Page 98 of Daddy’s Fortitude

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she said. “My body seems to be doing strange things lately.”

“Strange things?” he asked with some alarm. What did she mean? What kinds of strange things?

“Well, the foot stomping earlier. I’ve never stomped my foot in my life, and suddenly it’s just doing crazy stuff all of its own volition. I didn’t tell it to do that.”

“I see. Yes, the foot stomping.”

“And now the clapping. Why was I clapping? Because of ice cream? That’s silly, isn’t it?”

She gave him a slightly embarrassed look. He didn’t want her to think that anything she did was silly, because she should be free to do exactly as she wanted to.

She shouldn’t care what other people thought of her. Most of this town seemed to revolve around gossip and meanness, and he didn’t like that. There was a reason that he didn’t live close to other people. Well, other than Zander and the rest of those crazies.

Because people fucking sucked.

They walked into the ice cream parlor.

She still couldn’t believe that he’d tried to say that the wet patch on his shirt was from her tears. She had no recollection of tears, only of her being the bravest girl ever.

Aimee couldn’t help but wonder why she was feeling so young and kind of free right now. She hadn’t felt this level of freedom in years. It was as though something had been lifted off her chest. Instead of being weighed down, she was floating.

Was it because of that interaction with Sally-Anne, where she’d managed to stand up for herself? If she stood up for herself with more people, would she feel even better? Would her Little side make more of an appearance? If she was a Little that was . . .

Maybe part of it was Ammo. Kirsten had thought he had “Daddy energy,” but she wasn’t entirely sure. However, the more time she spent with him, the more she was inclined to agree with Kirsten.

“What sort of ice cream do you want?” he asked.

She studied all the flavors. “I want caramel and birthday cake and cookies and cream and chocolate.”

“Really? That’s all?” he asked. “Nothing else?”

“Well, obviously I want some whipped cream and cherries on top.” She smiled up at him. “What are you going to get?”

“I don’t eat ice cream.”

She put her hand on her chest and gasped as she took a step back. “You don’t eat ice cream?”

“No.”

She took another step back.

“Why are you walking away from me? It’s not catching, you know.”

“What’s not catching?”

“Disliking ice cream. It’s not a disease. It’s not infectious.”

“Thank God for that,” she told him. “There is no way I could ever do without ice cream in my life.”

“Good to know. But you’re not having four flavors.”

“Why not? Are you saying I don’t deserve four flavors for the way I handled myself in the doctor’s office?”

He eyed her for a long moment and seemed to debate whether to say anything. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“No, they let you do four scoops, but it’s in the same cup size as if you had just one scoop, right?” She looked over at the young girl that was standing behind the counter, staring at them with wide eyes.

The girl nodded. “Right. You can have four small scoops of different flavors, or a lot of scoops of one flavor.”