With a soft 'click' of the door, Gracie disappeared into the bathroom, and I became aware of the fact that I was in charge of Stevie by myself for the first time.

Panic flared even though there was no reason to be nervous. Stevie looked happy as could be in my arms, smiling, cooing, and not fussing at all. Plus, I knew Gracie would be done soon. She was only taking a shower for fuck's sake. She would be back in twenty minutes. Tops.

No, my fears had nothing to do with this particular moment.

It extended further into the future, our future, towards the unknown.

As I stared down at Stevie, taking in her big brown eyes and her sweet, dark curls, a lump formed in my throat. She looked like me. She looked like Lydia as well, which, in turn, made her look like Gracie. Between her momma's passing and my strained history with her auntie, our current situation felt messy as fuck, but, by some miracle, Stevie made our mess feel less like a mess and more like a blessing.

Emotion overtook me.

She was so small, so precious.

She was everything.

Yet, even now with my baby girl cradled against me, I didn't feel quite like a father yet. I loved Stevie simply because she was mine to love, but I had been absent from her life until recently. Stevie and I were strangers. I only knew her through Gracie's eyes.

More than anything, I was terrified of failing my little girl. I didn't want to be anything like Stephan Jones. A part of me hated how much Stevie's name reminded me of my dad's name. Lydia had insisted on naming our daughter 'Stevie,' though, after her mom's favorite singer, Stevie Nicks. At the time, my platoon and I were about to head out for a training exercise, and I didn't have time to argue on the phone.

Needless to say, I didn't want to turn into my dad, I wanted to become the very opposite of him, but I didn't know if it was possible.

Because of the way I grew up.

Because of the shit I saw during my time in the Marines.

Because of fucking Matty.

God, it still hurt to think of him.

I was so fucked up. Gracie didn't know the half of it. My demons were dark. I had kept them from her on purpose. Talking about the past was painful. Memories often felt like an open wound. Not to mention, Gracie was too soft, too kind. I didn't want to hurt her with my bullshit, which was why I chose to carry these burdens on my own.

Was I man enough to be a father, though?

What if I couldn't shoulder the pressures? The responsibilities?

I already struggled to handle my own problems.

I hated the sound of fireworks.

Thunder. Fucking despised that, too.

Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night, adrenaline pumping, drenched in cold, clammy sweat, trapped somewhere between nightmare and reality. It usually took me a few minutes to realize that I wasn't in a firefight in Helmand Province, that I was in my own bed in Phoenix.

Christ.

How could I take care of another human being? I could barely take care of myself.

Just then, Stevie burst into a fit of giggles, drawing me from my troubled thoughts for a short while. The sound of her happiness filled me with joy. I doubled down on my efforts to entertain my tiny princess, sticking out my tongue and puffing out my cheeks and humming like a mad man to the tune of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.'

She laughed some more, and I smiled back.

In this instance, we probably looked like a picture perfect snapshot of a father and daughter.

Looks were deceiving.

I guess it was possible to act like a normal, functioning parent for a few minutes. Hours. Even days. My dad always knew what to say to get the social workers off his back.

But my mom and I knew the truth.

We lived through the violence and rage hiding behind his aw-shucks smiles and easy excuses. We knew what he was really like behind closed doors. Just like I knew, deep down, I was still broken in a big way. Broken as a man. Unqualified to be a father.

As a father, the little things I had yet to learn about Stevie bothered me. I didn't even know the basic shit. Survival shit. I didn't know how to feed her, change her, bathe her, or take care of her on my own. It made me feel an embarrassing disconnect from my daughter.

Suddenly, Stevie started to cry for no apparent reason, and, for a few seconds, I simply froze. Panic struck again. I had no idea how to help her. It took a moment to get my ass in gear, to recover my composure, to remember to check her diaper.

She looked dry. Clean.

"Hey, hey," I crooned, trying to stay calm, stay in control, "you hungry?"

Stevie kept wailing. I assumed this was her way of saying 'yes.'

Picking her up carefully, I rose from the living room floor and headed to the kitchen. I held onto her with one arm and tried to make her a bottle using my free hand. Stevie's cries made me anxious, and I became a clumsy fuck. The bottle tipped over. Formula spilled everywhere.

"Oh, shit!" I cursed.

Stevie's wails kicked up a notch as I struggled to clean up the mess and restart her bottle.

All at once, I heard the bathroom door swing open and a light thump-thump-thump of footsteps running towards me. In the next second, Gracie appeared before us. There were still soap suds in her hair, a white towel was barely wrapped around her sweet little body, and water dripped all over the floor. Poor woman had clearly rushed out of her shower because of my incompetence.

I could feel the frantic energy radiating from Gracie as she stammered, "I-I heard Stevie screaming! Is everything okay out here?"

Stevie continued to cry over the literal milk I spilled.

With a sheepish grimace, I reassured her, "Yeah, yeah, don't worry, Stevie is fine. Everything is fine. I just, um... spilled some formula. Cleaning it up right now."

The corners of Gracie's mouth tilted up as she took in our sorry state.

Appearing much calmer now, she offered, "Why don't you give me Stevie so you can redo her bottle?"

I eyed the soapy bubbles in her hair. "You sure you don't wanna finish washing up first?"

"I'm good."

"Thanks," I grunted, "for coming to my rescue."

Gracie held out her arms with a smile. "Anytime."

I readily handed my daughter over to her. Stevie calmed down and stopped fussing once she was back with Gracie. However, Stevie also took this opportunity to yank at the edge of Gracie's towel, loosening the snugness of the tuck and wrap.

The terry cloth slipped from Gracie's body. It hung from her sweet, sexy form like a white flag of surrender.

My eyes went wide at the sight of her nakedness.

Gracie squeaked in horror as she tried to reach for her towel without dropping the baby.

Only Stevie seemed completely unbothered by the mishap she had caused with her grabby little hands.

Awkwardly, I turned around to give Gracie some privacy as she readjusted herself, but I'll be the first to admit that—

I might have caught an eyeful of her perky tits and pretty ass before looking away.

My cock started to stir even as I stood with my back to Gracie. I willed my hormones to chill the fuck out, but it wasn't easy. This wasn't some random pair of tits and ass, you know? This was Gracie we were talking about, and, God knows, I was still stupidly attracted to her.