Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel, Rebel Wild [top 10 most read books in the world .TXT] 📗

“Leave it be for now,” I told her. “Unless you want it gone.”

Pictures of Sydney in various stages of her life were on the walls. The earliest is with a woman who I can only assume is her mother, Heidi, and the later ones are of just the two of them next to a lake, holding up freshly caught fish, or candid shots of them playing around with the camera. The only professional photos are the photos Sydney took every year at school. She took one of the many pictures of him with his arms folded at his chest down off the wall.

“He thought the pose made him look tough,” she explained. “He called it the prosecutor pose.” She laughed.

“It scares the shit out of people,” I told her, hoping it would make her smile. She did one better and laughed. I liked hearing a genuine laugh coming from her.

Once her dad’s buried and everything is all said and done, I hope she’ll have many more reasons to laugh. The car jerks forward from me hitting the gas too hard when I think about someone else making her laugh. My territorial nature arises in me and I have to swallow hard to keep it from erupting. How am I going to be able to stomach her giving what has only been mine to another man? Who in their right mind would leave paradise after being blessed with entry through its gates?

“A damn fool, that’s who.” I say to my reflection in the rearview mirror. Disgusted at my own damn self, I focus on the road. “A goddamn fool.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Some detective came by yesterday to give me Daddy’s belongings. It wasn’t much. Just the money I’d put on his books that he hadn’t spent a penny of and my graduation picture he kept on his wall. I also learned about the man who killed him. He’s already doing life with no parole, so there isn’t much they can do to him. That didn’t stop him from singing like a canary when he was offered a transfer to another state. He confessed that Detective Dalton orchestrated the whole thing to stop Daddy from taking a deal that would have gotten him out in a few years if he gave him up.

Mr. Garrett was right about Daddy being his partner. He’d throw cases for whoever paid him and they’d use the money for gambling, racketeering, and a whole lot of other things I had no clue he was involved in. I don’t even know how to process it all. How can this be the same man I’ve worshipped my whole life?

I know he did horrible things, but I just can’t hate him. He was my daddy. He gave me everything I ever wanted, more love than I knew what to do with, and now he’s gone. I just don’t know what to do with myself right now. I can barely make it through a day without crying. Mom says that I’m still in shock and that it’s all been too much for me. She won’t give me a straight answer when I ask her if she knew what Daddy was into. She just wants me to focus on the happy memories. Maybe she’s right.

Four Days Later

Joe’s been picking up my mail more often. There are tons of condolence cards and letters from his friends from where he went to school, back in New York. I didn’t even know he stayed in touch with anyone from back then. In the announcement I put on his social media page, I asked for flowers to go directly to the funeral home in preparation for his service. I asked my friends to do the same. They’ve been calling and checking up on me, making sure I’m okay, asking me if I need anything. No one’s been there for me like Mr. Garrett, especially on those nights when I can’t sleep and I end up in his bed.

I start with the best of intentions. I go to my room, change, and get comfortable in bed, but before too long, I’m creeping down the stairs. I was apprehensive the first night I did it. I didn’t know if I’d be welcomed, but when I got to his door, I was surprised he’d left it cracked open. He’s done that every night since and every night when I get into bed with him, he sighs contently in his sleep, turns over, and wraps me in his arms.

Sleep always comes quickly when I’m in his arms and his bed. I don’t really know what to make of that, and I’m in no position to figure it out. I’m just trying to get through to the next minute. What happens after that is anyone’s guess. Tonight, it’s different. Tonight, I have to force myself to sleep because in the morning I have to find the strength to say goodbye to my daddy.

The overcast we woke up to this morning has certainly set the mood for what I’m sure is about to be one of the worst days in Sydney’s life, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to make it easier for her. Memories of my dad’s funeral bubble up from the cesspool of my mind where I thought I’d drowned them. Mom’s crying keeps ringing in my ears and the smell of those damn chrysanthemums that surrounded his casket is clogging my nose. To this day, I fucking hate those damn flowers, but today isn’t about my sick bastard of a father. Today is about helping her.

“Sydney,” I call to her, quietly opening her bedroom door. “The limo just pulled up.”

Her simple, black dress falls into place as she stands. Her hair’s in a neat bun behind her head and her makeup is minimal. She’s stunning.

She grabs that beat-up old rabbit that’s now