Page 6 of Daddy's Doll

I still can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched, followed. It's not a sinister sensation, but rather a longing one, an ache that I've grown accustomed to. I glance around, but there's no sign of my dad. There’s no way he’d come here anyway. He’d talk himself out of it, I’m sure. He’s not like Ethan. He’ll always do the right thing, or at the very least, what he thinks is the best thing. He must not realize that I feel like I’ve been poisoned, the life being sucked out of me slowly since we’ve been apart. If he did, would it matter? Would he ever choose me over what he thinks is right? I know he means well. What happened between us wasn’t okay on any level. I berate myself for imagining things, for missing him so fiercely that I conjure his presence where there is nothing.There's a hole in my heart, a hunger for something I can never have.

I push open the creaky side door of the icehouse, the cool air inside instantly soothing the turmoil in my mind. The pristine expanse of the ice rink calls to me, its surface shimmering under the soft glow of overhead lights. The Zamboni driver is finishing up freshening the ice, but the building is mostly empty save for a few players chatting as they head out of the building to rest up from practice. Dad might not be the coach anymore, but I know the drill. They’ll go to the dining hall and stuff their faces and then go back to their dorms to crash until their big game tonight. I carry my skates over my shoulder, their blades clinking together in a comforting rhythm.

As I step further into the building, my eyes are drawn to the far end of the rink. Landon is in the midst of what appears to be a tense conversation with a guy I only know as Killian. He’s the son of one of Dad’s friends I’ve never met. He lives out in the wilderness near where Dad built his cabin with his entire family, but last year, Killian was sent to Hillcrest. He’s something of a hockey prodigy from what I’ve heard Dad and my brothers say, but he didn’t want to come here, and it showed. It’s actually shocking to see him speaking to Landon because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him say more than two words to anyone. Some vicious rumors were swirling around about Killian when he first arrived because he wasn’t used to city living. Some people even said that he was sent here because his parents caught him trying to fuck his sister. I remember cringing because of the things that go on in my family, and it was a stark reminder that just because it doesn’t bother us doesn’t mean the world will accept it.

Landon’s dark hair is matted to his forehead from sweat and he’s still clad in his hockey pads and pants, a frown etched on his face. I watch as Landon waves Killian off. The Zamboni is too loud for me to decipher what they’re saying, but neither of them seems to be angry at each other. Killian pulls the hood from his sweatshirt up over his dark hair, and I note that he’s already showered and changed into Hillcrest sweats. His usually plump lips are drawn tight into a thin line, and he looks like he’s holding his breath. His eyes are wild as he brushes past me, slamming his large body into the side door and rushing out into the crisp air. When the Zamboni pulls off the ice, I realize that Landon’s irritation wasn’t with Killian because he’s frowning down at Sophia. Her long, black hair is elegantly woven into a pristine French braid, adorned with that light pink bow she seems to love. Landon kneels down in front of his twin, inspecting her ankle with a furrowed brow.

Sophia is the only one who seems capable of calming Landon's stormy temperament, and that’s the only reason I bother approaching them because, after the whole ordeal with Dad calling, I’m not really in the mood for his broody ass. She glances up as I approach, a warm smile gracing her delicate features. "Hey, Olivia," she greets.

Landon shoots me a warning look like I’m going to walk over and club her in the head for absolutely no reason. Hopefully, if Dad did lose his mind and come here, he’s only here to drag Landon’s dumbass out into the wilderness where he can fight a bear or punch trees for a hobby. He is so fucking surly, it’s a wonder his face doesn’t shrivel up. Sophia is all that seems to matter to him, and I get it, but geez.

I glance at Sophia’s ankle, and she waves me off. “I’m fine. I wasn’t paying attention and twisted it walking down the bleachers while Land was practicing.”

Landon palms her ankle, rotating it, and then huffing when she winces. “It could be broken.”

“You’re doing it again. I’m fine. I just need to keep my weight off of it for a while.” Sophia reaches up and strokes the side of his face, and he instantly leans into her touch like he’s never felt anything so pleasurable in his life.

"Have you heard from Dad?" I break the tension because they’re staring at each other and unfortunately, I can’t dissolve into the floor. “He called me today.”

Sophia smiles, and I almost forget that I’m the only one who wants to run Dad over with his own truck at the moment. "He did? What did he say? Is he coming to the game tonight?" she asks excitedly, and that’s all it takes to make Landon jealous for absolutely zero reason.

Landon chimes in, though his voice carries a note of annoyance. “No, he’s not,” he assures her, and she gives him a perplexed look. She’s older than me, but she seems younger, more naïve. I truly don’t think she understands what Landon wants, maybe even needs from her, but that’s not my place to tell her. Landon directs his attention toward me when he asks, “What did he say when he called?”

“Not much. I hung up on him. He’s not the only one who can ignore people,” I say, and Sophia lets out a surprised sound, but it’s overshadowed by Landon’s sharp chuckle.

“You did not,” he snickers. “The old man is probably power-walking here on sheer rage.” He says it to be funny, and Sophia laughs, but my stomach sinks because I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t thought that if I pissed Dad off enough that he might become as unhinged as Ethan. I mean, the Hillcrest men are not exactly known for their bedside manner.

Sophia leans over and whispers something into Landon's ear, her words too low for me to hear. But whatever she says seems to ease the tension in his shoulders. With a soft sigh, he nods, his frown fading as he scoops Sophia up into his arms.

"We're heading out," he grumbles, not even bothering to say goodbye to me.

Sophia waves cheerfully, "Come by after the game, Liv," she calls out. "We can have a movie night."

I manage a small smile, my bitterness dissipating in the wake of Sophia's sweetness. "I will," I promise, watching as Landon carries Sophia out of the icehouse.

6

GRANT

Iwatch from my hidden vantage point outside the icehouse, my eyes fixed on the door. The air is cold, and the night is dark, but I can't afford to be seen. Not yet.

I met up with Landon earlier, and he assured me he’d stay behind to make sure everyone was out of the icehouse to ensure Olivia will be alone when I enter. I made it clear that he was not to tell Sophia what my plan was. As much as I’d love to see my other daughter, I can’t risk her tipping off Olivia.

Sophia and Landon emerge from the icehouse, and I realize he’s carrying her. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that Olivia must be alone in the arena now. My heart races with anticipation, and I can't help but feel annoyed that they stayed behind longer than they should have.

Landon stops just outside the icehouse, their voices hushed in conversation. Sophia appears distressed, her body language tense and at first, I think it’s because when he lets her slide down to touch the ground, she’s favoring one of her feet like it’s sore, but then I realize that it’s something else. I strain to hear their words, but the distance makes it impossible, and I’m still not willing to show myself and risk blowing my cover. I know she’s been having panic attacks since the attack, and that’s what appears to be happening now. Landon reaches into his hockey bag, retrieving a small bottle of pills. My eyes narrow as I watch this exchange.

He pushes Sophia to sit down on a nearby bench and holds her hands gently, his face filled with concern. She obediently takes one of the pills and washes it down with a swig from his water bottle. The sight of Landon taking care of her, his protective gestures, doesn't go unnoticed by me. His jaw clenches with tension, his worry for her evident in every move he makes. He runs his hand over the top of her head, allowing her long braid to slide through his hand. They don't notice me hiding in the shadows, and I continue to watch as they walk away together, wrapped up in their own world. I realize that Landon is more aware than I suspected when he looks over his shoulder and nods his head toward the icehouse as if he knows I’m nearby.

As they disappear, my thoughts return to Olivia. This is my chance. I can't afford to waste any more time. I push away from my hiding spot and make my way toward the entrance. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach the entrance to the arena. This is it. I'm about to see her again, to be near her. I can't help but wonder if she's thought of me during all these months. Has she touched herself, thinking of me? Even through the hurt and anger, has she thought of the night in the shed when I should have taken everything she was willing to give me?

I step through the door, and there she is, on the ice, her skating dress clinging to her figure and making my cock twitch and my mouth water. I want to slide my hands down her hourglass figure. I want to feel how perfectly her tits fit in my hands. I also want to rip it off of her body, bend her over and spank her ass for hanging up on me. I want to slide my fingers inside her pussy and feel how wet she gets when I punish her.

Olivia's movements are fluid as she glides across the ice. Her concentration is unwavering, and she's completely absorbed in her skating. The rhythmic sound of her blades against the ice is hypnotic, drawing me closer.

I watch her with a mix of longing, jealousy, and possessiveness. She's mine in every way that matters. I've allowed her to slip through my fingers once, but not again. My obsession with her has only deepened during our time apart, and now it's time to make her understand. How can she be so unbothered after having spoken to me for the first time in months? She doesn’t seem shaken, and that’s a problem for me. If she wants to be angry, fine, I deserve that. But this? Like I mean nothing to her after everything we shared. I’m fully aware that all of this is my fault, but I will not let her dismiss me or replace me. That will never happen.

She twirls gracefully, her arms extended, and I can't help but think about how those same arms wrapped around me, begged me to claim her as my own. I remember the sensation of her body pressed against mine, the heat of her skin against my own. The thought is intoxicating and something that I’ve tried to push away for so long, but now that I’m here looking at her, I realize that I can never live without it. Not even if we’re shunned by society. Not even if I’ve broken her to the point that she no longer wants me. Nothing matters to me anymore except for her, and I don’t care how long that takes to make her understand.

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