Deep Wood

Silas

“Careful,” I tell Norah. “Don’t stick yourself.”

She bats my hand away. “This isn’t my first time fishing, you know.”

I lean back and watch her bait the worm on the hook. It takes her a minute to secure the wriggler, but eventually she gets it. Honestly, I never doubted that she could do it on her own. I just like to be the one to show her how.

“Voila,” she says. “Told you I had this, Daddy.” Sometimes she calls me Daddy, sometimes Silas, depending on her mood. But in bed, I’m always Daddy, and she’s always sweetheart or baby girl.

“Forgive me for not wanting to see you impaled like that worm.” The boat rocks slightly as she casts her line into the sun-dappled pond. I’ve been in and out of the garage a hundred times looking for tools, but didn’t notice the motorboat hitched to the rafters until this afternoon.

It was Norah who suggested we take the boat out. I was glad to find the engine still had some juice. We hitched up the trailer, loaded up my truck and drove the half mile down the mountain to the pond. The scene was perfect from the moment we got here. Clear skies, and crystal waters. Birdsong and crisp mountain air.

I know I said I’d give the cabin back to Norah’s mom, once I figured out where the hell I was headed. But after a week in the great outdoors, I can’t imagine returning to civilization. More importantly, I can’t imagine going back to my empty apartment, back to the nine to five, back to life before Norah.

And from the way she’s smiling at me now, I have a hunch she feels the same way.

Ever since the day of the storm, I haven’t been able to keep my hands off her. If I can’t touch her, then I need to at least be able to see her, and if I can’t see her, I’m counting down the seconds till she’s in my arms.

Being inside her feels like coming alive and coming home. My topping style in the past has always been more heavy-handed. Before Norah, I never wanted to call a submissive my baby girl. She brings out the Daddy in me, the part that wants to cherish and look after her. But the Dom that wants to tie her up and eat her from behind while fingering her tight little asshole is always there, waiting for his chance to make her squirm and writhe. Just last night, I had her bouncing up and down on my dick while we played a rousing game of Simon Says. Halfway through the game, I realized I will never get enough of this girl.

But it’s not all about the sex. Norah’s relaxed out here, quick to laugh and quicker to smile. The fear has left her eyes, and she’s stopped jumping at every little bump in the night. She’s even quit looking over her shoulder when we go into town for supplies, because she knows what she’ll find if she does. She’ll find me, watching her back, always close enough to reach out and touch.

“I take it your dad taught you how to fish?” I ask her.

“He did. And I bet you’re going to tell me all about how much he hated it when he was younger.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken.” I cast my line into the shimmering pond. “Jack would’ve had to at least tried it to hate it. If he so much as looked at a fish before it was cleaned and filleted, he couldn’t eat it. He said their eyes were watching him.”

“Unbelievable. That bastard used to chase me around the yard with fish eyeballs.” She stares out at the water, lost in her memories. “Do you think he’s here with us?”

My body tenses. I don’t consider myself superstitious, and I haven’t given much thought to whether I believe in Heaven and if so, which one. But I suspect that if Jack were here somehow, he might not be so amenable to the idea of me shacking up with his kid.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “If he is, I hope he’s catching more fish than we are.”

Her mouth tilts, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t think he’d be happy for us?”

“If I were him, and you were my daughter, I’d be furious.”

“I am yours.” She drapes her arm around my neck. “And if he were here to see how good we are together I know he’d be happy for us.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I am.” Her optimism makes my chest tighten. I have to kiss her.

She moans softly as I weave my fingers into her hair. I have no real idea how Jack would feel about the two of us. But in getting to know Norah, I’ve gained a much clearer picture of the man he grew into. A compassionate, responsible, hardworking man—a workaholic from the sounds of it. Sadly, in his determination to provide for his family, he missed out on watching his daughter grow up.

One thing I know in my bones is that Jack couldn’t have known what Norah’s ex was putting her through. If he had, he’d have killed the little prick himself. No doubt Brody had used her father’s absence to his advantage. If Jack hadn’t been so busy working, he might’ve noticed the anguish in her eyes, or the scars hiding in plain sight on her skin. He would’ve put a stop to Norah’s pain before it even started.

Hell, I could’ve done the same.

If hadn’t refused Jack’s apology at my dad’s funeral, maybe we could have patched things up. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, so self-righteous, I could’ve been there to look out for Norah as she grew up. I could’ve sent that shithead packing with two black eyes the moment he rolled up in the driveway.

Everything about the trajectory of our lives could’ve been different.

“I think I’ve got something,” she says. Grasping her rod with both hands, she starts to reel in her catch. Sure enough, her line goes stiff.

“Nice and steady, baby,” I tell her. “You’ve got this.”