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Chapter 66
publish date:
2026-05-29 18:51:07
Latest chapter
My Boyfriend's Dad? Chapter 78
LauraDecember turns into January.The cold deepens. The dark holds on. The world sleeps under a blanket of frost and silence. The garden is a ghost of what it was. The roses are nothing but stems. The oak tree stands bare against the grey sky, its branches like bones, like fingers, like the hands of someone reaching for something they cannot name.I turn twenty-one.Damon makes me breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Coffee. The same thing every morning. But different today. Today there is a candle in the toast. A single candle. Blue. The flame flickers in the cold kitchen air."Make a wish," he says.I look at the candle.I look at him.I close my eyes.I do not make a wish.I make a choice.I choose this.I choose him.I choose the garden and the bench and the oak tree and the roses that will come back.I choose the cold and the dark and the winter and the waiting.I choose all of it.The good and the bad.The beautiful and the broken.The blooming and the dying.I choose.I open my eyes.I blo
My Boyfriend's Dad? Chapter 77
LauraNovember is the month of holding on.The roses are gone. All of them. The red and pink and white and yellow. The ones Rick planted. The ones Damon and I planted together. The ones that bloomed all summer like they were trying to prove something. Gone. Just stems now. Just thorns. Just the memory of color.The oak tree holds on.It always holds on longer than the others. Longer than the maples. Longer than the birches. Longer than the roses. The oak tree stands in the center of the garden with its leaves turned brown and gold and copper, rattling in the wind like a warning.Winter is coming.Not metaphorically. Literally. The cold is coming. The dark is coming. The days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer and the world is getting ready to sleep.I am not ready to sleep.I am not ready for the dark.But the dark is coming anyway.That is the thing about November.It does not ask for permission.---Damon notices.He notices everything now. Not in the way he used
My Boyfriend's Dad? Chapter 76
LauraOctober arrives like a held breath finally released.The air shifts. The heat breaks. The world exhales. The leaves turn from green to gold to red to brown. The garden changes. The roses fade. The oak tree holds onto its leaves longer than the others, stubborn and proud, like it is trying to prove something.I am still not in school.The semester off stretches in front of me like a road without a map. No destination. No timeline. Just the road itself. Just the act of moving.Some days I feel free.Some days I feel lost.Most days I feel both.---Damon is in the study.He is always in the study now. Not because he is working. Because he is writing. The blue notebook is never far from his hand. He writes in the morning. He writes in the afternoon. He writes late at night when he thinks I am asleep.I do not ask what he is writing.He will tell me when he is ready.That is the deal we have made. Not out loud. Not with words. With silence. With trust. With the kind of patience that
My Boyfriend's Dad? Chapter 75
LauraThe thing about August is that it tricks you.July is honest. July is hot and loud and demanding. July does not pretend to be anything other than what it is. But August is different. August is the month that pretends summer will last forever. August is the month that gives you warm nights and golden light and the kind of air that feels like a hug. August is the month that lies.Because September is coming.September is always coming.And September means change.---I feel it in my bones.The shift. The turning. The way the light changes from gold to amber to something softer. The way the mornings get cooler. The way the roses start to look tired, like they have been blooming for so long they forgot how to stop.I am twenty years old.Twenty is not old. Twenty is young. Twenty is supposed to be about possibilities and futures and the kind of decisions that feel huge in the moment and meaningless in hindsight.But twenty is also the age when you realize that time does not wait.Ti
My Boyfriend's Dad? Chapter 74
LauraThe thing about healing is that it is not a straight line.I thought it would be. When I was younger. When I was sitting in my room after Sam died, staring at the wall, waiting for the pain to stop. I thought it would be like a road. You start here, you end there, and in between is just the business of moving forward.But it is not a road.It is a garden.Some things grow. Some things die. Some things take years to bloom. Some things bloom overnight and then wither in the sun. Some things you plant on purpose. Some things show up on their own, seeds carried by wind or birds or the hem of someone's pants.You cannot control it.You can only tend it.You can only show up every day with water and soil and hope.And even then, sometimes things die.And even then, sometimes things grow where you least expect them.---Spring turns into summer.The roses are everywhere. Red and pink and white and yellow. The new white ones Rick planted are still small. Still learning how to be roses.
My Boyfriend's Dad? Chapter 73
LauraI pick him up at the airport on a Friday.The sky is that particular shade of grey that isn't quite rain and isn't quite sun. The kind of grey that means maybe. Maybe it will clear. Maybe it will pour. Maybe both. The kind of grey that doesn't commit to anything.I stand at the arrivals gate with my hands in my pockets.Damon is in the car. He said he would wait. He said Rick might need space. He said it in that careful way he has now. The way that means he has thought about every possible outcome and is trying to prepare for all of them.I told him to stop thinking so much.He said that was like telling the rain to stop falling.I said the rain has a purpose.He said exactly.I did not have a response to that. So I kissed him and got out of the car and walked to the gate and now I am standing here with my hands in my pockets and my heart in my throat.---The doors open.People come out.Families. Businessmen. A woman carrying a baby and a diaper bag and a look of exhaustion th
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