All Chapters of Daddies Taste Better : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

THEA ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀Mrs. Harlan didn’t move, her steady gray eyes fixed on me as she waited patiently for my answer.I knew I could have told her to send my mother away. That I could have let Mrs. Harlan do what she did best—protect this house and everyone in it from unnecessary drama. But something stopped me. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or was it curiosity?Well, maybe it was the tiny, stupid, still-childish part of me that wanted to see if my mother had actually come to apologize, to explain, to be the mother I’d needed years ago instead of the one who kept showing up when it was convenient for her.I swallowed hard, the taste of old resentment bitter on my tongue.“It’s okay,” I said, voice quieter than I intended. “She can come in.”Mrs. Harlan’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Very well. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”With that she stepped aside, and my mother sailed past her like she’d been waiting for permission her whole life. The click of her sti

I opened my mouth to answer but the sound died in my throat when my mother moved.She stood up immediately, almost knocking the gift bag off in her haste. The box clattered against the cushion as she surged forward, coat flaring dramatically behind her like she was making an entrance in some low-budget soap opera drama. That bright performatic smile of hers snapping back into place as she rushed toward Gage with arms already outstretched.“Oh my God, thank you,” she gushed, her voice pitched nerve-rackingly high and grateful in that exaggerated way she used when she wanted someone to like her. “Thank you so much for taking care of my girl while she’s been going through… everything. I don’t know what she would’ve done without you.”She reached for him, her hands aiming for his arms like she was going to pull him into a hug or cling to him like some grateful damsel.But Gage stepped back smoothly, almost imperceptibly, his expression shifting from quiet concern to polite confusion in t

I shook my head against his neck, tears threatening again. “Please. Just… don’t stop.”He went still for a heartbeat. Then his arms tightened around me, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, the other pressing firm against the small of my back.“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered, lips brushing my temple as he kissed me again. I clutched tightly on his coat as I moaned into his mouth, his thigh sliding between mine, pressing up against me in a way that made heat flare low in my belly. I arched into it instinctively, seeking friction, seeking more, seeking anything that would drown out the questions still circling in my head.He broke the kiss long enough to drag his mouth down my jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below my ear. “You’re shaking,” he murmured against my throat, voice rough with concern and want. “Tell me what you need.”“You,” I gasped, fingers tugging at his coat, trying to get closer, trying to get under

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀I woke up slowly, the kind of slow that happens when your body has finally surrendered to exhaustion but your mind is still dragging its heels through the mud of the mess called your life. The room was dark except for the faint silver glow of the moon slipping through the gap in the curtains, painting thin stripes across the duvet. My cheek was pressed to Gage’s pillow, which still carried the warm, familiar trace of his shampoo and skin. For half a second, everything felt almost peaceful but when I reached out instinctively, my palm sliding across the cool sheet, searching for the solid heat of him beside me… I found nothing.The space where he should have been was empty. I sat up slowly, the duvet pooling around my waist, and blinked into the shadows. The clock on his nightstand glowed 2:47 a.m. in soft red digits.He wasn’t in his room but I knew exactly where he was.I slipped out of bed, bare feet meeting the cool hardwood. His tee hung loose on me, hem brush

She turned back to the coffee she’d been finishing, pouring the last of it into both mugs with that same careful precision she applied to everything, but her movements were slower now. “He was about your age when things went wrong between us,” she continued. “I thought I was doing what was best, working long hours, keeping the house running, making sure he had everything he needed, but I was gone too much, and when I was home I was tired, distracted, and short-tempered. He started pulling away in small ways at first and by the time I realized how far the distance had grown, it felt impossible to cross.”She set my mug in front of me, then slid her own black coffee closer to her side of the counter before continuing. “He left for university and never really came back. It did call but they became shorter, visits became rarer, and eventually they stopped altogether. The last time we spoke he told me he appreciated everything I’d done, but he needed space to figure out who he was without