Milk For His Little (The Lactin Brotherhood #12)

11. Kasper

Chapter 11

Kasper

Something was wrong with Daddy, and I wasn’t sure what it was. I came bounding in, ready for my chicken nuggies and for a nice, relaxing night with him. Instead, I found myself worried. Worried about him. Worried I was doing something wrong. Worried about everything.

Something was off with him, and I wasn’t sure what it was. I didn’t think it was me, but also, what else could it be?

I ended up not being Little. The mood wasn’t there, so why force it. Instead, we watched a superhero movie snuggled on the couch. It was fine. It wasn’t like a bad day or anything, but it was just... I didn’t even know… not quite right.

When I went home that night, I knew I had to do something, because seeing him like that? I didn’t like it. It had me feeling less-than, and so I did what I always did when I feared I let someone down—I overcompensated like a boss.

I was barely through my door when I pulled out every craft supply I could find. I was going to make Daddy a card. What kind of card? A big, happy, sparkly card full of color and happiness and everything I could ever think of. Yep, I was going to do exactly that. It would make everything better, or at least make me feel like I tried.

First I drew a picture of Daddy’s house with Daddy sitting in the backyard. Then, I decided I hated it, so I ripped it up. I ended up doing that same process six or seven times with different scenes, not liking any of what I made.

It needed to be special, something that would mean a lot to Daddy. If he had a dog, it would be easy. Everyone loves their fur babies. But he didn’t, and it took me forever for inspiration to hit, but when it did, I knew exactly what to do. I recreated the Little room at the club using different kinds of paper. It was where he first saw me and where I first saw him. It was perfect.

I tore pieces of tissue paper and construction paper and magazines, making nice piles of the scraps. When I was happy with what I had, I arranged them on a piece of cardstock, moving them until they were in the right places. When I was satisfied, I glued them down. I’d always loved doing collage work, and it had been years since I’d done it last. Thankfully, I still remembered how, and it was already looking like I wanted it to and there were still a few more steps.

Using watercolors, markers, and lots and lots of glitter, I did my best to make it come alive. To someone who saw it and had never been to the room, they’d probably think it was a classroom or something like that. But he would know. Daddy would see my work and recognize it for what it was. I just knew it.

It was three in the morning when I finally felt like the piece was done. It didn’t even end up being a card, just a picture, and that was okay. No, it was perfect, and Daddy was going to love it. There was one last step I’d complete in the morning when it was fully dry. I’d write on the back a short letter telling him what a good Daddy he was or something. It would come to me. But I was dead on my feet, and it was time to go to bed. We’d figure everything out tomorrow when he came over.

When I woke up in the morning, there was a text from him telling me he missed me and to have a good day. It was sweet and not the first time he’d left a message like that, but it felt forced. Or that was me imagining everything, because apparently, I was really good at that.

I told him I was looking forward to our date and that I had a surprise for him. He sent me back a heart, and I slipped it into my pocket, the one in my shirt front, wanting it close to me.

After breakfast, I went to work just like normal, and the day went by remarkably quickly. I was cheating for dinner and ordered a pre-made meal from one of the local restaurants. It was baked chicken with some potatoes and veggies. Nothing I couldn’t have done on my own, but having it all ready for me meant we wouldn’t have to eat too late at night. And it wasn’t junk food, it was food-food, which I thought Daddy would appreciate.

I put it in the oven on warm and got ready, wearing my jeans and a shirt—nothing Little. We needed to talk, and that wasn’t going to happen if I was busy thinking about toys and things like that. That was if I could even get into Little space. I’d managed to get myself in quite the spiral.

Daddy texted me that he was going to be late. So, I did what any boy would do. I dug in the cupboard, found a box of cake mix, and using a recipe I found online, I managed to turn it into cookies—or a facsimile thereof. They looked wonderful. The taste was debatable. They were fine, just not “cookie” cookies. But the house smelled delightful and the effort was there.

When Daddy finally came in, I pulled him into my arms and hugged him. “I missed you.” I rubbed my cheek against his collarbone.

“I missed you a lot too, sweet boy,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

“I have a prezzie for you.” So much for staying big.

Now that it was time to give him the collage, I was nervous. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was silly?

“You do?” His smile was genuine, and I wondered if I’d been imagining everything from the day before.

I ran and got the picture I made him.

“When did you have time to do this, sweet boy?” He looked at it intently. “This is where I first saw you.”

He recognized it!

“Last night, when I got home. I wanted to do something nice for you.” I tapped the paper. “Turn it over.”

He read the letter out loud. It was short and sweet, but said exactly what I wanted it to. “Thank you for being my best Daddy ever.”

“That’s so sweet...” His voice cracked. He put it down and pulled me onto his lap. But I wasn’t there for more than a few seconds when the timer went off for the last batch of cookies.

“Gotta get the cookies out or they’ll burn.” I hated having to get up, but I’d have hated needing my fire extinguisher more. “We’re having a special dinner.”

“A special dinner? And a present? What is the celebration?”

“Not a celebration. It’s just that I know that you like me to eat healthy, and I was coming home kind of late from work—I got us baked chicken with roasted potatoes and vegetables.”

“And where do the cookies I smell fit in with the healthy balance?” He had a point.

“Balance, Daddy... balance!”