Page 1 of Daddy Reed

Chapter1

Reed

She’s still my daughter.

After all these years and all the children we’ve created together, Devon is still my child. The little girl I raised turned out to be a fierce, loving, and intelligent woman. Daddy’s little girl. Sometimes, like now, I can almost forget she’s my wife and get lost in a time decades before when she didn’t call me Reed. When I was just Dad. Her protector, her disciplinarian, her provider.

It’s always when she sleeps.

Her features aren’t that of a woman who recently turned forty. There are no wrinkles or crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. And, despite giving birth so many times, she’s still toned and trim. When she sleeps, though, her golden blonde hair sweeping over her rosy cheek and her plump lips parted, she’s angelic.

She’s fucking perfect.

It probably makes me a little sick in the head, but I miss being her dad. The dynamics of our relationship changed when we came to Alaska. I’d been trying desperately to connect with my wife at the time—Devon’s mother—and us picking up to permanently move here was supposed to solve that.

I was wrong.

Sabrina pulled away even further as time went on. The death of our son, and Devon’s twin, Drew, was a devastating blow to Sabrina as a mother. She never really could move on. Sabrina lived in the misery of her aching heart, leaving me and Devon to heal together.

Because of this, my daughter and I grew close, like any typical familial relationship. It was normal.Wewere normal.

The move to Alaska changed everything.

We lost yet another vital member of our family and were then forced to survive.

Things evolved.

Weevolved.

What happened between us back then. . . It shouldn’t have happened. I fucked up and allowed her to control me by my dick. And she did. Devon whittled away at my self-control until there was nothing left.

I took her.

I made her fucking mine.

Daughter and lover.

Child turned eventual wife.

Our relationship only makes sense out here. In the wild. Where we’re free to love each other despite society’s rules. We don’t belong in town. The few times we’ve gone there with Atticus for supplies or other reasons, it always became clear within the first few minutes.

My other children hate when we leave home.

Sure, they love the goodies Atticus and Eve bring them on their visits, but I don’t miss the terror in their eyes whenever they experience the big, bad world.

Hell, my eldest son Rowdy went to town a few years ago to get a taste of that life. It scarred him in ways he refused to speak about. He came back hardened and jaded. My crazy, laughing, silly boy transformed into this twenty-two-year-old quiet beast, always stewing and mentally suffering from whatever fucked him up out there.

Devon stirs, her brows pinching together, and my attention is drawn back to her. With a house full of kids, she rarely gets a break. Dawson, not even a year old, sleeps in our room, so even the nights are consumed by the needs of our children. Thankfully, tonight, he’s sleeping soundly.

Whatever held her hostage in her dreams has gone away, and her features, illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the window, become serene once more. My fingers crave to comb through her hair and comfort her or press my mouth to hers, but I don’t dare wake her.

My mind drifts back to our children. All eight of them are perfect in their own ways. Even Rowdy, despite whatever hurt him before. They’re all unique individuals with silly quirks, strong personalities, and intense love for each other. I was pleased to know that long after I’m gone, they’ll have each other for decades to come.

Devon stiffens, and then her eyes pop open. I swear, even in sleep, she never fully relaxes. Always in mama bear mode.

“Hey, Pip,” I murmur, low to not wake Dawson.

Her lips curl into a smile. “Hey, handsome.”

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