Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Mine are often romances, stories that seemed unattainable to me before I met Kayden, stories that seemed so far out of my grasp. It was laughable.
Dad looks at me over his chunky historical tome, a photograph of a helicopter on the front.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Why?”
He places his book in his lap, frowning. “I’ve watched you reading that same page for twenty minutes, sweetness. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk…”
It’s true that me and dad have developed a friendship as well as a father-daughter relationship. Maybe that’s because of how early Mom left us, before I could cling to a single memory of her, so Dad felt like he had to develop that side more. I don’t know the reason exactly, just that I’m grateful for the connection.
“It’s about that guy,” I say softly.
Referring to him as that guy feels so underwhelming, not coming close to how deeply I feel about him, to the connection I imagine we already share. It’s like I’m downplaying it somehow, but how else am I supposed to describe us?
Kayden didn’t show up for his tattoo appointment today. He gave me a simple message through Marty, no elaboration. “He offered to pay you for the session, anyway.”
When Marty told me that, I almost yelled no. I want to see my man, be close to him, not take his money without providing a service.
“Mr. Hypothetical?” Dad says with a probing tone, a slight smirk on his lips.
“Maybe,” I mutter. “I mean… definitely. The thing is… he’s a bit older than me. He’s forty-one. An ex-dog handler in the military. He served four tours, and he’s a good man, Dad. He’s a great man.”
Dad places his book down slowly. I wonder if he’s going to freak out, but he’s got his listening face on, the one he’s worn countless times when I explained my desire to forgo college and throw myself instantly into my career, or when I’d talk about feeling the lack of a mother, my hunger to belong.
“He’s twice your age,” Dad says.
“Yeah.” I shift in my seat. “But it’s not like that.”
“Like what?” Dad asks, as the soft music plays underneath his voice. Jazz today… the notes meant to help us focus on reading.
“This isn’t an ‘oh, this older man is taking advantage of a younger woman’ scenario.”
“I never said it was,” Dad says, his tone difficult to read. “Why don’t you explain how you see it?”
I place my book down, almost letting out a groan. Nerves buzz up inside of me, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have brought this up. I mean, heck… talking about this with my dad isn’t exactly normal, but Dad’s always been there for me, always wants the best for me.
“I really like him, and I think he likes me, too. He seems like a decent, honorable man. He was here training Buckie.”
“What? When?”
“Yesterday,” I admit.
Dad’s eyes narrow, his smile widening even as I can tell part of him is trying to fight it, to maintain his cool-dad demeanor. “That’s why you seemed in such a rush to get rid of me.”
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“The point is, he was great with Buckie. Jodi and his nephew started harassing me, and Kayden stood up for me. He put them in their place.”
I’m not going to share what happened after—the heat we shared upstairs, my body feeling as though it was melting under his touch. My body still hungers for it now, his hands smoothing over me, his tongue, his huge manhood.
“But after, I made a mistake. I know the signs of PTSD from military work. I’ve seen them.”
Dad’s face softens. We both remember when I was young, how he’d wake up screaming, before I understood what it meant. Then when I got older, Dad sitting me down and explaining it in a gentle voice followed by the years helping him at the veteran’s center, hearing the stories, their truths.
“I made the mistake of mentioning it to him. I don’t think he was ready. He freaked and left. Now I’m not sure where we are.”
I break off with a frantic breath, acutely aware of how strange this could be, discussing this with my dad. But he’s also my closest friend, as sad as that may seem to some.
Dad leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“You sound like you really care about this man. I won’t lie. The age gap is a shock to me, but there’s also a part of me that is thrilled to see you like this.”
“What, upset and pissed?”
“No… passionate and excited about a potential boyfriend. I’ve always wondered when you’d start dating. I’m not getting any younger.”
“You’ll outlive us all, Dad.”
“What I mean is, I want to see you happy before I go. I’d love to meet my grandchildren, too.”
“Whoa, talk about rushing things,” I say, trying for a laugh to mask my instinctive reaction to tell Dad yes, that’s exactly what I want, too. I’m ready, even if I shouldn’t be.