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She looks wildly uncomfortable, and I don’t blame her. I’m sure she can see my hard-on through my jeans, and she pulls her knees up under the blankets, clutching her arms around them to hide from my lecherous view.
“Fuck.” I shake my head and try to gain some control. “You drive the bus for senior services.”
Her eyes widen. “Yeah. You recognize me?”
“Yeah, you pick up my neighbor friend twice a week. Mrs. Morrison. I’m the one that waits for the bus, waits to take her back home when you drop her off. You’ve never seen me?” My brows tighten, and I think of ripping the blankets down, tearing her gown from her and feasting on—
Fuck. Stop.
How do I shut down the thoughts I’ve been having about her for six months, now that I know she’s my fucking daughter? This is crazy.
More than crazy.
I’ve jerked myself raw to thoughts, pictures and fucking watching her through her apartment window.
I scan the room, looking for some evidence we’re being recorded for some YouTube channel. I’m being punked.
Jesus, please, let it be a joke.
“So.” She twists her lips to the side, and I come back to planet Earth. She’s fucking nervous too; I can see that.
And I’m making it fucking worse. I’m a piece of shit.
I do my best to keep my voice low and even. “Hey, this is a hell of a day. But, first, I have to know, are you okay?” My heart clutches, thinking there could be something truly wrong with her. Not only is she the girl that has captivated me for months, but she’s also now my daughter.
Trying to manage both of those facts has my brain about to re-wire itself, but first and most important is her wellbeing.
“I’m not sure. They ran some tests. I may need surgery, sort of a big deal sort of surgery. That’s why we tracked you down. I may need blood, I have AB negative, and it’s super rare. They are hoping we are a match. Just in case.”
Her eyes dance around the room, only lighting on me for the briefest of moments, then away again.
I look at her throat; I can see the flesh throb where her pulse is racing.
“Can I?” I motion with my hand to come closer where there is a chair next to the bed. I don’t want to sit, but I do want to be closer. And maybe if I’m sitting down, I may not scare her any more than she already is. She looks so small in the bed. “I want you to know, before today, I didn’t know about you. If I knew, I would have been there…”
She waves a hand in the air. “I know. It’s okay. Mom told me she never told you about me.”
“This is crazy.” I run a hand back and forth over the top of my head then down to grip the back of my neck. “But when will you know about what’s going on with you?” My need to know if she will be safe is overriding any of my inappropriate thoughts at the moment, thank Christ.
“I’m not sure. They did the tests, said it could be today, maybe tomorrow before they knew something for sure.”
I watch as her throat clenches as she swallows twice then bites into her bottom lip. Her hair rides down her shoulders slick but natural. Her ripe cheeks like peaches, lips plump and shining begging for my—
STOP. Jesus help me.
“I’ll do whatever I can. I’m fucking sorry I never was a part of your life. I need you to know that.” The truth of that rings through me. Even as I’ve lusted after her the last months, it was more.
I wanted to know her, but more than that, I wanted her to be happy. There always seemed to be this nervous sadness about her. She would never look at me, and I was sure it was for the same reasons most people don’t look at me.
It’s not just my looks, which are out of the ordinary at best. I know it’s the energy I carry. The ‘stay the fuck away’ thoughts that play on constant rotation in my head.
There’s a heavy silence, and I glance over at the bedside table. “Can I get you some water? A Coke? Are you hungry? The food here must be shit. Let me get you something to eat.” I swing my head around to look at the door. I need to do something for her.
Everything for her. I need to make up for lost time.
She shakes her head and fusses with the sheet. “No, I’m not hungry. My friend Beth just left, but she brought me a salad.”
“Okay.” I freeze up. There’s so much I want to know, but the wild conflicting thoughts in my head have me twisted and knotted.
