Page 33 of Master Daddy

My thumbs move across the keyboard before I can talk myself out of it…

Mason: Hey little one. Woke up with a cold coming on. Head’s pounding. Probably best we skip training this morning so I don’t get you sick. Catch you soon.

I hit send, then immediately power the phone off completely.

No notifications. No temptation to check if he replies. Just silence.

I lie back down and stare at the ceiling again, one arm thrown over my eyes. The quiet of the cabin presses in on me. For the first time since I met him, I wonder if getting involved with Luke was a mistake.

The boy is young. Twenty-six. Full of life, sass, dreams. He’s got his friends, his Little side, his whole world here in Hardrock Park.

And me? I’m forty-three, married to a job that takes me away for months at a time. What the hell am I offering him? Stolen weeks? A few intense training sessions and nights where I fuck him senseless and then disappear again?

The brilliant young man deserves stability. Someone who can be there every day. Someone who doesn’t turn into a jealous asshole the second his toxic ex texts him.

I roll onto my side, punching the pillow again.

The thought of Luke meeting Patrick tomorrow—or whenever—twists something ugly in my chest. Not because I don’t trust the boy. I do. But because I know how these things go. One conversation can reopen old wounds. Old feelings can come back to life. And I’ll be stuck out on a rig in the middle of nowhere, unable to do a damn thing about it.

Maybe it would be better if I pulled back now. Before either of us gets in too deep. Before I fall any harder and end up hurting Luke when I inevitably have to leave again.

The idea sits like lead in my stomach. I picture his face when I told the boy I’d spot him, the way he called me Daddy in the stockroom, the way he looked riding my face in front of the fire. The trust in his eyes. The way he melts for me.

“Fuck,” I mutter into the darkness.

I want him.

Badly.

I want the boy more than I’ve wanted anything in years. But wanting Luke and being good for him are two different things. And right now, with this jealousy still burning under my skin and four months on the rig looming, I’m not sure I’m the man he needs.

I close my eyes and try to force sleep, but it doesn’t come. The ceiling stares back at me, blank and unforgiving, while my mind keeps replaying every moment with Luke on a loop.

By the time the sky outside starts to lighten toward dawn, I still haven’t slept. And I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

* * *

The morning light feels too bright as I push through the door of the diner. My head is pounding from lack of sleep, and the scent of coffee and bacon does little to improve my mood. I spot Kaleb and Connor already in our usual booth near the window. They’re laughing about something until they see me. Their expressions shift almost instantly.

“Jesus, man,” Kaleb says as I slide in across from them. “You look like you got hit by a logging truck. Rough night?”

I grunt, grabbing the menu even though I always order the same thing.

Rosie appears with a mug and pours me coffee without asking. Black, strong, no bullshit. Exactly what I need.

“Something like that,” I mutter, staring into the dark liquid.

Connor leans forward, elbows on the table. “This about Luke? You two seemed solid last night when we saw you at the Lantern.”

I take a long sip of coffee, scalding my tongue on purpose. The burn feels grounding. “Yeah. It’s about him.” I set the mug down harder than necessary. “Luke got a text from his ex Patrick. The asshole from the city. He wants to ‘make amends.’ Take my boy for coffee. Closure or some shit.”

Both of them go quiet for a beat.

Kaleb lets out a low whistle. “And how did that land with you?”

“Like a fucking grenade.” I rub a hand over my face, the stubble rough under my palm. “I shut down on him. Got all stiff and moody. Walked the damn boy home in silence, barely kissed him goodnight. Felt like a jealous prick the whole time and hated myself for it.”

Connor nods slowly, sympathy in his eyes.