23. Markus

CHAPTER 23

Markus

Nicky showed up at my door looking like a man about to jump out of his own skin. His jacket was only half-zipped, his hair mussed like he’d run a hand through it a dozen times on the way here. I stepped aside to let him in, scanning his face. His usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found. In its place, something unsettled. Restless energy poured off him.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Take your jacket off.”

Nicky blinked, his hands hesitating on the zipper before tugging it down.

“Here,” I said softly, holding out my hand. “I’ll hang it up for you.”

He shrugged out of the jacket and handed it over. It was cold and damp from the winter air as I carried it to the rack near the door.

“Sit,” I added, gesturing to the armchair as I turned back.

Nicky nodded, his movement sharp, almost defensive, before he perched on the edge of the chair like it might bite him. His arms crossed briefly, then unfolded, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. I watched him for a moment before heading to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water.

When I handed it to him, our fingers brushed—a light touch, but enough to make him glance up at me. I didn’t look away.

“You okay?”

“I went to the hospital,” he finally said, his voice tight. “To check in on Beverly.”

I stayed silent, waiting.

“I couldn’t stay for long.” His jaw worked like he was grinding down the words. “But at least I got to see her.”

I knew how much Beverly meant to him. It must have been difficult for him to see Beverly in that condition. “She’s strong, Nicky. You know that. She’s getting the care she needs.”

“I know. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she’ll pull through.”

He sipped the water mechanically, his gaze darting around the room like he was cataloging every piece of furniture.

“I don’t know how to…” He trailed off, dragging a hand through his hair and muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like damn it.

I stayed quiet, waiting him out.

Finally, he exhaled sharply and set the glass on the coffee table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About… us. About what you want.”

My stomach did a slow flip. “Okay.”

He hesitated, his teeth catching on his lower lip. “I thought I couldn’t do it. That it wasn’t for me. That it would make me feel…” He paused, visibly searching for the right word. “Less.”

I crouched in front of him, resting my forearms on my knees. “And now?”

His eyes finally met mine, and they were wide, vulnerable. “Now, I think I might’ve been wrong.”

The room seemed to still, the air between us charged.

“Wrong how?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, even though my pulse was racing.

His throat worked as he swallowed. “I didn’t understand before. I didn’t understand you. ”

“Nicky…”

He shook his head quickly, cutting me off. “I didn’t want to feel controlled. Didn’t want to feel like someone else was running my life. But I learned it’s not…” He exhaled, like the next words were being dragged out of him. “It’s not about control. It’s about care.”

The admission hit me square in the chest.

“You make me feel safe,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. His hands twisted in his lap. “And I hate that I need that. But I do.”

I reached out, placing a hand on his knee. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to hate it,” I said gently.

He stared at my hand like it was some foreign object before his gaze flicked back to mine. “I don’t know how to do this,” he murmured. “But I want to try. With you.”

Warmth spread through me, melting something I hadn’t even realized was frozen. I gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He huffed a small laugh, though it was more nerves than humor. “Is that your Daddy promise?”

A grin tugged at my lips. “You’ll learn fast, kid. Daddy promises are unbreakable.”

That got a real laugh out of him—short and sharp, but real. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“Good thing you like me that way.”

“Debatable,” he shot back, but his lips twitched into a smile he couldn’t quite hide. Then, quieter, more hesitant: “Can I… call you Daddy?”

Hearing that word, his voice wrapping around it with just a touch of uncertainty, was like a live wire straight to my chest.

I cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing along his jaw. “Only if you want to.”

He leaned into my hand, his breath unsteady. “This is what I want. You’re what I want.”

The raw honesty in his voice unraveled me. I pressed my forehead to his, letting the silence stretch between us, thick with meaning.

“You’re mine now,” I said softly, firmly. “And I’m yours.”

His lips curved into the smallest, softest smile. Then, as if testing the waters, he whispered, “Daddy.”

It wasn’t just a word. It was a declaration. A promise.

And I’d spend the rest of my life keeping it.