Book#1 Chapter 1

I have been cautious my entire life. I planned down to the smallest little details even when I was a child.

I had to be prepared for everything.

I prepared checklists that I doubled checked. I went over my homework twice, sometime three times, before turning it in.

On testing days at school, I was always the last to turn in my paper. I needed to make certain I had written the correct answers.

It made my daddy crazy.

It drove me crazy too sometimes, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop.

I felt like something was wrong unless I followed my strict routine.

It also ran my friends crazy, but you didn't see them complaining when they scraped their knees, got cuts, and I was handing them a band-aid before they could even realize they needed one.

You again didn't see them complaining when it came down to studying for a major exam, and my notes were top tier and made sure we were always prepared for whatever could end up on those tests.

I knew from a very young age what I wanted to do with my life, and I made sure everything I did, every after-school program I attended, would help me achieve that goal.

When those scholarships flowed in the mail, I researched and read views on each one of them. My dad had to take off work to ride with me to those colleges because I needed to check them out. I demanded to make sure the scholarship I would be accepting was just the right match for me.

I received seven.

Seven scholarships.

It took me the entire summer to do my research until I decided on Clayton University. I spent weeks after making my checklist and checking off the things I would have to bring with me to college.

I studied for four years and received my accounting degree. Because I had a very strict routine to follow, I didn't have an opportunity to enjoy the normal college life. I didn't attend parties; I didn't pledge a sorority.

I didn't drink.

Not once.

I didn't hook up.

Not once.

It wasn't until my fourth year in college that I allowed myself to have a little fun, and by fun, I meant going on dates with a man named Paul.

Paul was sweet.

Paul was charming.

Paul was boring.

Paul was Paul, and I liked him.

We ended up staying together once we graduated from college. We moved back to my hometown because my father had found out he was sick with cancer. I got a position with the local pharmacy, and Paul struggled for a while, trying to find a job, until a law firm finally called him back.

Life was good.

Life was boring.

I just didn't realize it yet.

I went to work; I checked on my dad; I went home; I made dinner; I ate dinner, and then I went to bed.

It was the same thing every single day for a year until my daddy's cancer got worse, and they admitted him to the hospital. The doctor said so that they could keep him comfortable and not in pain.

In my heart, my daddy was always my superhero. He could do anything. Kiss my boo boos away, scare the closest monsters away, and keep the bad dreams away. In my head, I thought my daddy was strong enough to pull through, and the scary thing he needed to beat this time was cancer.

Only he wasn't.

And he didn't.

I stayed with him for a week, waiting for him to leave me. I didn't cry; I didn't whine; I didn't curse god for taking him from me. Instead, I watched TV with him. I talked with him, and he would tell stories about him and my mom when they were young.

My mom passed away when I was born. She lost too much blood. It had always been just me and my daddy.

As a single dad goes, he did his best.

He couldn't show me how to do girl things, like put on make – up and how to do my hair, but he did teach me how to catch a baseball, and he did teach me how to work on engine's.

Motorcycle engine's.

His motorcycle was his second baby, after me, of course. He loved to take me on long rides, just feeling the wind in our hair and the freedom it felt. He loved it until he could no longer ride, and now he just misses it.

On my first birthday, he got me a Harley Davison jacket and little leather boots. I'm told by him that I loved them and wanted to wear them every day. I obviously don't remember that, so I can't know whether he was exaggerating a little or not.

While in the hospital one Tuesday night, I didn't know I was having the last conversation with my daddy that I would in my life. I didn't know that he was going to make me promise something and that something was fixing to change my life.

“Baby girl,” my daddy whispered from the hospital bed, coughed and grabbed onto my hand that was lying on his chest.

“I'm here, Daddy," I replied, squeezing his hand to let him feel I was here.

“I need to you promise me something, pumpkin,” he said and opened his watery eyes, and they landed right on me.

“Anything,” I breathed, promised, and meant it. I would do anything he wanted if it would give him just a bit of peace before he had to leave me.

“I need you to stop being careful,” he notified me before continuing. “I need you to have fun. Do something crazy. Do something stupid. Make mistakes,” his words cut off as he coughed.

“I have fun,” I told him. “Me and Paul played a board game the other night, and that was fun.”

“That sounds boring,” he informed me and shook his head. “That's not fun, baby girl.”

It was fun. I even drank a few sips of wine and beat Paul at Monopoly.

“Daddy, I have plenty of fun,"I reminded him.

“No sweetie, you don't. You don't think I see how tired you are with your life when you walk through those doors after coming here from work? You don't think I see the repetitive, dull conversations you have with Paul on the phone while you're sitting next to me?” he shot back. “You're bored. You're not lively.”

“I am happy, Daddy. I like my job, and I cherish my boyfriend-,” I defended myself, but he shook his dead, causing my words to become nonexistent.

“Like and cherish," he snorted and kept talking. "Don't lie to me, baby, and most importantly, don't lie to yourself. You're not peaceful. You're not having fun. You're living. You're existing. That's not what I want your life to be. That's not what I want for you,” he insisted. “Promise me you will start living life. Promise me that you will do something crazy. Promise me that you will allow yourself to make mistakes. I need your promise, Riley, before I have to leave you. I need to know that you're going to be okay,” he hissed and shook as the heart monitor started peeping loudly, causing the doctor and the nurses to rush into the hospital room.

“I promise,” I shouted around the voices and the machines. “I promise daddy,” I murmured and allowed the tears that I had been holding back for days to fall down my cheeks as I watched them try to save my daddy.

I promise.