Page 107 of The Daddy’s Girl

Climbing out of bed, I quickly dress and tell myself I’m only going for a walk to clear my head. I even tell myself my walk has no direction.

Naturally, the path my feet take me on leads directly to her bedroom window.

What the fuck am I doing?

I’m standing behind the Kades’ residence, staring up at the second-floor balcony where I know Amelia’s room sits. The beauty of being best friends with the owner is that I know the cameras placed around the perimeter of the house are mostly for show, and while he should get alerts on his phone when there’s movement on his property, he never properly set up the notifications. He’d have to know how to log into the app and find the video footage to ever see me standing out here like a stalker.

I should go home.

I should get some sleep and call her tomorrow like a sane man would.

But I can’t because she is right on the other side of that window, and I can’t bear the thought of putting more distance between us.

And while a phone call is much wiser than what I’m about to do, I stopped making smart decisions where Amelia is involved long ago.

So I walk up to the house and grip the drainpipe connected to the bricks. Giving it a harsh tug, I test the stability of it. It doesn’t budge.

I’m out of my mind. This would have been a feat for me twenty years ago. But now? Nearly impossible.

But I try it anyway.

Wrapping my fingers around the drain, I use the windowsill on the lower level as leverage as I start to climb. Next, I move my foot to the lip of the brick molding, which is just enough to hold the tip of my shoe. With another grunting hoist, I find myself halfway between the ground and the floor of her balcony.

Too far gone to turn back now.

My arms start to shake, and I’m reminded that my daily gym routine is yet another thing Amelia has disrupted in my life. The drainpipe creaks as I pull myself up another foot.

As my legs straighten, lifting me higher, I reach my hand up, and it’s enough to grasp the ledge of her balcony. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my fingers ache and my muscles shake, but I can almost see into her room, and it’s worth it.

Only problem now is…there’s not a good place to put my feet. Leaving me no other choice but to pull myself up with my arms.

I scrape my shoes against the wall, and a tremor quakes through my body as I hoist myself up, slowly and clumsily.

As I reach the balcony, finally able to relax against the banister, I look through the window and see Amelia sleeping peacefully in her bed. A smile rests gently on my lips as I watch her.

God has never created a more perfect creature.

And I want to do very ungodly things with her.

Slumping over the railing, I climb safely to her balcony door. My body sags in exhaustion as I tap gently on the glass. At first, she doesn’t move, and I’m reminded that Amelia sleeps like the dead.

And if I can’t wake her up, I’m in big trouble.

But then on the second tap, her eyes pop open. She jolts at first, and the vision of a man silhouetted in the moonlight on her balcony should probably have her screaming.

Instead, she sees my face, recognizing me immediately. And a grin blossoms wildly.

Throwing back the covers, she dashes across her room. As she opens her balcony door, she giggles, and it is music to my ears.

“Oh my God, Matis,” she whispers as she touches me to make sure I’m real. Then she glances behind me at the balcony. “How did you get up here?”

“I climbed,” I reply on a panting exhale.

Her jaw drops. “Why?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She laughs quietly again. Then she wraps her warm, soft fingers around my cheeks. Lifting to her tiptoes, she kisses me. As I bring my arms to her waist, I feel just how exhausted they are.