Daddy's Secret Baby by Natasha L. Black

Author:Natasha L. Black [Black, Natasha L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

16

Simon

“They’re making good time, huh?” Dad asked.

I nodded slowly. “Yep.”

“Must’ve had things pretty packed up for you there at the school.”

“Probably.”

“At the apartment, too.”

I licked my lips and kept an eye out for the moving van.

After postponing the damn thing twice, the day had finally come. All of my shit was being hauled from Connecticut back to my hometown; the place I’d tried to escape from all those years ago. It helped that the college wanted me out as quickly as possible. And to be honest, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to look back. I had tolerated that job through gritted teeth for far too many years, putting up with their unrealistic expectations and their insanely low budgets for winning teams that had been under my tutelage for years.

If they didn’t want to pay out for winners, they’d never pay out for anything.

“You think they’ll find this place?” Dad asked.

“They better. Because they wanted to charge me an extra two hundred to meet at your place before following me over.”

“Assholes.”

“Right?”

Silence fell between us, and I drew in the fresh air through my nose. I looked around at the changing of the leaves on the trees and the fields with butterflies and rabbits chasing each other around like I was on a fucking movie set for a live action Bambi or some shit. I heard deer rustling off in the distance. I hear twigs crackling and tires slowly coming up the gravel walkway. I grinned over at Dad, and he smiled brightly, slapping me on the back.

“Sounds like they made it,” he said.

When the moving van emerged into view, I sighed with relief. My entire life was in that twenty-foot truck. My office. My apartment. My belongings. I helped my father off the wooden porch as the moving van came to a stop. I walked around and threw open the back, wanting to make sure nothing had been damaged in the process.

“Everything look good?” Dad asked.

“Yep. Go ahead and walk the guys through the cabin. I’m going to start bringing boxes in,” I said.

Dad loved giving tours of the place, especially when he got to regale them with stories of Mom. I’d heard them dozens of times, but they never got old. I didn’t like personally talking about my mother. Not because I didn’t love her, but because I didn’t remember much about her. The more I talked about her, the more it reminded me that my memories weren’t my own. Just stories my father told me as a child to help me sleep. Stories of how my mother used to smile, what her laugh sounded like—anything to paint her in the light he remembered about her.

And not the dark cloud everyone assumed her to be.

“And this is the master bedroom. The bedroom suite will go in here, if he’s got one. You know, my wife and I never actually used this room. We used the one down the hallway—technically, the guest room, but it overlooks the edge of the lake in the distance.

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