All For You, Daddy

17 -William.

Grace's mother pushes the door open wider and allows me inside, my misery multiplying when I see they've already packed boxes, probably just in case I threw them out on the streets. Pictures of Grace at all stages of her life remain on the wall, however, shooting my heart up into my mouth.

We walk into a room at the back of the three-bedroom apartment and the woman points to a small twin bed in the corner of the room, a shelf built into the headboard, packed with books. Simple and small. Unworthy of my angel. I've never been so determined to lay the world at her feet.

"I doubt there is anything in here that will tell us where she's gone," says her mother. "There might be a clue in her diary, but it's locked."

I look over to find the woman turning a small book over in her hand—and I take it. Hesitating only a second before bashing the lock against the headboard and cracking the diary wide open. "Once a devil, always a devil," I mutter, letting the diary flip open to a page near the middle and...I see my name.

Entry 2.5 [Sunday]: William wore the navy-blue suit today. A red tie. He read the reports from our building manager right there on the sidewalk this time. And he looked so angry, so irritable, but I only see the loneliness underneath. He needs a friend. Sometimes I even dream of being his friend. Is that silly? There must be more to the landlord than meets the eye or my heart wouldn't pound every time he visits...

Pulse racing, I flip to another page.

Entry 2.7 [Tuesday]: I touched myself today and thought of William. Everyone else went to the movies, but I stayed home. I touched my n*****s and pretended it was him playing with me. I had to squeeze my thighs together to stop the ache and it wouldn't go away for the longest time. Maybe it never goes away...

When my c**k starts to thicken, I clear my throat and move on. Reluctantly. But I'll be reading that particular page again when Grace's mother isn't present, that's for goddamn sure. And...I'm in disbelief. Stunned. How long has my sweet girl been fascinated by me? Even...cared about me.

The dates in this diary go back a year. More.

My chest tightens to the point that I can barely draw a breath. The revelations in these pages are further pieces of proof that her heart was in the right place all along. The fact that I called her a liar and accused her of trying to use me...I deserve to die for saying that s**t to someone so pure. I don't deserve her back at all, this angel who loved me from afar while I went around hating the world.

God, I miss her so much.

With a weight pressing down on my lungs, I turn to the most recent entry.

Entry 2.8 [Wednesday]: The landlord came today. William. He's evicting us. My mother has asked me to seduce him in exchange for our debt being forgiven. I'm supposed to give him my body, but I already have. He's owned it for a long time. I might not understand the way he makes me feel in my breasts and inside my panties, but he's the only one who causes those tingling sensations, every time I watch him from across the street...

"Across the street?" I say urgently, lifting my head and looking out the window. "What's across the street?"

"Her favorite climbing tree..."

I'm already running from the room, the apartment, hurtling down the stairs with her diary still clutched in my hand.

"Grace," I shout, my voice as ravaged as my chest.

Several people come out of the buildings to see the commotion, cowering in fear when they see it's me, making an unscheduled visit. I swallow hard at their reaction, vowing to be better for Grace. Vowing to be the man she believed me to be when I didn't know I was capable of it.

When I see her feet dangling from the tree, relief like I've never known courses through me. But it leaves me in a rush when her tear-stained face comes into view. It hollows me out where I stand.

"Grace. I'm so sorry." My throat is closed up so tightly, I can barely get the words out. "Everything you taught me, I ruined in a minute. You made my world so beautiful and I turned it ugly again. Everything I said was wrong. I was wrong."

She says nothing, moisture spilling down her cheeks. Slaying me.

I go down on my knees, vaguely aware of the gasps carrying up and down the block. "Give me another chance, angel." And she does look like an ethereal being in that moment, with sunlight pouring through the branches and illuminating her from behind. "What do you want? Family dinners? Block parties? I'll run for f*****g mayor if it makes you believe in me again. Makes you believe how much I've changed for you. Just don't leave me. God, please, don't leave me now."

My head is bowed, so I don't realize she's climbed down from the tree until she's kneeling in front of me, too. "Is that my diary?" she whispers.

It takes all of my willpower not to wrap her in a bear hug, but I don't know if she's forgiven me or not. "Yes."

Her cheeks turn pink. "Did you read it?"

"A few pages." My tone is hoarse. "Enough to know you believed in me before we even met. Christ, baby. I don't deserve that kind of confidence. Or your love. But if you forgive me, I'll spend my life trying to be worthy. I'll do everything in my power to be the man you see inside."

She lays a hand against my cheek and I break, falling against her, gathering her up into my lap right there on the sidewalk, exhaling roughly into her neck. "You already are," she whispers. "I love you. Every version. Start to finish."

Her words rob me of fear and tension, loosening my muscles in a snap, and then my mouth is on hers, kissing her with every ounce of feeling inside of me. "Thank God," I rasp against her lips. "I love you so much, Grace."

And on the drive home, while bucking inside of her, I place my mouth on top of her ear and list all the ways I plan to make her happy...and I do. But only a fraction as happy as my angel makes me just by existing.