When I was in college, I did my thesis on personality types based on the theories of various researchers and psychologists. It was the most interesting part of my studies because I believe that understanding students’ personality traits provides educators with a deeper understanding of cognitive styles, emotional regulation, and classroom behavior. The knowledge I gained within the study for that paper has helped me far beyond the classroom.
For instance, I’ve learned that my dad is a thinker. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel things. It means that every bit of information he takes in gets filtered through his brain before his heart.
Being a feeling person, I appreciate this type for a plethora of reasons. The first being this moment right here. The one where my dad uses logic to decipher the situation versus feelings.
“Duke here fixing those shutters?” My dad’s voice is deep and stern like it always is, sort of matching is brooding lumberjack exterior. Most people find him intimidating. I think it’s the long beard and the permanent scowl, though he’s really a very nice guy… to me anyway. “Sorry I didn’t get over here sooner.”
“Yeah, I think Charlotte heard me complaining and asked him to stop over. I didn’t even know he was coming.” I lean up and wrap my arms around my father’s shoulders. I’ve never been a good liar and my father knows that, though this isn’t a lie. I really didn’t know he was coming, and Charlotte did set up the appointment.
Dad nods and glances around the cabin before stepping into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I don’t know what it is with everyone wanting coffee at eight p.m. but it seems to be a popular thing to do tonight. “Weather’s real bad out there. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it up the mountain. They’re calling for four feet before morning. You have everything you need?”
My dad is the overprotective type. I think it’s because I’m his one and only, but also, I’m the only part of my mom he has left. For the most part, it’s a good thing. I feel really loved and very taken care of. On the other hand, there isn’t a piss I take without my dad knowing about it.
“Yeah,” I say glancing around the side window to see where the heck Duke has gone. The man is out there without a coat. It can’t be pleasant. “I, ugh, I stopped in town a few days ago for essentials. I was going to grab a few more things on my way to school tomorrow. You think the storm will hold out ‘til then?”
“Hard to say. You know how it is up here. They claim snowmageddon and then we get three inches and a little wind. Always best to be prepared, though.”
I nod and glance up as the front door cracks open and Duke steps inside, snow covering his hat.
“Out in this shit with no coat on. Why?” My dad laughs and tips back the cup of black coffee.
“I’d been out to fix them once already. I think something came loose. Should be good now. What are you doing here, old man?”
Duke and my father talk to each other like two brothers, which makes everything Duke and I were just doing that much worse.
A pang of guilt rumbles through me.God, what was I thinking?My dad is so good to me, and he’s so bad at making friends. Duke is the one person he’s let in since my mom died.
What kind of daughter screws around with her father’s best friend?A horrible, terrible skank, that’s who, though one glance back at Duke and I remember exactly what I was thinking… or rather feeling.
He rolls up the sleeves on his flannel, exposing dark ink and makes his way to the fireplace to throw on another log as my father returns the shit talk. “I was on my way home, saw your truck parked here, and wondered what happened. Thanks for getting the shutters fixed. I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now.”
“No worries,” Duke groans as he lifts another log into the wood-burning stove. “If I’d known they were giving her trouble, I’d have stopped sooner.”
“You’ve gotta keep me in the loop, Kit,” Dad says, turning back toward me. “You’re up here alone. That worries me.”
“Got it.” I go for another cup myself because I need to hide behind the mug again. “How’s everything over at the build site? Duke said the weather slowed things down a little today.”
“Wouldn’t have if materials were coming in on time. I’ve got all four guys over there on the job. Hoping to be done by March before the Wilder brothers roll into town. They’ve got some whiskey operation they’re working on or something.” Dad shrugs. “I don’t ask questions, just get the work done.”
Duke spends too much time at the fire. I swear he’s been poking the same log for ten minutes now. Finally, he stands and turns back toward us, guilt written all over his face.
“You alright? You look tired,” my dad asks as he grabs a cookie from the jar that’s still opened. He doesn’t suspect a thing. Probably because the concept never ran through his head. Probably because Duke is like family and the idea of the two of us ever being intimate is insane.
Insane! If it’s insane, then why do I want more?
Why do I wish we were back in the bedroom? Why do I wish he’d have been the one thrusting inside of me, the one touching me? Why do I want more? Why do Ineedmore?
My heart hammers as I take another long sip of the caffeine I don’t need.
“Well,” Duke groans, glancing toward me then my dad, “I should get moving if I’m going to beat this storm home.”
“Same here,” Dad says, taking another sip of his drink before setting the mug in the sink. “You sure you’re alright here tonight, sweetheart? I can stay over.”
An hour ago, I thought maybe Duke would be the one staying over. Now, I’m pretty sure I’m headed toward a night alone with a thousand thoughts running through my head.
“I think I’ll be okay,” I say, leaning in for a hug. “Thanks, though.”
“Yeah, I’ll clear the driveway for you on the way out. You call if you need anything.”
