Page 2 of Claimed By The Mountain Man

To my surprise, my dad is home when I swing the door open. What’s even weirder is that he’s happy to see me.

“There’s my girl!” he calls.

I hesitate in the doorway. “Uh, hey, Dad,” I greet him warily.

“How was your day, honey?”

Honey? I mouth silently as I turn to close the door.

“Long. I think I’m going to take a shower and head to bed early,” I tell him.

“Oh, that’s no fun. Let me take you out for dinner to cheer you up.”

I blink. I can’t remember the last time my dad wanted to do something with me. It’s been even longer since he offered to pay for dinner.

I’m suspicious, but a small, stupid part of me is happy. I’m hopeful. Hopeful that he’s noticed the distance between us and wants to improve our relationship. Hopeful that he’ll finally show interest in me. Hopeful that maybe he’ll finally appreciate all that I do around here.

“Um, yeah, okay. Dinner sounds good,” I agree.

He beams. “Great! Let’s go.”

“All right,” I whisper.

He hurries out the front door and down the steps. “Oh, can we take your car, sweetie?”

“I guess.”

He smiles, ignoring my obvious confusion and wariness. I unlock the car, and he hops into the driver’s seat. I don’t argue as I slide into the passenger seat and pass him the keys.

“I need to make a quick stop first,” he tells me as we pull into traffic.

“For what?”

“Just to drop something off.”

I want to ask what he’s dropping off since he doesn’t have anything with him, but I’m too tired. I only hope it’s not drugs as we make our way through downtown.

A few minutes later, he parks. I frown up at the building. I don’t know where I expected him to stop, but it definitely wasn’t a church.

Dad looks at me and smiles. “We need to go in quickly.”

I look at him in confusion. “We?”

He nods, looking nervous. Sweat has formed on his brow, and his eyes keep darting around. He can’t sit still.

A pit forms in my stomach.

“Why are we at a church?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he hops out and slams the driver’s side door. I pause, debating what to do. The church looks decent, and people are coming and going. I decide it’s safer to see what’s going on than to wait here.

I slowly get out of the car, taking my keys from my dad in case I need to bolt. I follow him up the steps and inside. It’s quiet, everyone speaking in hushed tones. I glance around, looking for any sign of trouble, but only a handful of people are milling around up front.

“What do you need to do?” I ask.

When Dad turns to look at me, my stomach drops. He looks… guilty.

“Dad—”