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I typed in my phone.

Try good boy as a compliment and see how he reacts.

“What are you writing?” Nate asked.

“Just an observance. You’re really good with Martin.”

He shrugged. “He’s in Marty time right now.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“His preferred name when he’s in little space.” He frowned. “You never said why you were interested in this all of a sudden. You don’t really have a little, do you?”

“Can I come in first?” I asked.

He blushed and stepped back. “Sure, sorry. I just got caught up in what you were asking.”

I followed him to a modest living room. He might not have gone to college like I’d hoped he would, but he’d made me proud, owning his shit as an adult. He was well respected at the tattoo shop where he worked, and a steady stream of clients kept him financially stable. Brianne didn’t work, but Martin was a nurse, and the three of them made their relationship work.

“Sorry for the mess.” Nate gestured at the floor littered with train sets and toys. He picked up a cushion from the floor and placed it back on the sofa. “Just sit anywhere you’re comfortable.”

I walked to the bright orange chair next to the sofa.

“Sorry, not there. That’s Brianne’s comfort spot.”

“Oh.” I itched to write down comfort spot, but I could remember that. I took another seat. “I know I called you out of the blue, and I hope I’m not interrupting your plans.”

“Nothing much going on tonight. You caught me at a good time.” He sat on the arm of the sofa. “Let’s hear it, then. What’s this about you having an interest in age play?”

“It’s for a case I’m working on.” I would have liked nothing more than to spill everything and tell him we were close to finding his mother’s killer, but I didn’t want to give him false hope. I’d promised him years ago, after his mom disappeared, that we would get her back, and we never did. Then I’d promised we’d find the person responsible for her disappearance, and that didn’t happen either.

“I see.” Pain flashed across his face, and he pressed his lips together. My job was a source of discontent between us. He’d told me I should have honored his mother’s memory by giving up the job she’d always warned would destroy our family. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything you can tell me about it.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I have to act as this boy’s Daddy to gain his trust enough for him to open up to me, and I’m not sure how to go about doing it. How did you get into this?” We’d never talked about it before.

“If you’re really interested in getting your boy to trust you, Dad, finding out what I do with my littles won’t help.”

I frowned. “You know if I didn’t need the help, I wouldn’t be asking you this, Nate. Please don’t do this right now.”

He rose to his feet. “I’m not being difficult. Sure, you can stay for a while and watch us as we play, but every little is different, and you have to find out what they need. As the caregivers, we may seem like the ones in control, but that’s simply not true. We do what our littles afford us and nothing more. At least a good and trustworthy caregiver wouldn’t want to strive for more.”

Footsteps neared, and Martin returned, holding the hand of a chubby young woman with a round face and pigtails. She stopped when she saw me, but Martin smiled at her and tugged her along gently.

“Daddy, we’re ready for playtime,” Martin said. He released Brianne’s hand and ran toward my son. Nate toppled over onto the couch, laughing, and Martin climbed onto him. An ache formed inside my chest at that happy sound. Brianne hurried toward the pair and wiggled her way into the tangle of arms and legs.

Nate had been so broken after his mother died, but these two littles had given him back his smile. I longed for that. My gaze dropped to the phone in my hand.

I was here for a job. That was all.


Tags: Gianni Holmes Dark