Chapter Six: Drake

D etermined to give Anson the space he needs to process the discovery he’s made about himself tonight, I take my time making us two big, steaming mugs of hot cocoa, using the stove to heat the milk and melt in chocolate, rather than using cocoa powder and the microwave. By the time I’ve washed and dried the saucepan, I’m getting a bit anxious.

The Daddy in me is telling me there’s a Boy in need of comfort and support in the guest room, a few scant feet from the kitchen. But I promised him that I wouldn’t push him, and I will not make him uncomfortable.

So, I carry the mugs out into the living room and set them on the coffee table, trying to relax myself with the comforting crackle of logs on the fire. I’m starting to worry that I’ll need to reheat our cocoa in the microwave after all when Anson pads into the room, holding his phone out to me. His cheeks are pink again, and he looks down at his feet, mumbling, “Vinnie says he wants to talk to you.”

My eyebrows climb towards my hairline, but I accept the device and bring it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Vince’s low, smooth voice is familiar, but we’ve only spoken a handful of times since he and his Little joined The Grove. He’s always seemed like a nice, level-headed kind of guy, if quite protective and possessive of his Little. I guess that also extends to his best friend, though, because he follows his greeting by getting directly to the point. “I don’t know what your intentions are, Drake, but Anson’s really vulnerable right now. Everyone’s always said you’re a good guy, and I know he’s an adult who can make his own decisions. But I just…I love him like a brother, and this is kind of a huge mindfuck for him, so I—”

“It’s okay. Really. I get it.” I smile reassuringly, more than aware that even though Anson is studying the worn rug under his feet, he’s listening to my side of the conversation intently. “I appreciate that. But you don’t have anything to worry about, I promise. I’m here as a friend.” I meet Anson’s gaze as I speak. “I’m not pressuring him to do anything he’s uncomfortable with, but I am also here to support whatever he wants to explore.”

Anson smiles and looks up at me from under his lashes and my heart squeezes. I’m in a lot of trouble.

Vince’s amused chuckle brings me back to the conversation. “You’re about to learn that Anson is a ‘dive in headfirst’ kind of guy. Once he realizes that he’s into something, he goes for broke. But, as one Daddy to another, he’s more vulnerable than he seems. Shit,” Vince sighs, “I should have seen it earlier. I guess he just told me that he was exploring his options as a Daddy or whatever and I accepted it. It makes so much sense in hindsight, but it never even crossed my mind that he might be a Little.”

“Because you’re a good friend,” I reply. “If we went around telling people that we don’t agree with the way they identify, that would be pretty problematic behavior.”

I feel a stab of guilt as I say it, because I did silently and privately question Anson’s kinky proclivities. I’ve never told him that I thought he was barking up the wrong tree, but some part of me had observed him and thought ‘ Boy ’, even while he said he was drawn to being a Daddy and a Master. Sure, I’d told myself it was wishful thinking, and I always included him as one of the Daddies, but the niggling question at the back of my brain was always there.

I feel a bit shitty for not trusting that he knew himself. For thinking that I knew better.

The fact that I was ultimately right doesn’t make it any better, does it?

“I guess you’re right,” Vince says. Then, after a beat, adds, “I’m glad he’s there with you. If I can’t be there to make sure he’s okay, I’m glad it’s someone like you.”

Even as I thank him and end the call by wishing him a Merry Christmas, guilt still gnaws at me.

Anson deserves better treatment than I’ve been giving him, whether he’s aware of it or not. So, I’m going to do what I’ve just promised Vince. I’ll support Anson. I’ll help him, and I will be here for him…but I’m doing it as a friend, my crush and excitement be damned.

Romantically speaking, Anson deserves respect and honesty above all else…and I’ve already failed him on that account.