Ducky and Daddy - Snippets

Too fast

Bear stirred the sauce on the stove, one hand absently scrolling through his phone for a new recipe idea. Dinner was coming together. Ducky had just texted:

Leaving work now! <3

He glanced at the time. 5:12 p.m. If traffic was light, she'd be home by 5:45—maybe a little sooner. He liked having dinner ready when she walked in. It made her feel cared for. Precious. Safe.
He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and set it beside the cutting board.

Twenty-five minutes. That was how long he had to finish the pasta and set the table. Plenty of time.

But then—

A burst of music pierced the quiet through the open kitchen window.

Tires on gravel. A too-swift turn into the driveway.

Bear's eyes snapped to the clock. 5:32.

No.

He moved to the front window and watched her shut off the car. Windblown hair, sunglasses still on.

She came through the door humming—his sweet girl, already trying to look innocent. He didn't speak, not yet. Just watched her drop her bag, kick off her shoes, and try to slide past the kitchen like she hadn't just knocked five years off his life.

"Ducky."

She froze mid-step. "Hi, Daddy," she said, voice too light.

He turned the heat down and stirred the sauce again. Deliberate. Calm. Steady, for her.

"You got home fast today."

She shifted. "Traffic was really light."

He looked at her. Just looked.

She bit her lip. "Like... unusually light."

"Did you speed home today, Ducky?"

Her face flushed instantly. She squirmed. "I didn't mean to. It was just—such a nice day. I had the windows down, the radio was playing some good songs, and... traffic really was light! I guess I didn't realize how fast I was going."

"Okay," he said simply.

She blinked, confused by the lack of reaction. But he was already pulling a chair away from the table, placing it in the corner of the kitchen.

"Sit. No phone, no music. You stay there until I finish dinner. We'll talk after I get some food in you."

Her mouth opened like she might protest—but she knew better. She shuffled over and sat down without another word, hands folded in her lap.

Dinner finished just as the timer went off on the oven. He plated the pasta with care, poured her a glass of water, and set it all on the table.
"Come eat."

She padded over quietly and sat, eyes flicking up at him, then away. She picked at her food, barely touching it.

"Ducky."

She startled slightly.

"If you don't eat, I'll feed you myself. You want that?"

She flushed and squirmed in her seat. Her fork moved faster after that.

They ate mostly in silence. He didn't push her to speak. He wanted her to sit in the unease a little.

After the dishes were cleared, he set them in the sink and returned to the table. Ducky was still sitting there, waiting like she knew he wasn't finished.

He sat down across from her and unlocked his phone. A few taps. A small pause. Then he turned the screen to her.

He set his phone on the table between them. The screen glowed with a chart—percentages and headlines about distracted driving fatalities.

"I want you to look at this," he said, voice low and even.

She shifted in her chair, eyes darting away.

"Ducky," he prompted gently. "Eyes on me."

She met his gaze, already blinking fast.

"This isn't about scolding you," he said. "This is about understanding exactly how much you matter to me—and how fast something could take you away."

Her lip trembled.

"I won't lose you over a song on the radio," he continued. "I won't. So here's what's going to happen..."

He paused, folding his hands on the table, looking Ducky in the eyes. "No music in the car. Not for the next seven days. No radio, no playlists, nothing. Windows stay up. Until I trust your awareness is where it needs to be."

She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped. Thought better of it.

"You're lucky I trust you to follow through without me there," he said. "Don't make me regret that."

"I won't," she whispered. "I promise."

He reached forward, cupping her face gently in his hand, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him.

"You are everything to me," he said. "And I'm not willing to lose you. If I need to tighten your leash to keep you safe, I will."

Tears welled in her eyes again.

Then he kissed her—soft, slow, full of all the fierce love he didn't have the words to say.

When he pulled back, she was quiet. Still.

"Now go wash your hands and get ready for a show," he said softly. "And you'll sit close to me tonight. I want you where I can see you."

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered.