be fine.

But if he was fine, and he wasn’t here, and he wasn’t answering me… had I been wrong about us after all? I couldn’t have been, though. Not when it felt so right. Not when everything about him was perfect for me, and everything about me felt like it might just be perfect for him, too.

Unless I was wrong? Had I pushed him too hard? Was I actually too intense? Should I have questioned what Jordan needed more before just deciding I’d already figured it all out? Was he actually fine... but he just didn’t want to be here?

I stared blindly at my keys, then finally stooped to pick them up. I wasn’t used to this