You Feel Like Home [h.s.]

Preview

Here's a preview of "You Feel Like Home." Part one will be posted on Friday, October 30th. Feel free to save to your library to see updates!

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Tripping over one of Luna's cat toys holding a box filled with assorted kitchenware outside of the front door of her new flat was not how Ryan imagined move-in day to transpire. But alas, she's ended up arse over tit on the horrendously carpeted flooring, scraping her knee along the way.

The pots rattle together in an obnoxious sound, bringing unwanted attention to the dark-haired woman currently observing her knee with a deep frown settled on her face. It's definitely rug burn, and it definitely stings in the worst sort of way.

Before Ryan can utter a string of expletives under her breath, she hears the distinct sound of shoes scuffling against the carpet. Just as her dark eyes were about to fall on the person heading her way, two tiny hands settle into her opened palms.

"Daddy always holds my hand when I gets a boo boo. Says it helps to make it all better." It's a tiny voice, suitable enough to match the tiny hands, and Ryan's eyes widen when she sees two smaller green ones looking up at hers under a forehead of unruly chocolate curls. Ryan is sniffling because holy shit, did that fall fucking hurt, but she immediately tries to keep the tears at bay, trying her hardest not to cry in front of a toddler.

The small boy reorganizes his fingers so that he's clutching Ryan's thumb and forefinger, squeezing both with all of the strength he can muster, closing his eyes as if he was trying to will all the pain away.

Ryan smiles, finding this little human to be unbearably adorable.

"Is it better yet?" He asks impatiently, looking at the cut on her knee with the utmost care, as if he could cause the bleeding to stop just by staring at the wound.

She chuckles, still sitting on the floor. "Yeah, I reckon you fixed me all up, champ. Cheers. What's your name?"

His small hands finally leave hers. "Jackson. What's yours?" he asks, one coiled curl falling over his forehead and in his line of vision when he places his hands back to his side. Ryan thinks he's due for a trim.

"I'm Ryan."

"Ryan? But that's a boy name," Jackson says, confusion written all over his tiny scrunched up face. Ryan just shrugs.

"I didn't pick it, mate." Before the little boy can say anything else, Ryan hears the door a few feet to her left open, a frantic voice calling out, the sound echoing throughout the quiet hallway.

"Jackson!? Jack! How many times have I—"

At the same time as Jackson, Ryan's head snaps up in the direction of a tall man with flushed cheeks heading their way. He's tall, wearing comfortable clothes and a light jacket appropriate for the spring weather outside. His hair is amok, messy waves piled together in a plastic claw clip atop his head, a blue medical mask hanging around his wrist. His eyes dart from the small child to Ryan's, a matching look of puzzlement etched onto his face.

Ryan thinks he's probably Jackson's older brother, with the way his facial features add a youthful flair to his disheveled demeanor. His hair is wild, he probably hasn't shaved in a few weeks (not that Ryan finds it unattractive), and his eyes are wide and worrisome.

"Sorry daddy, the lady fell. I was holding her hand to make her boo boo all better," Jackson replies, looking completely calm under this man's gaze.

This man. This attractive man. This man who is now standing directly in front of them, hands resting against his hips, head cocked to the side in an authoritative manner. This man, with matching features, who was just referred to as "daddy."

Ryan gulps harshly, wishing the floor would swallow her whole.