Healing Carson's Little - Izaia Winter Page 0,88

the other room,” he admitted.

So all of it.

“You left your mother in a bit of a mess.”

“Is she okay?”

“I saw to her. She’ll be fine,” he said, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “I could kill him for you. You know that, right?”

I laughed, thinking that was exactly what I had expected to hear from him.

“Seriously,” he replied, a small smile coming to his lips. “I’ll bury him out in the mountains somewhere they’ll never find him.”

“Dad!” I said with a giggle. “Stop it.”

He looked at me with a conspiratorial grin. “I can borrow a wood chipper from work.”

“Dad!” I leaned over and pushed his shoulder with mine. “I’d rather never think of him again. Isn’t that what they always say, that the best revenge is no revenge at all but to move on and be happy?”

He took a moment to really look at me. “And are you happy?”

“Yeah,” I said with a crooked smile. “I think I am.”

He nodded. “And Carson? He’s good to you? He seems a little intense sometimes.”

“He is,” I replied instantly. “He’s wonderful and nothing I don’t need.”

“Then I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, dad.” I sat up and leaned my head against his shoulder like I use to do as a kid.

“And I’m sorry, too. I should never have given you that ultimatum. I wanted to take it back the second I said it, but as my mama likes to say, I’m stupid and stubborn.”

I laughed, having no trouble imagining Memaw telling him that. “She would say that.”

“Only every time I see her.” His voice was dry and self-deprecating.

I was still laughing when mom opened the door to call us back in. When she didn’t say anything, I looked up to see her standing in the doorway, a tender look on her face as she watched us. “Breakfast is ready.”

Standing from the swing, I followed my parents back into the house and moved toward the stairs. “I’ll go get Carson.” I paused on the steps and looked down at my outfit. “And get dressed.”

I raced up the stairs and stopped at the bedroom door. Opening it slowly, I stepped inside to find Carson sleeping, that or he was just lounging in bed. He had rolled over onto his stomach with his face turned away from the door so I couldn’t be sure either way. Creeping across the room, I held in a giggle as I climbed into the bed.

Draping myself over his back, I kissed his cheek. “Good morning, Daddy.”

Carson opened the eye I could see and studied my face. “It went well?” He rolled over without warning, and I found myself sprawled across his chest. “You’ve been crying.” His fingers danced across my cheeks. They were still a little tender.

“I’m done, I swear.” I snuggled my face against his chest. “I feel like I’ve met my quota for the year.”

Carson laughed. “Littles with a crying quota? Impossible.”

“Crying over booboos and broken toys don’t count, Daddy,” I said with a pout.

“That’s what I thought.” Carson sighed as he laid his head back down. “Is it time to get up?”

“Yep, breakfast is ready. Pancakes and sausage and a whole lot of syrup.”

“Okay, let’s get dressed and downstairs.” He waited for me to move, but I liked where I was just fine, thank you. “You’re not moving. Up,” he said, with a swift pop of his hand against my butt.

My breath caught at the sting as I scurried up from the bed. I couldn’t ignore the bolt of pleasure that zipped through my body or the desire I felt to feel his hand against my bottom. I thought about saying something, but breakfast was waiting.

I was officially done. Capital D-O-N-E, done. No more. This little was pooped.

After a relaxing breakfast, we’d moved to the backyard while the morning was still chilly. I think even Carson was surprised by how easy the conversation flowed and how relaxed I was around my parents.

It was around noon when things took a turn for the worse. Memaw hadn’t been kidding when she’d said the news of my arrival was making its way around town.

I’d been showing off pictures of Cinder to my mom while Carson and my dad chatted about one football team or another when a knock sounded at the door.

“Who could that be?” she asked as she stood and went to see.

It was the Smiths from next door. They stayed for about an hour, obviously wanting an in on the gossip, but we refused to give it to them, so

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