More Than Just Her Stepfather

Naomi

I remembered the day Rip walked into my life. I was 11 years old, dressed in a bright blue summer dress that I hated. I had a bad attitude, loathed everyone, especially my mother, and I was such an introvert, I was sure that no one knew I existed. Not even my mother most days. But from day one, Rip had. He made my life better. He made me smile. To him, I was everything. I wasn't just some loser kid that was irrelevant to him.

I was Daddy’s little princess. I was the perfect little angel. I was his daughter. I was his. He never looked down on me for belonging to someone else. The minute my mother introduced us, he embraced me like I was his own. He never, not even once, treated me like a stepdaughter. He always did everything with me, even all those things that my mother should have been doing.

He came to my band concerts, took me to daughter-daddy dances, and came to all of my parent-teacher conferences. When I did something, we would talk about it, and then he would give me a punishment. He made mistakes, but then again what parent was perfect? All in all, he was the perfect parent. At least for me. And God knew I needed one, because my mother definitely couldn’t be considered one. She was never around, and when she was, I was treated like the unwanted, ugly, red-headed stepchild that ruined her life.

I learned at a very young age to stay out of her way and keep my head down or I would be walked over. Trampled on even. She didn’t care. Not in the slightest. Her tongue was as sharp and eager as her hand was. I was to be seen, but not heard. That was the only thing she wanted from me. But Rip Davis? He cared. He always had.

And that was why the day I turned 18, I decided to seek him out. The way he left hurt more than anything else I had ever experienced. When he walked into my bedroom two years ago and sat on the edge of my bed with his hands clasped between his knees, I knew that something was very wrong. I just hadn’t realized just how bad things really were. The moment he told me that him and my mother were getting a divorce, my entire world had shattered. Colors dulled. Happiness had become nothing but a distant memory. I had begged and pleaded with both of them for him to stay, but he hadn’t.

I remembered their fight that night, when he tried to ask my mother to turn over custody of me to him. He told her that he would give her more alimony if she let him have me, but she had downright refused, and so he had packed his bags and stood in front of the door with me in his arms, crying with me as my sobs echoed in the small entryway. He apologized for failing me, and repeatedly told me that he tried to fix things with my mother.

He didn't need to tell me that. I knew. I heard them fighting all the time over me. He was trying to get her to step up and be a mother to me, but she always retorted that we were too close. That I was too dependent on him. But how could I not when he was the only person in this world that loved me? He did everything for me that my mother should have done. He helped me with my homework, taught me how to drive, and how to stick up for myself when a man didn’t treat me like I was a lady worth everything.

After he was forced to leave, my mother tried to undo all his teachings. She tried to get me to do more than just date boys. Well, they weren’t exactly boys. When I refused, she would storm into my room and beat me with a belt. After the first night, I would sneak out and go to the neighbor’s house. Rip had made the couple next door aware of what a shitty parent my mother was, and they promised to look after me after he left. He had found a way to make sure that I was protected, even though he wasn’t there.

And that was why I found myself sitting across from him in a dimly lit bar seven months after my 18th birthday, completely unseen as he tossed back drink after drink. It had been a long journey to find him, and I had only done so by pure accident. A college friend of mine, Riley, had invited me out to watch his band play at a local bar. I knew that Riley was interested in me, but I wasn’t sure about him at all. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he was a sweet boy. Very gentlemanly. Exactly the kind of boy that Rip always told me to find, but something was holding me back, and I always wondered what it was. Maybe it was because I didn’t have Rip’s approval. Maybe it was because I was still reeling from the loss of my favorite person. I didn’t know, but I was going to find out.

“Rip?” I called softly, and his attention finally turned toward me, his deep, haunted blue eyes searching my face curiously before he leaned toward me.

“Do I know you?” he slurred as his alcohol filled breath slapped me in the face.

I couldn’t help but stare at him in shock. How could he not recognize me? I didn’t look that much different than when he left, did I? Granted I had filled out late and my hair was a short mess of rainbow colors, and my face had thinned out a lot from the chubbiness he probably remembered, but when I looked in the mirror, I still recognized me. I still saw the scared little girl who waited for him to walk through the door every single day.

“Rip, it’s Naomi,” I whispered.

His eyes lit up and he gave a humourless laugh. “Naomi! Yeah, right! I’m not interested. Get lost!”

His words stung my heart worse than a hundred simultaneous bumble bee stings. Tears filled my eyes as I recoiled against the back of the booth.

“You don’t remember me?” I whimpered.

He slammed his hand down on the table. “THIS ISN’T FAIR! GET AWAY FROM ME!” he yelled angrily before struggling to climb to his feet to stumble away, bumping into people on his way out.

I sniffled as I wiped a tear away. He didn’t want to see me. Mom was right. He hadn’t really loved me. I climbed defeatedly back to my feet, intending to go back to the concert when I heard a loud thud. I spun around before hurrying toward the door where Rip was desperately trying to get up from the floor. I reached down to pull him up, almost falling on top of him as I did so. When I finally got him back on his feet, I shifted on my feet nervously.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” I told him quietly. “But will you please let me take you home. You shouldn’t be driving like this.”

He reached out and when I took a step back, he grabbed my wrist to pull me against his body. I fell against his chest, crying out a little as my body perfectly aligned with his. I tipped my head back to ask him to let me go, but he pressed his lips against mine, and when I gasped, he thrust his tongue into my mouth, kissing me passionately. His tongue slid over mine, encouraging mine to tangle with his as he eagerly explored every inch of my mouth. My eyes drifted closed as his hands moved down my body, tracing my curves before cupping my ass, lifting me up a little before letting me slide back down his body. I hesitated before letting my hands wander up his chest, stroking over his muscular body. The entire time he was ravishing my mouth and massaging my ass, my stomach fluttered, almost matching the rhythm of his hands. When I moaned into his mouth, he continued to kiss me for a moment before pulling back.

“If you wanted to go home with me, all you had to do was ask, beautiful,” he slurred, his unfocused eyes moving over my face.

I swallowed hard as I brought my hand up to press three fingers against my lips. I was saving all of my first for the right man, because that was what he taught me. But he had just taken my first kiss, and I was a little shocked that I liked it so much…