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

free of his handkerchiefs. I wonder why she’s bringing him when she usually hides him away, but now is not the time to ask questions. I hope that having him gives her enough comfort to get through the day. She makes it outside and stops.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers, looking at the long black limo.

The death ride is what Joe calls it. Something about seeing it makes reality sink in.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” I tell her.

I take her hand, but I don’t guide her. I wait for her to move. Her soft fingers lace with mine and I hear her take a deep breath before she gets in. She doesn’t say another word the whole ride over to the cemetery. Roger wasn’t much of a churchman, so he only wanted a graveside service. She wipes a tear from her cheek when we pull up and see all the flowers surrounding his casket.

“You’re not alone, Sydney,” I gently remind her and she just nods her head.

Her mother called her late last night and again an hour before we came here making sure she was okay. She wanted to fly out for the service, but Sydney asked her not to.

“She’d just make it worse,” is the only explanation she gave me.

I overheard her part of the conversation and I concluded that Heidi wants her to come to stay with her in Montreal when this is over. I was half-ecstatic and half-miserable when she agreed. The selfish bastard that I am has to admit that I’ll miss knowing she’s at least somewhere in the same city. The girl has been running enticingly naked marathons in my head since she was fifteen. It’s going to be hell letting that go, but I will fucking do it or die trying.

The graveside service is small. His old friends came through for him and showed up, as well as a few of our colleagues. As for Sydney, Matt and Leslie, are here in support of her as are Mom, Joe, and Bree. Unlike the man, the service is simple. There isn’t a lot of fanfare and praise, just a celebration of his life and a fond farewell.

Sydney delivers his eulogy. She speaks of her childhood and the wonderful memories she has of her father until there isn’t a dry eye around. He would be proud of her. She stands strong, giving a warm smile to everyone who passes her offering condolences. She hugs Mom, Bree, and her friends goodbye and soon, it’s just the two of us standing at his grave watching as they lower him down. She waits until the taillights of the last car’s out of sight before she dissolves in tears, clutching on to her rabbit, staring down at the closed lid of her father’s casket.

“Sydney,” I say, alarmed by her holding her rabbit over the grave, ready to drop him in with her dad.

“I shouldn’t keep it,” she tells me through her tears. “He gave it to me out of love, but now he hates me and I shouldn’t keep it.”

“Sydney,” I whisper to her. “Don’t.”

I gently take the rabbit from her hands and pull her into me. Her legs give out underneath her so I pick her up, holding her in my arms as she clings to me. She nestles her face into me, using my neck to cover her eyes. I can feel her tears on my skin.

“Everything is different,” she says. “Everything I thought I knew is just so different. He hates me, and I don’t even know if it should matter. I don’t even know if he’s the man I thought he was.”

“He’s your dad, that’s all that’s important right now.”

“Take me away, please. It hurts too much to be here.”

I carry her to the limo and gently place her inside. She sleeps the forty-minute drive back home and I carry her up to her room and put her to bed. I undo her hair, brush it out of her face with my hands before I kiss her cheek. I leave her blinds open for light and her door cracked the way she prefers it.

Sleep eludes me, so I distract myself with work, halfway hoping that Sydney will come to me as she always does. I sense her long before I can see her. My body calms and excites all at the same time when she comes and joins me in the living room. She perches herself on the couch and watches as I walk back and forth in front of her.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I tell her as I stop the closing argument I was giving and turn to face her.

“You didn’t. I’ve been up for a long time.”

“Are you hungry? I can heat you something.”

“I don’t feel much like eating.”

“Then let’s get you into bed. You need to sleep.”

She takes my offered hand and I take her to my bedroom, leading her toward my bed so I can tuck her in.

“I’m not tired,” she says, pulling my hand so I’ll turn to face her.

“Sydney,” I say in warning when she steps into me. The warning only seems to encourage her as she boldly presses her lips to mine.

“Mmm,” she moans when my mouth greedily claims hers.

My hand slides up her neck and cups her chin. I pull out of our kiss and tilt her head, making her look at me. Her eyes dance as mine search them trying to get a sense of how far she wants to take this.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had you and I’m not even sure if it’s the right thing to do anymore.”

My willpower is fading thinking about being inside of her.

“I want you to have me. I don’t care if it’s right or wrong or whatever. I just need you to make me feel good again, even if it’s just for a little while. Please, Daddy.”

“Jesus, Sydney, don’t call me that, not after everything