The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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I donβt call. But I do tell Emily how much I hate Miranda calling me darling, which makes my sweet girl smile.
I make it my mission to draw out that smile during the hours Iβm awake. After getting the nod from the male nurse, who seems to be her guru in all things brain-injury related, Emily reads to me by the hour, even when Iβm sleeping. I ask her read her own books to me, but she gives me a shy smile and claims she doesnβt have them with her. Instead, she reads to me from the works of Arthur Conan Doyle, because she says Sherlock Holmes is her second favorite detective. That gives me the opening to talk with her about investigative methods in general, and my search for the brick in particular, so that I can normalize my injury as much as possible. I know seeing me hurt must have terrified my little girl, even if sheβs putting on the bravest of brave faces.
She smiles much more easily after I give her a schedule on the third day after my surgery. I model it on the schedule I gave her for the plane, with no more than an hour of sitting at my bedside before she takes a break to stretch or eat or exercise. She insists on both Maude and Niall sitting with me when she goes for the first of the fifteen-minute walks on my schedule but looks so much more relaxed when she returns that Maude immediately ordains several more walks every day. Since Emily knows I have her taking walks every two hours, she simply smiles and says, βYes, maβam.β
My good girl.
The only order Emily wonβt obey is getting back in bed with me. Evidently Benjie reprimanded her when she did it right after my surgery. Although I tell her she answers only to me, she refuses to go against anything he, or Dr. Lacey, tells her might hamper my recovery. Instead, she sleeps on a little cot Benjie brings for her each night, a clandestine arrangement since visiting hours end at twenty thirty. I sleep restlessly, not because of the pain, but because my arms are empty.
Finally, on the fourth day after my surgery, Benjie takes out all of the tubes stuck in me, including the motherfucking catheter, which is the thing thatβs bothered me the most. Much more than the five-inch incision in my head or the titanium mesh holding together the broken bone beneath. Emily watches the removal of the last tube with gleaming eyes. As soon as Benjie moves away with his cart of tubes and bags, Emily climbs onto the foot of the bed. She worms herself up against my side, settles her head on my shoulder, and closes her eyes with a big sigh.
Benjie clears his throat.
Emily cracks open an eye to look at him before she gives him a beatific smile and snuggles back into me. βYou said I couldnβt be in bed with him as long as he had those tubes in. Now theyβre out.β
βYou still shouldnβt be in a hospital bed with him. Health and safety,β Benjie grumps.
βIβll risk it,β I tell him, happier to have my little girl back in my arms than anything since seeing her walk into the ICU.
βDr. Laceyβll be in to check you before she signs your discharge.β He points a thick finger at us. βDo not let her find you in that bed together.β
βNo, Benjie, sir,β Emily says, with her eyes still closed, smiling against my shoulder.
After he leaves, she whispers to me, βVashi and I are going to find him a nice subbie. He needs someone to call him sir and give him welcome-home blow jobs every night.β
That makes me chuckle, even though Iβve felt a few pinches of jealousy watching Emily respond to Benjieβs apparently subconscious dominance. βHe does, does he?β
βUh-huh. Heβs such a Dom. He just doesnβt know it yet.β
βWhat about Daddy? Do I get welcome-home blow jobs every night?β
βYes, Daddy, and good morning ones, too. Lots and lots of blow jobs as soon as Hendry clears you for sex.β
Hendry?
βWhoβs Hendry, baby?β
βThe physical therapist Mistress Maude recommended. Sheβs in the East Village, so we can walk to her office once youβre walking again. In the meanwhile, sheβll come to your house. Youβve got your first appointment with her the day after we get back to New York.β
βThatβs quick work, little girl.β
βI have to get you better.β She lifts up onto her elbow and looks at me very seriously. βIβm still on orgasm restriction until you give me an hour of edging. I need you better fast, Daddy.β
I chuck her under the chin with my free hand. βI would never keep you on orgasm restriction until Iβm better. Iβll give you an orgasm now if you take off those cute shorts.β
My fingers will work fine for that task, and Iβm sure I can do it without raising the intercranial pressure that everyoneβs so worried about.
She shakes her head. βI donβt want orgasms while you canβt have them.β
I tuck her back against my side, her face in my neck. βEmmy, you are such a wonder.β I stroke her hair. We havenβt said the magic words since the ICU. βI love you, little girl.β
She gives a happy sigh, her breath warm across my collar. βI love you, too, Daddy. So, so much.β
Thatβs how Dr. Lacey finds us. Snuggled together in my hospital bed. Saying words itβs too early to say, but both of us feel.
Dr. Lacey blows a gasket, in a cheerful, purple scrubs way, but sheβs as annoyed as Iβve seen her in the four days sheβs been treating me. Including when I tried to get out of bed on my own, and we discovered that my left leg wouldnβt hold me up.
Emily, ever sensitive to criticism, crawls out of the bed and stands to the side, head down, hands twisting the hem of her pink sweatshirt.
βEmily,β I
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