Daisy
Mom and I walked out to the kitchen and Archer made his way over to us with a frown. "Why are you crying, Daisy?" He glanced at Mom and asked, "Why’s Daisy crying?"
"Did that asshole do sothing to her?" Cash demanded.
"That asshole has been taken care of by Dad," I pointed out.
"Not him," Cash hissed. "Huck."
"Huck is not an asshole, dickhead." I jabbed a finger in his chest. "And if you say anything like that again, I’m going to cut your nut-sack off."
"Children!" Mom admonished. "Enough!"
"Sorry, Mom," we grumbled, but I shot Cash a warning glare as he flopped onto my sofa.
I headed into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, my emotions all over the place as I internally processed everything that had happened this morning. I was mad at myself for kicking Huck out because I just wanted to crawl into bed and snuggle up against him. I felt safe with him. Sothing I didn’t think I’d ever feel again with a man, at least in a romantic sense. Despite the fact I was well-protected, I didn’t find it easy to trust, but I trusted him, and I’d blown it.
Royally.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Huck was probably never going to speak to again and that made feel sick to my stomach, but I’d made my proverbial bed, so I was stuck lying in the cold, scratchy sheets.
Dad walked in a few minutes later, forcing to shove my emotions down deep inside. Pasting on what I hoped was a genuine smile, I helped him unpack the bag of bagels and cream cheese, then joined my family for breakfast.
"You still freaked?" Dad asked once my brothers had said their goodbyes (conveniently without helping to clean up).
His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the counter while I loaded the dishwasher. Mom was currently in my bedroom because she’d insisted on folding at least one load of my laundry before they left. Since I loved it when my mom did my laundry, I didn’t object.
"About Stew?"
He nodded.
"No," I said.
"Then what’s up?" he pressed.
I studied him for a few seconds, debating on whether or not I should make up a story. Unfortunately, and because my dad wasn’t stupid and could read like a book anyway, I told him the truth in the end, because if I didn’t, he’d know I was lying, so subterfuge was futile.
"I think I fucked up with Huck."
He frowned. "How so?"
"I was...well... ."
"I really wish you didn’t do that, Ducky," Dad said with a sigh.
"I know. But I’m a lot for so people to take and I really like him, Daddy, so the fact that I might have lost him kind of hurts."
He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Baby girl, if you’ve lost him over this, he’s not the man for you."
"Easier said than felt."
"I get it."
"How could you possibly get it, Daddy?" I huffed out in frustration. "You’re a boy."
He chuckled. "You’re right, I am. So, let fill you in on a little sothing about us boys."
I wrinkled my nose and slamd the dishwasher door closed. "Do tell."
"When we find a woman who rocks us to our core, we will do whatever it takes to make her ours. And I’ve seen how Huck looks at you, baby girl." He frowned. "I don’t like it, but I see it."
"Ew," I squealed.
I couldn’t figure out what was worse, the thought of my father rocking my mother or my father thinking of Huck rocking . Either way, I wanted all the rocking in my head to stop imdiately.
"What?" Dad asked.
"Nothing." I sighed. "It’s just awkward talking to your father about your love life."
"Should it be?" he challenged. "You knew that I was aware you’d grow up one day, right?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."
"Believe it or not, as much as I loved when you were my little girl, I also looked forward to the day we’d be able to talk about important stuff." He raised an eyebrow. "And what’s more important than fighting for the person you love?"
I gasped. "Who said I loved Huck?"
"Well, don’t you?"
"It’s only been a week."
Dad gave a sweet smile. "Do you rember Mr. Flopsy?"
"Of course. He was my very first pet."
"No," he corrected. "He was your first love."
I chuckled. "What are you talking about?"
"You know those cartoons where the characters lock eyes and the red hearts appear above their heads?" he asked, and I nodded. "Well, that’s what happened when you were eight and you saw that bunny at the farr’s market. I swear I saw it with my own eyes... little hearts over your head, the second you saw him. He was the runt of the litter and missin’ a foot, but you didn’t want any of the other bunnies in the pen. Just him."
I chuckled. "Well, he was special."
"See? That’s what I’m talking about," he said. "You latch onto who you latch onto. And you’ve always loved who you love, no matter what anyone says. You have an innate ability to not only see, but foster, the absolute best qualities in a person. It’s sothing that I admire about you and strive to be like myself."
I burst into tears. "Really?"
"Yeah, baby, really."
"Well, mark down for all future adult father-daughter talks."
He pulled into his arms and kissed my temple. "Welco to the club, Ducky."
We stood in the kitchen, our arms wrapped around each other, and I let the love that only a father could show seep into . By the ti my parents left , I was feeling much better about my world and my place in it.
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