Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Padding softly through the hallway in her oversized t-shirt and boxers, Hannah makes her way to the kitchen. The house is quiet, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator. She opens it, letting out a cool mist that kisses her skin, and grabs a bottle of water. As she closes it, she notices the light under her father's study door. She hasn't seen him this focused in months. Curiosity piqued, she tiptoes closer and presses her ear to the wood. Through the crack at the bottom, she sees the flicker of his computer screen and hears the faint tapping of his keyboard. "What's he working on at this hour?" she wonders to herself.
Hannah is a 22-year-old young woman with long, dark hair that cascades down her back in soft waves. Her heart beating a little faster, Hannah approaches the study door with the grace of a cat. Her bare feet make no sound on the cool, hardwood floor. The light spilling from beneath the door casts a warm glow up her toned legs, hinting at the athleticism she's inherited from her father. Her dark hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a few strands framing her face as she peers through the crack at the bottom. The flicker of the computer screen casts an eerie blue light across her features, accentuating the curiosity in her hazel eyes. She bites her lower lip, the only sign of the tension she feels. The sound of Dylan's keyboard is rhythmic and intense, hinting at something important—or perhaps just his obsessive nature. She's about to turn away when she hears a soft sigh, and the rhythm changes.
Her eyes widen in shock. The scene before her is one she never expected to witness. Dylan, her father, is hunched over his computer, his hand moving rapidly in his lap. His face is a mix of concentration and something else—desire? Confusion floods Hannah's mind. She feels a sudden urge to flee, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. But she's also frozen, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight of her father's vulnerability. A part of her wants to understand, but another part feels as though she's invading his privacy. "Oh my god," she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand.
Her shock subsides slightly as Hannah remembers that her mother had left Dylan three years ago for a younger man. She'd seen the pain etched on his face, the way he'd withdraw into himself. He'd always been a private person, but this was something she'd never expected to witness. She swallows hard, her hand still over her mouth, the coolness of the bottle in her other hand a stark contrast to the heat in her cheeks. She can't help but feel a twinge of pity for her father. He's still a man, with needs, and she knows he's been lonely. Her thoughts are a jumble of concern, confusion, and a strange sense of maturity that tells her this is a part of life she can't ignore.