AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I blink away my fresh tears. If I could “blink” my ears, I would, because I’m sure I heard him wrong. Did he just call himself Daddy…like Jud does? And did he tell me to sit on his lap? When we barely know each other? Is he going to be a bossy alpha, too? No girl should have to handle more than one of those in her life.
Hesitant, I stand in the door between the kitchen and living room. The antique lamp on the coffee table casts Rev in a sepia glow. When the other guys come over, they sit on the ratty couch. Rev chose the armchair instead. I’ve imagined sitting in that chair and reading a book when I have some free time, but the opportunity has yet to present itself. Plus, there don’t seem to be many books around other than the medical books Doc keeps and the maps and atlases Jud pores over.
Somehow, Rev looks like he belongs in that chair. Filling it up with his tall frame, knees spread wide, and long fingers resting over the fronts of the arms, he looks like a king on a throne. He makes the normal-sized furniture look smaller than I know it to be.
His crazy eyes are fixed on me as he extends an arm in invitation.
Steeling myself, I go to him. He guides me to stand between his legs, and I lower myself onto one strong thigh. He’s holding most of my weight, but my feet are still off the floor. It’s more like I’m leaning into him than sitting on him, but it’s a start.
“Why do you and Jud want me to call you…that?” I wrinkle my nose as the word enters my mind.Daddy.Jud uses the word, and I like it, but only because he says it in the heat of the moment. Hearing it when there’s nothing sexy going on feels strange.
Rev rests his arm around my waist. His mouth twitches into a smile. “Jud’s your daddy, too, huh?” He nods and strokes his goatee. “That makes sense. Well, there ain’t no rule against a girl having two daddies.”
“There should be,” I mutter.
Rev’s laugh isn’t the loud, reverberating one he lets loose with the others. It’s a quiet, rolling chuckle that speaks of unexpected amusement. I like catching him off guard with my attitude. He seems to like it too.
“Tell you what.” His smile is completely disarming, as are the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Go put on a kettle for tea and I’ll answer your question while the water boils.” He saysboilswith a roundedl, likebolls.His accent is southern, and his voice is deep and soft. When Rev speaks, it’s impossible not to listen…and obey.
Tea does sound nice. I leave his lap to light the gas stove, and I’m surprised to miss his warmth. Sitting with him felt nice, like I was protected and cherished. He didn’t demand any more from me than my presence. He’s not bossy like Jud, I realize, as I fill the kettle and set it over the flame. He carries himself with authority, but it’s a quiet, patient authority.
Rev calls out, “Make mine an herbal, so I can get some shuteye tonight.”
Hopefully not too much shuteye. I do have plans for you.
I stop and blink at myself, surprised at the thought. The prospect of going to bed with Rev doesn’t leave me panicky and cold. It actually stirs a longing in me that’s as quiet and patient as he is.
What will it be like, kissing a man so much older than me? Will his chest hair have gray in it? How can I be attracted to him when he’s older than my father would be if he hadn’t died from the Virus? Is it weird to like someone so much older?
Whatever the answers, I’m looking forward to exploring Rev. I’m hoping he can help me with my aversion to sex, like, all-the-way sex. But it’s a nervous hope.
My stomach churns as I set out mugs and put a bag of chamomile tea in each. I found the unopened box in a drawer the other morning. The “Best before” date was several months before Week Zero. Like a lot of the canned and packaged foods available to survivors, it’s expired. Fortunately, Shep knows what’s still fine after the expiration date and what might kill you. Tea is safe, and you wouldn’t know this box was past its date by the soothing fragrance that filled my little kitchen the first time I had some.
I leave the kettle over a high flame and return to Rev’s lap. This time, I trust him with more of my weight. He accepts it readily, using one long arm to encourage me to rest against his chest, which is covered in a soft concert Tee framed by worn flannel. He’s warm and comfortable. Maybe even safe. Maybe.
“That’s it, little one. Good girl. Daddy don’t bite.”
The “good girl” does something interesting to me down low. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole daddy thing, but apparently, my body is on board.
“So.” I clear my throat. I’m not quite relaxed, being this close to him, but I’m trying. “Why do you want me to call you—uh—?” I struggle to say it.
“Daddy?” he answers for me. A matter-of-fact fill-in-the-blank. He treats the word like there’s nothing odd about it, nothing naughty or dirty, nothing to imply the one uttering it has untoward intentions.
“Yeah. That.” For lack of a better place to put my arms, I cross them over my stomach. “I had a father.” Dad was an amazing man and a near-perfect father. He was my hero. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him and Mom with an ache in my heart. “He was a good dad. Isn’t the whole ‘daddy’ thing—” I make air quotes “for people with father issues…or, like, kinks and stuff?” My cheeks bloom with heat. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.
“Sometimes.” Rev rubs soothing circles on my back. He’s relaxed, like he talks about this kind of thing every day. “But not always. Tell me this, little one. What did you call the man who loved and raised you?”
“I called him Dad.” Or sometimes Pops, to be funny, especially when he needed help figuring something out on his iPhone.
“Not Daddy?”
I shake my head. “Not since I was little.”
Rev studies me with those wide eyes that see so much more than everyone else’s. I shift, feeling exposed, but Rev’s hold grounds me.
“A good father offers protection,” he says. “He’s responsible for his little ones. He cares for them. Meets their physical needs. Offers discipline when it’s needed. Guides them so they grow into good people, and when they’re grown, he’s always there to lend a listening ear and give solid advice.” He thrusts out his lower lip and nods sagely. “A gooddaddydoes all that, too, but he also looks after his little one’s pleasure.”
I suck in a breath and feel my eyes bug out of my head. Spoken in that hypnotic voice, the word “pleasure” sounds so—sobald.
