Page 8 of Stealing Daddy's Heart

Garrett's brow furrows. “You've built quite an online following. I saw something about your work on one of the popular social media accounts earlier. How's the planning going?”

He’s paying attention—to me.

“I’ve been working non-stop to get everything together. I’ve been promoting my work online, ramping up my social media, but it's challenging. There are some obstacles I'm trying to overcome.”

And the last major roadblock? Finding the right venue. But the words sit at the tip of my tongue, unspoken.

His eyes widen, concern replacing confusion. “Anything I can help with? You know I have connections in the city.”

I chew on my bottom lip, wondering if I should ask. “I appreciate it, but I'm figuring it out.”

I can't help but laugh at Garrett's worried expression. It's kind of cute, actually.

“I’m certain you are. But that being said, I'd like to help however I can.”

“Thank you.”

My heart sinks as Garrett steps back. “We should head inside before your dad sends a search party,” he says.

Dad. Right. The disappointment must show on my face. “Sure,” I mutter.

Garrett frowns. “Everything okay with you two? He can be tough, but he loves you, Skylar.”

The familiar pang returns. “Does he? Sometimes I wonder if he even knows me. Vanessa planned this party. Dad would've sent a card.”

“Skylar.” His voice is soft, concerned. “Your father's not great at showing it, but he cares about you. You know that, right? He’s just?—”

“Busy?” I finish for him, heat rising in my voice despite my best efforts to remain calm. “Yeah, he’s always busy.”

I press my fingers to my temples. “Sorry. I don’t mean to unload, it’s just?—”

Garrett steps closer, his voice low, protective. “It’s okay to feel how you feel, Sky. And it's okay to want more.”

I shake my head, fighting tears. Years of hurt and anger. “Sorry,” I say, wiping my eyes. “This isn't your problem.”

Garrett opens his mouth as if to respond, but stops himself. Wise choice. He knows there’s history there, a complicated mess of history I’m still sorting through.

Instead, Garrett shifts his stance, casting a glance toward the house. “I mean, you’ve got people rooting for you. Don’t forget that. And if anyone gives you trouble, they'll answer to me.”

His words, meant to reassure, only heighten the tension. It's like he's staking a claim. I want to believe him, to lean into his comfort, but there's a weight to his words.

I lick my lips. Garrett's eyes follow the movement.

“Is that a promise?”

“Always,” he says, his voice strained.

I sigh heavily, knowing he’s right even as it gnaws at me. So much unsaid between my father and me, and there’s Garrett—knowing things Dad never will.

A loud ripple of laughter spills from inside, pulling us back to the reality of the party just inside the heavy glass doors. Garrett straightens, his head turning slightly, acknowledging the world we’ve momentarily slipped away from.

“Come on, Skylar. Let’s not give people any more reason to gossip.”

Gossip. Garrett seems to take every last step carefully—his fingers brush against my lower back, the briefest touch to guide me, but it’s enough to send another wave of heat across my skin. Every inch of me is far too aware of his presence.

Heat floods my cheeks, and before I can answer, my body betrays me. I step back, desperate to hide the way my pulse has kicked into high gear, as though reeling myself in might somehow dull the flush I know must be visible.

“Garrett,” I try again, retreating into safer territory, “Thank you for listening.”

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