Daddy in the Dark Novel – “Emily, you finish packing the camping gear or what?” Mom’s voice boomed from the living room. “Almost!” I called back, though honestly I’d spent the last ten minutes staring out the window instead of actually folding shit. Out in the driveway, Michael—my stepdad—was bent over the car, rinsing off the soap. Shirtless. Just bronzed skin and toned muscles. Water trickled down his back in lazy streams, and my pulse spiked like it had been doing around him recently. Those wide shoulders.
The way his biceps flexed when he moved the hose. Mid-thirties and he had zero right looking that unfairly hot. My bio dad ghosted when Mom was seven months pregnant with me. Never came back. Michael married her when I was six and basically became my real dad from day one. Mom’s always stressed, short-fused, buried in work. She’s not the “bake cookies and braid hair” type. When I freaked out over my first period, it was Michael who sat me down, red-faced, and explained everything. When some asshole boy dumped me in middle school, Michael just held me on the couch while I cried ugly tears into his shirt, never once telling me to toughen up.
And now I was standing here, eyes glued to his bare torso through the glass, feeling shit I knew was wrong. He looked up suddenly. I yanked my gaze away and pretended to zip my duffel like my life depended on it. “Ready to officially adult tomorrow?” Mom teased, appearing in the doorway with a wink. I rolled my eyes so hard. Yeah, turning eighteen. That’s why we were dragging our asses to Glacier National Park for some “epic sunrise coming-of-age” bullshit Mom was obsessed with. Thirty-degree heat, bugs everywhere, clothes sticking to me? I’d take central AC and birthday cake any day.
But Michael was genuinely pumped about it. So yeah… I caved. He glanced toward the house again and flashed me that quiet, reassuring smile—like he could read my mind. I dropped my eyes to the floor, heat crawling up my throat. The drive was three hours. Mom talked nonstop from the front seat about work drama. “Then Rachel—Rachel—had the audacity to say my report was late. Like she’s Miss Perfect who never misses deadlines.” Michael gave a low laugh. “You two are gonna kill each other one day.” “She fucking started it,” Mom muttered. A hot gust blasted through the cracked window.
Mom sneezed three times fast, rolled it up, and sniffed. “Goddamn it. I’m definitely getting sick.” Michael reached over, pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You feel warm. We can turn around if you need to.” I watched the flex of his forearm. Wished that casual tenderness belonged only to me. “No chance,” Mom said stubbornly. “My daughter is not turning eighteen without the most gorgeous sunrise on the planet.” “Mom, it’s fine. We can come back another time.” “I’ll be okay after a nap. Just slept like crap last night.” I clamped my mouth shut. Arguing with her when she got like this was pointless.
When we finally pulled into the campsite, Mom looked like hell. Eyes half-closed, breaths coming heavier. “This is so dumb,” she groaned, fingers digging into her temples. “My skull feels packed with gravel.” Michael was at her side in a second, steadying her elbow. “Come sit by the lake. In the shade. Stay out of the sun.” He guided her to a camp chair near the water. She collapsed into it with a tired huff. “I’ll help Daddy set up the tent,” I said, stepping up beside him. Mom flapped a limp hand. “Go. I’m dead weight right now. Just scream if a bear shows up.” “Got it.” Michael exhaled, eyeing the pile of gear. “Let’s make this quick so she can actually rest inside later.” I nodded and trailed after him. He dropped the empty duffel and started untying cords.
I crouched next to him to help with the clips. Reaching for one, the back of my hand grazed the warm skin of his lower abs. His muscles jumped under the contact. Electricity raced up my arm. I jerked back like I’d touched fire. He didn’t even blink. Just murmured, calm as ever, “Pass me that pol