Page 69 of At First Flight
I haven’t texted her since we left, but God, I miss her.
My feelings are ridiculous, considering I saw her just a couple of hours ago, but my mind hums in a way that hasn’t quieted.
Dean:
Kid chaos in full effect. You’ve fed me to the wolves. I’m not sure I’ll recover.
Lila:
I’m sure you’ll survive.
Dean:
Rescuing me might be the only option at this point.
Lila:
Soldier on, my friend. It’s only for another hour.
Dean:
I’ll be buried with the balloons by that time.
Lila:
Be careful! They’re likely to turn you into a piñata in that case.
Dean:
Have fun today, but not too much fun tonight.
I can hear her rolling her eyes from here.
Lila:
Yes, Dad.
I’m not sure she realized the effect her text would cause, my pants tightening from my cock stiffening. I wonder if she liked dirty talk in bed.
I’m still gripping my phone, barely registering the half-completed text on the screen as I hear the pitter-patter of little feet racing toward me. My mind is still wrapped up in the conversation from earlier, but the moment I look up and see Oliver barreling toward me, breathless and wild, something inside me shifts.
“Dad!” he yells, his eyes wide with excitement. “There is a pirate ship we get to hit with a bat.”
My heart stutters in my chest. For a second, I can’t breathe. The word "Dad" hangs in the air between us, louder than any noise coming from the party, reverberating deep in my soul. It feels like a punch, but in the most beautiful, gut-wrenching way.
I blink, trying to ground myself, but everything shifts.
What just happened? Did he just…?
His innocent face beams up at me, so filled with joy and excitement over some ridiculous childhood game, but I can’t seem to shake the weight of what he just said. “Dad.”
I don’t even know how to explain what it does to me. It’s like the entire world shifted at that moment. All the shit I’ve been running from, all the reasons I convinced myself I couldn’t be a father, all the fear of screwing up—it suddenly doesn’t matter. Because this kid just called meDad, and it feels like it’s been waiting to spill out for a lot longer than just today.
I force myself to focus, clearing my throat as I try to speak. But a part of me is still spinning because I never thought this would happen. Not like this. Not with someone like Oliver, someone who’s not mine but who’s been slowly crawling into my heart in ways I can’t even put into words.
“Jesus, kid. Who in their right mind gives a bat to a bunch of four- and five-year-olds?” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended, a little strained, but the words fall flat compared to the riot of emotions tumbling through me.
Oliver doesn’t seem to notice the shift. He’s too wrapped up in his excitement, his voice a constant stream of energy. But I can feel it. That one word.Dad.It’s like a promise, like it’s just a matter of time before I settle into this role for good.
