I expected, but after we made love for a second round early Sunday morning, we fell back asleep. When I woke up, Neil was having cereal at the breakfast counter, freshly showered and was dressed in his younger clothes. As soon as he greeted me with "Good morning, Mr. Brody," I knew he was definitely back in little mode.
And he’d stayed there every moment for the next five days unless he was at work or asleep. While I didn't—couldn't—regret what we'd shared, I couldn't help but wonder if the timing had been off. Did it feel like a mistake to him? He hadn’t seemed to regret it in the moment, but I wasn't a mind reader either.
Shut up, Brody. You know damn well you are good at reading body language.
Maybe he was worried about Mad Dog. He had every right to be, if that was the case. Nearly three weeks had passed since his release, and we still didn’t know where he was. Even my nerves were on edge. It only got worse with every passing day.
I glanced at Neil across the dinner table, reading on his phone and sneaking bits of his fish to the cats whenever he thought I wasn't paying attention. Hiding my smile, I looked down at my own plate. My boy thought he was slick, but I had his number. My boy? Though I shook my head at the mental slip, I couldn't deny how perfect it sounded.
Would becoming his Daddy really be so hard? I basically already was, in everything but name. I gave him rules to follow and punished him when warranted. We’d established a reward-based routine, complete with daily chores. I cuddled him when he needed it and got after him when he was bratty. I fed him nutritious meals, finding ways to fill his sweet tooth while respecting the diet he wanted to follow.
Sunday night, he had fallen in the backyard and skinned his knee. My Ranger training kicked in, and I calmly assessed the situation, carried him inside, and administered first aid. Yeah… everything pointed to me already being his Daddy. The question was, did I have the balls to step up and do it full-time from here on out?
A better question might be if Neil even wanted me himself. He’d asked such a vulnerable question on Sunday. Maybe my vague response was why he was hiding in little mode. I speared a chunk of cauliflower and thought about it some more before peeking back at Neil.
After blotting my mouth with a napkin and taking a big drink of water, I drummed my fingers on the table to get his attention. "Hey, Neil. Can I ask you something?"
When he lifted his head and smiled sweetly as he nodded, I immediately second-guessed myself and asked something else. "Remember how scared you were getting ready for work this morning? And how I helped you calm down by talking you through breathing and having you tell me things you could smell, see, feel and hear? I’ve seen you fight a panic attack prior to going on air a couple times. Does your job honestly stress you out so much? And if it does, why stick with it?"
Neil finished chewing what was in his mouth before answering. Judging by the look in his eyes, I could tell while he wasn't completely in his adult mindset right now, he wasn't immersed in his little zone either. "I like my job. People probably wouldn't believe me, but I don't even do it for the fame and attention. I'm good at it, and I think people deserve to know what's going on in the world."
He motioned to Lady Meow Meow, who happened to be the first cat he saw as he looked around. "Sure, I goof around sometimes and share my cat videos, but I do it on purpose. Brittany and I try to make the news fun because there aren't enough channels with cheerful news, especially early in the morning. They talk about accidents and how traffic’s been affected, but nobody ever worries about whether the people involved were hurt. We talk about the weather a lot but shy away from discussing topics like the homeless people stuck in it or the elderly who can't afford places with good air conditioning or heating."
Neil wiped his face and set his napkin and plate to the side. "The way I see it, a lot of scary stuff’s going on in the world. But a lot of good things