Page 10 of Finding Little Fiera

She wanted this. All of it. She wanted someone who cared enough to watch over her so she didn’t have to. Someone steady enough to notice when the light grew too bright. Or when the noise began to stack instead of fade. Or when her body went still in that particular way that meant she was overwhelmed.

She’d lived too long as the one who compensated. The one who always compromised her needs for the wants of another. Her eyes traced the courtyard again, lingering on a Daddy whose hand rested lightly at the small of his Little’s back. Not gripping… just there as a reminder. A promise.

She wanted promises like that, strong and kind, from someone who would always follow through. The thought tightened her throat. Damn it. It had been nine months. Her body should have gotten with the program by now. It wasn’t like she thought all people were angels in disguise. But the one she’d been with turned out to be the exact opposite. Just the thought of him and her body triggered.

She leaned more of her weight into the railing, the iron pressing reassuringly into her palms. The breeze tickled her bare legs as it brushed against her thighs. She breathed it in slowly, the way she taught her kindergarteners back home to do when they felt overwhelmed.

She knew the drill. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. Focusing on the physical, she named five things she could see.

Water sparkled and flashed blue in the pool. White patches of sunlight danced across the grass. A staff member knelt at a Little’s eye level to tie her shoe. A Daddy laughed, unguarded, as his Little splashed him with water. The dark outline of the mountains stood solid beyond the resort’s boundaries.

But her heart was still beating too fast.

This was something she hadn’t planned for. The longing for what all the other Littles here had. Or the way seeing it all up close made that longing louder instead of quieter.

She’d told herself she was here to rest, to observe, to take everything in, slow and careful, like a scientist. She’d lied.

She stood there, watching Littles handled with care and kindness… and attention. Actually being cared for rather than merely promised and forgotten? That stirred a dangerous feeling inside her that she couldn’t squash.

Hope.

Yeah, been there, done that. Hope was for other people. She wasn’t that brave. What if she hoped for a Daddy, and everythingwent wrong? What if she found out she really was too much as her last Daddy had said?

To him, she was always too… something. Too sensitive or too insensitive. Too loud or too quiet. Too laid-back or too intense. Oh, and too needy, that was a big one. No question she was too needy, and in ways she couldn’t easily explain to others. Having Waardenburg Syndrome meant the world sometimes came at her sideways, in unpredictable, confusing ways. Sometimes the light shone sharper, the sounds hit harder, and her attention was harder to control.

Oh, she managed it well. She had to. But that didn’t mean other people could deal with it. And managing wasn’t the same as being normal, whateverthatwas.

Her former Daddy’s voice surfaced uninvited, cool and distant. “You’re asking for too much. I need peace. You’re too intense.”

Her fingers curled tighter around the railing.

What if that happened again here? What if she gathered the courage to be seen and discovered that even in a place built for Littles like her, she was inconvenient? Or worse, stared at and then politely ignored? The humiliation of trying to fit in and being rejected scared her to death. That was why she tended to go overboard. If she did something wild, there was always an excuse for people not to like her. At least then it was her choice.

She was always the one left to manage herself while everyone else had fun together. The thought left her chest hollow.

Still, she couldn’t make herself look away. Below her, a Little hesitated at the edge of the pool, uncertainty etched into every line of her body. She could almost feel the girl’s longing and fear.

The girl’s Daddy noticed right away. He didn’t rush over to her or hover nearby. He smiled, held out his hand, and waited. After a beat, she took it.

For some reason, a picture of the cowboy she’d seen earlier flashed through Fiera’s mind. Was he a Daddy? So far, all the Littles she saw had someone with them. More than likely, he already had a Little of his own.

He was probably like the Daddy in the pool below. He was probably the perfect Daddy for some lucky Little who was never too much or not enough. Fiera’s breath caught as everything she longed for was captured in one patient moment.

She wanted that kind of Daddy. She wanted it so badly it scared her. Not to be pulled or pushed, but to be worth waiting for. Then she remembered that look they’d shared. It was probably just a coincidence. Her Little was reading too much into it.

She stayed on the balcony longer than she’d meant to, letting the scene fill her heart, letting the idea of emotional safety as something that could be real settle deep into her bones. Eventually, she nudged her sunglasses back onto her head and stepped back from the railing.

Her heart still raced. Her hands were still unsteady. But beneath the fear, beneath the old warnings and learned restraint, something else had sprouted. Now, a quiet, stubborn peace was taking root. She could do this.

She decided to go for a walk around the Ranch grounds before dinner. She liked the idea of getting the lay of the land before camp started the next day. Snatching up her sweater in case it got chilly, she grabbed the map of the grounds and headed out.

Fiera wandered the Ranch with no particular destination in mind, boots crunching softly over packed dirt as the late-afternoon sun stretched toward the mountains. The place hummed with activity. Voices drifted on the breeze, laughter bubbled up and faded. Someone was having fun, and no one liked fun more than she did.

She was debating whether following the delicious scent of something grilling counted as stalking when she heard it. The high-pitched, excited chatter of other Littles, layered with sounds of frustration. She smiled, veering toward the sounds of canvas snapping and poles clattering. Then someone let out the most dramatic groan she’d ever heard.

The summer camp area spread out before her, a wide grassy clearing marked with neat flags and half-finished order. And right in the middle of it were three young women, who were obviously Littles, wrestling with a tent clearly designed by someone who hated joy. One corner stood proud and upright. Another sagged as if it had given up on life. The remaining two appeared to be actively fighting back.

The girls all spotted her at the same time. All three froze. Then, as if someone had yelledgo, they all ran toward her.