Heal Me, Daddy
Laylah Roberts
Laylah Roberts
Heal Me, Daddy
© 2020, Laylah Roberts
Laylah.roberts@gmail.com
laylahroberts.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Cover Design by: Allycat’s Creations
Editing: Celeste Jones
Created with Vellum
Contents
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Books by Laylah Roberts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
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Books by Laylah Roberts
Doms of Decadence
Just for You, Sir
Forever Yours, Sir
For the Love of Sir
Sinfully Yours, Sir
Make me, Sir
A Taste of Sir
To Save Sir
Sir’s Redemption
Reveal Me, Sir
Montana Daddies
Daddy Bear
Daddy’s Little Darling
Daddy’s Naughty Darling Novella
Daddy’s Sweet Girl
Daddy’s Lost Love
A Montana Daddies Christmas
Daring Daddy
Warrior Daddy
Daddy’s Angel
Heal Me, Daddy
MC Daddy
Motorcycle Daddy
Hero Daddy (coming August 2020)
Haven, Texas Series
Lila’s Loves
Laken’s Surrender
Saving Savannah
Molly’s Man
Saxon’s Soul
Mastered by Malone
How West was Won
Cole’s Mistake
Men of Orion
Worlds Apart
Cavan Gang
Rectify
Redemption
Redemption Valley
Audra’s Awakening
Old-Fashioned Series
An Old-Fashioned Man
Two Old-Fashioned Men
Her Old-Fashioned Husband
Her Old-Fashioned Boss
His Old-Fashioned Love
An Old-Fashioned Christmas
Bad Boys of Wildeside
Wilde
Sinclair
Luke
1
“You’ve gone the wrong damn way.”
Archer Miller tightened his hands around the steering wheel of his BMW.
Deep breath. Calm. You cannot kill him. One day you might need him. For a kidney. Or bone marrow. Or …
Okay, he was out of reasons for why he shouldn’t murder his asshole younger brother.
“Isaac—”
“Don’t call me that,” Isaac muttered back, glaring out the window, his arms crossed over his chest, looking much like he had as a petulant teenager. Except he was now closing in on forty, had bulked up and there were a few grays peeking through his dark-blond hair.
Archer didn’t like to think too closely about what had given his brother those gray hairs. Isaac’s time spent in the Navy had only hardened his already rough edges, until it was extremely rare to see him smile.
And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his brother laugh.
“I’m not calling you Doc,” he said with exasperation. It was what everyone on Sanctuary Ranch called him. Living there suited him. A quiet ranch nestled into the Montana landscape. A place where people who enjoyed relationships out of the norm were accepted and embraced.
Sanctuary wasn’t the sort of place Archer could live. While he was a Dom, he didn’t want a relationship where he was always in charge. Unlike Isaac. He wanted a Little. He liked to always be in control. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had a Little in a long time.
Archer worried he’d never take another one.
Living on a ranch in the middle of nowhere wasn’t for him. He liked civilization, thank you very much.
Which is why you’re driving along a dirt road to spend a long weekend in an isolated cabin? He sighed. The things he did in an attempt to heal the relationship with his brother.
“Why not?”
“Let’s see. Because I’m a doctor as well? Because I’m your brother and you have a perfectly good name?”
Isaac grumbled something under his breath. He hated his name, since it was one he shared with his father. To say they weren’t on good terms was putting it mildly.
“Would you rather I call you Issy?” he asked, using his childhood nickname.
“No,” Isaac bit back sharply. “Where the fuck are we even headed? Do you know where this place is? Are you sure you can drive in these conditions? No fancy streets down this part of the country.”
“Fancy streets? What constitutes fancy? Lights? Pavement? Signs?” Archer asked. It was getting increasingly hard to see. Dusk had hit and it wouldn’t be long until it was fully dark. He would rather have been at the cabin by now, but Isaac had insisted they couldn’t leave until after lunch. He had a thing about eating out. As in he refused to do it.
Archer had been a psychiatrist for over fifteen years and he’d never come across someone as difficult as Isaac.
Then after his brother had lunch, he’d gotten called away and Archer had ended up visiting with Ari, so they hadn’t left Sanctuary until late afternoon.
His brother just grunted. Archer ignored him, concentrating on his driving. “And I’m headed in the direction the GPS told me to take.”
“Fancy fucking machines can’t replace an actual map.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Isaac,” he muttered. His brother could make him lose his patience quicker than anyone else. “You’re thirty-nine not ninety-eight. GPS has been around for freaking years. Would it hurt you to at least pretend like you want to be here?”
“Might,” Isaac grunted back.
“You’re an asshole. This weekend is supposed to be about the two of us—holy fuck!”
He slammed on the brakes, turning the vehicle towards the right as a deer bounded out across the road in front of them. He hadn’t been going that fast, but the downpour of rain had turned the dirt road to mud and his tires slid across the surface. Fuck! The vehicle slammed into a tree, mak
ing him jolt against the seatbelt.
His breath came in fast pants, adrenaline racing through him. Shit. Shit.
Why hadn’t the airbags detonated? This was a rental vehicle, but they should still work. Maybe they’d been going too slow to set them off.
Fuck, Isaac!
He turned to check on his brother. “Isaac, you okay? Isaac?” He undid his seatbelt as his brother let out a low groan. “Isaac!”
His brother shifted around to face him. Archer turned on the overhead light.
“Fuck!” Archer swore. “Your head!”
There was a gash on the right side of the other man’s temple. Blood was dripping down his face. “I’ll get your bag out of the back.”
“It’s fine. Just a bit of a scratch.”
Bit of a scratch. Right. Archer shook his head as he reached into the back for his jacket, pulling it on then jumping out of the truck. His boots squelched in the mud.
And this is why he stuck to paved roads. Fancy, his ass.
He moved to the back, opening it up and grabbing Isaac’s medical bag. He never went anywhere without it. There was probably a first aid kit, but he knew his brother’s bag was better stocked. Rain pelted down. Icy cold. He grimaced as he saw the damage to the rental. Fuck. He wondered if roadside assistance would make it out this far. And in this weather. In the growing dark.
Shit. Fuck.
With a sigh, he stomped his way back around to the driver’s side door, climbing in. Isaac had his belt off and was pressing the sleeve of his sweater to his head.
“How bad’s the damage?” he rumbled, taking a bandage from Archer and pressing it against the wound.
“Don’t think we’re gonna make it to the cabin tonight. I’ll call Murray, see if he knows someone local who can come get us. Might need to leave the rental here overnight until it can get towed.” He looked at his brother guiltily. “I’m really sorry. I thought I was going slow enough. I didn’t see that deer.”
Perhaps he should have let Isaac drive instead of being so damned sure he could handle these conditions.
“Not your fault. Deer came out of nowhere,” Isaac muttered, surprising him. He’d thought he would take this opportunity to snipe at him.
Well. All right then.
* * *
Fuck.
Doc’s head was throbbing. He was trying not to let the pain show but he’d kill for some Tylenol right now. He grabbed his medical bag from Archer as his brother spoke on the phone to his friend, Murray, the guy whose holiday cabin they were meant to be staying at for the weekend.
He tuned out Archer’s voice as he grabbed some painkillers and swallowed them dry.
This was probably karma for being such a grumpy asshole. He knew Archer was trying. But he was trying too hard. It just made it more difficult for him to relax. He was here, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that enough for big bro? Oh no, he had to keep pushing.
Archer didn’t get that all he wanted was to be alone. This was the best out of life he could expect. He hardly ever had to leave Sanctuary. Everyone there accepted him as he was.
They didn’t try to change him. They definitely didn’t try to psychoanalyze him.
He didn’t get why Archer couldn’t leave well enough alone. Not all brothers had to be super close. They were just different.
Archer liked living in the city. He enjoyed eating at restaurants, going to concerts, dating women with as much personality as a wet rag.
While he…just wanted to be left alone.
He closed his eyes tiredly.
“Hey, don’t close your eyes. You can’t go to sleep on me,” Archer demanded, shaking him lightly. Shit. He must have ended his call.
“Jesus, I’m not falling asleep,” he snapped back. “Don’t shake me. My head is already fucking throbbing from having my brains knocked around.”
“What brains?” Archer joked.
He opened one eye and glared at his brother. “Har-har.”
“Sorry,” Archer said again. “Just don’t want you going unconscious on me.”
“Worried I’ll die, and you’ll have to deal with mom and dad on your own in their old age?”
Archer sighed. “We both know I’ll have to deal with them whether you’re alive or not.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I’m willing to go halves in paying for their retirement home. But I ain’t willing to pay off all the nurses the old man tries to feel up.”
Archer grimaced. “Christ. Fuck. You think he’ll do that?”
“No reason his personality would get better with age.”
They both fell silent thinking about their cheating asshole of a father.
“Remember that secretary he used to have?” Archer asked.
“Which one?” he asked dryly.
“The one who would always hug you and press your face right into her big boobs.”
“Oh yeah. She was my favorite.”
Archer shook his head. “I once walked in on him banging her over his desk. I was nine. Their marriage is so messed up.”
“What? The fact the old man tries to bang anyone that moves? Or that mother knows and pays them off, so they don’t go to the press?”
“All of it.” Archer sighed. “Murray’s sending one of his neighbors to get us. He said it’s unlikely the guy that runs the garage will come up here tonight. I got an earful about how we should have left earlier.”
“Great. Wonder how long we’ll have to wait.”
“We could always have a talk about why we’re here.”
“Fun. Talking. My favorite thing.”
“Isaac.”
“Archer,” he repeated. He hated his fucking name. All he could hear was his mother saying it in that disappointed drawl of hers. Nothing he’d ever done had been right. Not like her golden child.
Enough. You have to get past this.
He thought he had. But that was before Evelyn messed him up all over again.
“I want us to have a relationship again. I know you don’t believe that I had nothing to do with Evelyn—”
“How about we agree never to talk about her? That would be a good start to mending this shit between us. Also, how about we don’t talk at all. About any of it. Just agree to move on. See? We didn’t need to come to some cabin in the middle of the woods to chat. I’ve solved it all. We could have stayed at the ranch.”
“You never leave the ranch. And we’ve solved nothing. You can’t just agree to get over everything.”
“Why not?” he snapped. “Why can’t we do that?”
“Because you still fucking hate me,” Archer replied. “And you always will unless you let me explain.”
“Maybe I don’t want your explanation. Maybe I like things the way they are. Perhaps we’re not supposed to be close. We should just agree to send each other fucking Christmas cards and call on our birthdays and leave it at that.”
“When’s the last time you sent a damn Christmas card?” Archer snarled. “And do you even know when my birthday is?”
Isaac shrugged. “There’s no need for any heart to hearts or lies about forgiveness and becoming best bros. Let’s just keep the truth between us. We’re both completely different and we’re never gonna be close and leave it at that.”
Archer threw up his hands. “Fine. If that’s what you really want. We can go back to being near-strangers.”
That should make him happy. But very little made him happy anymore.
He opened his mouth to say something. What, he had no idea. An apology? To tell his brother he didn’t mean it? But then lights shone into the truck and Archer was climbing out.
The moment was gone.
2
Murray owed her big-time.
If he wasn’t such a good neighbor, who had helped her out more than once, she wouldn’t be here.
Caley knew she shouldn’t have answered her phone. Most of the time, she didn’t even have it charged. But just her luck, she’d charged it up last night. And so here she was. Rescuing some friends of
Murray who’d had a car accident.
Probably a pair of city dwellers, looking for a weekend in the country and unused to driving on these sorts of road.
Her old truck bounced over the ruts. The suspension was shot. She just hoped she had plenty of gas. When was the last time she’d put any in? She should have brought a fuel can with her. Her gas gauge had stopped working at some stage and she’d never gotten it fixed. Come to think of it, when was the last time she’d had it serviced?
Oh well. It still went. That was what counted, right?
She spotted the large vehicle on the side of the road. Looked almost brand new. It seemed they’d skidded off the road and smashed the right side of the vehicle into a large tree. Well, the truck wasn’t going anywhere until Mal could get out here and tow it. At least no one was likely to be driving past, and it was pretty much off the road. Beyond this point, there were only holiday homes. Except for Murray’s, most of them were empty during the colder months. Murray came out more regularly since he didn’t live far away.
She opened her door, wishing she’d remembered to bring her jacket with her. She’d been in such a state over having to leave her house to deal with strangers that she’d completely forgotten it. At least she had rainboots on.
She jumped down, grabbing onto the door as her worn boots slid in the mud. Drat. Be careful where you walk, Caley.
Last thing she needed was to land on her ass in the mud.
That would just be the cherry on top of this shitter of a day. Cold wind whipped through her. The rain was still pelting down as she sludged her way towards the truck. The front driver’s door opened, and a tall, large figure stepped out. She came to a stop.