Step Dad Stories Novels & Stories

“No! Not like that. He is not… I mean, he is older but not a dad. Well, technically he is a step… I mean, he has experience with family stuff. Forget that. He is just really mature.” Sarah burst out laughing. “You almost said step something! Emelia, are you dating someone’s stepdad? That would be wild!” “No, no, no!” Emelia said quickly, her voice a little too high. She forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “I meant he has step… stepping stones in his career. Big career. Very professional. You are reading too much into it. My brain is fried from being home.” Sarah was still giggling. “You are so bad at lying. Your face is bright red. Come on, tell me the truth. Is he married? Is that the dr

"Whether he mistreats her or not isn't proven by what he says. It's proven by what he has done over the last five years." That person froze. The entire office fell dead silent. The teacher looked at me as if she wanted to ask me something, but she ultimately kept it to herself and placed my withdrawal application at the corner of her desk. I turned on my heel and left the office. The school corridor stretched out ahead of me. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, creating a checkered pattern of light and dark across the linoleum floor. When I walked past the Wall of Fame, I caught the photograph prominently displayed in the center. My father, Ian Smith, stood to one side while his stepso

she asked. I ran my hand through my hair as more thoughts crossed through my mind. “Maya, you are not part of your grandfather's will; your father says you are a bastard and your mom was a whore he spent just 1 night with." That was my father’s lawyer, a message from prison. Dad now calls himself my stepdad. All my life, it's been one sad tale or another; someone is always walking out the door, and no one looks back to know how I feel.

"Honey, I know the loss of your loved ones has hit you hard, but you need to take good care of yourself, too. We still have Billy. If something happens to you, too, what will Billy and I do?" Every time he tricked me into drinking it, I would hear Dad's voice. But the so-called "predictions" from Dad? It was all just Felix—no, Malcolm—messing with my head, deliberately trying to make me believe that something supernatural had happened. Dad, Asher, Jasper, even Billy—they had all died at Malcolm's hands. He had murdered them all! I had already pieced all this together in my previous life. And I'd already called the cops after Billy died as well.

"Yeah, it was a real learning curve. But, you know, it was worth it. Emily's a great kid, and I'm proud of her." As we continued to chat, Jack shared more stories about his experiences as a single dad. He told me about the time he accidentally superglued his shoes to the floor during a parent-teacher conference, and the time he tried to make Emily's favorite dinner (mac and cheese) and ended up setting off the fire alarm. I was laughing so hard that my sides hurt. Jack was a great storyteller, and his self-deprecating humor was infectious. As we finished up our coffee and said our goodbyes, I turned to Jack and said, "You know, I'm really glad we're friends. You're one of the most entertaini

she declared, clapping her hands like she'd just won the lottery. I stepped out of the car in front of Dad's office building. The massive Adriano Estates sign loomed above. Typical Dad—everything about him screamed opulence. Walking through the front doors, I was greeted with smiles and nods from familiar faces. Dad's office had always been a second home for Mom and me. On slow days, we'd come here just to pester him, our antics turning his workday into our entertainment. Twenty-four years later, nothing had changed. "Hello, handsome," I greeted Harry, Dad's ever-loyal secretary, with a playful smile.

I walk into my office and find Dad already there waiting for me, I look at the clock and it’s 7:55am and I shake my head, he was always like this, early for everything, except for Momma, but I guess he was early for her too, it’s the one story he doesn’t like about there story, she was even younger than he thought, but that’s his story not mine. I sit at my desk and look at him as I sip my coffee, “so where to start?”

"Rina is still going through her treatment overseas. Nothing has happened to her. But the statue she gave me was destroyed. It's all my fault. I'm not a good father." He patted his assistant's shoulder and sighed with a troubled look on his face. "Have the pieces of the statue been made into flower pots?" "T-They're already inside the kiln… But it's not fired up yet. I got them to stop at the last minute." The assistant looked increasingly fearful. He knew exactly what was happening. For a patient with manic depression like my father, such a sudden change in his emotions could only mean one thing. My father smiled. "I see. Let's finish the wedding first."