Page 30 of Daddy Erik
The folder from Dr. Madsen sits open on the counter with my schedule, our timings, and the log we keep together. He’s already checked off the first hydration window.
“You were awake early,” I say.
“Did a perimeter review.” His jaw flexes once. “I pushed the listing on your old place.”
“My…” I blink. “Erik.”
He slides my shake toward me. “It needed to be handled. Fast sale. Cash offer.”
There’s a flicker of old instinct, panic, self-preservation, and the leftover voice from my ex telling me not to rely on anyone.
Erik sees it. He always does.
He steps closer, his thumb grazing the inside of my wrist. “You’ve been living here for four weeks. This is right.”
My breath wavers. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”
His eyes go dark. Serious. “Claire. Look at me.” I lift my head.
“You’re not a guest in my home,” he says. “You’re the woman I built this space around the moment I knew you needed it.”
My throat tightens. “When was that?”
“The night you volunteered to distract a security team so my brothers could get Grace out.” A slow inhale. “I fell then. Everything since has just been confirmation.”
I feel that statement is like gravity.
He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “You weren’t scared when you agreed to move in last month. You were overwhelmed. That’s different.”
I swallow. “It still feels huge.”
“It is,” he murmurs. “And you’re handling it. Every day you choose safety over fear.”
He doesn’t kiss me. He waits. Let’s the truth land until my shoulders finally loosen.
He nods toward the sofa. “Come on."
A familiar warmth pulses low in my chest. I can feel the fullness, the heaviness, and the way my body has transformed with care and consistency. It doesn’t frighten me anymore.
It feels like purpose. I settle on the couch. Erik joins me, his touch steady and grounding as he adjusts the warm compress.
His voice gentles. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Pressure,” I breathe. “Full. Heavy.”
“Good.” His hand moves to my back, providing slow reassurance. “Your body’s regulating. Everything is exactly on schedule.”
The warmth spreads through me, deeper than sensation; it’s emotional, almost spiritual. Intimate in a way that rewrites the definition of the word.
My breath stutters. “Erik…”
His answering hum is low. “Yes, little one. I know.”
A moment blooms between us, charged, quiet, and electric.
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “Let me take care of you.”
My heart stumbles. My fingers curl into his shirt.
