Healing Carson's Little - Izaia Winter Page 0,58

bar district. When we’d moved in upstairs before the renovations had started, Foster and I had unanimously voted to invest in intensive soundproofing after listening to a week of drunken people yelling in the street, club music coming at us from all directions, and sirens, so many damn sirens.

Parking in the first available spot I could find, I hopped out. Checking his apartment number, I found his door after a few minutes of wandering around and knocked.

I could hear his footsteps approaching the door and knew he was looking at me through the peephole. The deadbolt slid back, a chain jingled, and another lock disengaged. Miller opened the door looking cute and awkward.

He was wearing a pair of simple, navy shorts, a black and white striped shirt, and everyday canvas sneakers. Nothing he wore hinted at the little he was, and I wondered if that was by choice or defense.

“Hi. Uhhh come on in.” He opened the door wider and stepped back. “It’s not much…”

It was tiny. I could see his entire apartment from where I stood in the entryway, but it was undeniably him. The funky, yellow chair and the potted plant on the windowsill made up his living room. There were a couple of paintings on the walls, mostly random landscapes, and I assumed he treated them like windows since the one with the plant was the only one I saw.

There was a single dresser by his twin-sized bed and a black cat staring at me from her position of importance on a large body pillow. Crossing the room toward Cinder, I reached for the little ragamuffin Miller loved so much.

“Careful, she’s not really a people person…,” he said, trailing off as Cinder purred under my hand.

Standing, she stretched her paws, giving me a quick flash of claws, and then butted her head against my leg.

“Huh, maybe she just doesn’t like Lee.”

I laughed, imagining the kitty not taking to the puppy.

“So…”

I looked over to see Miller standing where I’d left him by the door.

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“Nope, just yourself.” I rolled my eyes. “And the usual wallet and keys and such.”

He twisted his hands together in front of himself as he rocked back and forth. “I made cookies.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, he grabbed a plastic storage bag from the counter. He held them to his chest, looking pleased with his work. “They’re chocolate chip and sprinkles.”

I wasn’t convinced sprinkles was a flavor, but let him have it. “They look delicious.”

“They are,” he confirmed. “I already had one, and it was amazing.”

Dropping my gaze to his mouth, I noticed a speck of chocolate on his bottom lip. He watched me with wide eyes as I approached. Lifting my hand, I swiped at the spot of chocolate and popped my finger into my mouth.

“Only one?”

“Okay,” he said, looking down at the bag ruefully. “Maybe it was closer to three.”

Laughing, I kissed his forehead. “You got everything?”

Nodding, Miller reached over and snagged his backpack from the tiny kitchen counter. “Yep.”

I followed him out of his apartment and waited as he locked up. Turning on my phone, I pulled up direction for a lovely park I’d found and pulled out of the complex. Traffic was light, and we arrived within ten minutes. Getting out, I happily followed Miller around as he scoped out the perfect spot.

Under a giant oak tree, Miller finally stopped and turned to me. “Right here, I think.”

Placing the basket on the ground, I unstrapped the blanket and flapped it in the wind. With a laugh, Miller quickly dropped down on it as the wind teased the edges. Grabbing the little stakes, I fed them through the loops at the corners and secured our blanket to the ground.

“Wow, fancy.”

“Only the best,” I replied with a wink as I sat down next to him and reached for the basket. Setting the food out, I was pleased to see Miller waiting patiently as I served him.

“Here you go, little darling.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” He froze, his eyes focused on the container in his hand.

Still basking in the pleasure I felt at hearing him call me Daddy, I cupped his cheek in my hand and tilted his face back. Looking at his dazed expression, I knew the title had been a slip of the tongue. “Remember, when you’re ready,” I reminded him. “If you want to say it, go for it, but if you don’t, there’s no reason to force yourself.”

Nodding against my palm, Miller looked up at me and licked his lips. “Yes,

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