When she needed help with school projects, he stayed up late.
When she was sick, he brought soup and checked her temperature.
When her first school dance left her nervous, he waited outside until she was ready to come home.
Yet he never once introduced himself as her father.
I believed he was respecting her relationship with Ryan.
I hadn’t realized that his caution had gradually become fear.
After dinner that Tuesday, Travis disappeared into his warehouse, claiming he needed to check inventory.
I went upstairs and knocked on Kaylee’s bedroom door.
“Come in.”
She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling fan.
I sat beside her.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
“Good. Because I don’t.”
I waited.
Eventually, she spoke.
“He’s not wrong, Mom.”
“About what?”
“He isn’t my biological dad.”
I reached for her hand.
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t family.”
She stared at the ceiling.
