I didn’t plan it out, but once I grabbed my father’s keys and jammed them in the ignition, I knew exactly what I was doing.

Where I was going.

Hawkin’s cabin.

Finally. Finally, I am going after what I want. Not letting the words of my mama echo in my heart.

You ain’t worth nothing, child.

Hawkin always said I was special. He said I was good and kind and smart.

And all I’ve ever wanted is for him to protect me.

Now I’m being ushered inside by the man I’ve been wanting for years.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve looked for excuses to be around Hawkin.

I didn’t need an excuse tonight.

My father crossed the line for the last time.

My body may be bruised and swollen from his fists, but my heart still beats for the man who stands before me.

“Here,” Hawkin says, reaching for a quilt on the back of his couch. “You’re frozen, Heaven.”

He places it around my shoulders, and a shiver runs up and down my spine. I meet his eyes, wanting to know if he feels it too. He must.

“Thank you,” I say quietly following him over to the fireplace.

“I’ve got to take these slippers off, Heaven, or your toes will freeze.”

He kneels down before me, and I feel my core tighten as he looks up at me. I know my nightie is sheer, but at least I’m wearing a robe. When I left the house, I hadn’t thought of it. I only thought of one thing: leaving.

But now that I’m here with Hawkin and his deep hungry eyes looking at me, I’m glad I didn’t pull on jeans and a sweater before I ran from the run-down house.

“Damn,” he says, shaking his head and fixing his gaze at my feet. It’s like he doesn’t want to look me over the way I want him to.

He sets my slippers on the ground in front of the roaring fire and then runs his hand over his neck as if thinking hard.

“You hungry?” he asks.

I shake my head. I couldn’t eat right now.

“I’m gonna make you some hot cocoa, alright?”

I nod, following him into the kitchen. The cabin is small and tidy, and the narrow kitchen barely fits the two of us.

He puts on a kettle of water with his back turned toward me. Without his eyes on me, I look him over without fear of being seen. He’s in tight jeans and they are hugging his ass so perfectly. The flannel shirt he wears is half unbuttoned and rolled up at the shirt sleeves. His big muscular biceps pull at the fabric and cause me to pull in a deep breath.

“You okay?” he asks turning to me.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

He adds marshmallows to the cocoa and tells me to come over to the couch and sit.

“Like a good girl,” I tell him, raising an eyebrow. This is the role I want, to be his baby girl, so he’ll have to take good care of me.

My body hums to life at the thought.

He clears his throat, not even looking at me as he moves past me into the living room.

He sets the cocoa on the coffee table and then grabs a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He pours himself a few inches of the rich amber liquid and I lick my lips. I bet a shot of that would warm me up better than this cocoa.

“Can I have some?” I ask.

Hawkin frowns. “I’m not serving a minor alcohol.”

“It’s legal in lots of places for eighteen-year-olds to drink.” I blow gently on my steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“When did you turn eighteen?” he asks brusquely.

“Last week.”

He drinks his whiskey, not looking at me. Finally, he speaks. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

“Not really. I turned in my mid-term paper and worked at the diner.”

“You a senior in high school now?”

I nod. “I do my work, but I can’t wait for it to be over. The girls at school, they are thinking of all the wrong things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Silly boys who don’t treat them well, taking selfies, and posting them with captions meant to lure these boys closer.”

“You don’t want those boys though?”

A smile reveals my true thoughts on the matter. “No, I certainly do not want those boys, Hawkin. I have my sights on other things.” I lick my lips and look him over. I didn’t come up here to be turned away.

I know exactly what I want.

Who I want.

Hawkin coughs and presses his fist to his chest. “So then, what are your plans after school?”

The quilt slips from my shoulders, and before I reach to pull it back, I see Hawkin’s eyes on my skin. I love the way it feels when he looks at me. I keep the quilt where it is, fallen to the side.

“I don’t have any plans. I like being at home, cooking and cleaning. Just not my father’s house.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought a girl like you would want to leave this sleepy town. Go to a big city or go to college.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t want that at all. I want to be a mom. I want to be a wife. I want to take care of people. Just not--”

“Not what?”

“Not my father.”

Hawkin’s eyes narrow. “What did he do?”

“This time?” I ask, my shoulders drooping, memories of the night… of so many other nights filling my mind.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just… I want…”

“What?”

“I want to be here with you. I feel safe in this cabin. That’s why I came.”

“You running away from home? Because that won’t work. I’m not your father,” Hawkin says.

I lick my lips. Wishing I could say out loud what I’m thinking.

I know you’re not my father, but you could be my daddy.