Page 18 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tightening my grip on his hand.

He nods, acknowledging but not dwelling. "Dad tried, at first. He really did. But he was never the same after she died. Started drinking more. Working less. By the time I was ten, Lou was practically raising me anyway."

Daniel's voice is steady, but I notice his free hand trembling slightly where it rests on his knee. This is costing him something to share.

"Then one day, I came home from school and found Dad packing a duffel bag. He said he needed some time away, that he was suffocating in Cedar Falls, where everything reminded him of Mom." His jaw tightens. "He promised he'd call soon, that it was just temporary. I believed him."

The river rushes past, indifferent to human pain. A group of teenagers walks by, laughing loudly about something on a phone screen. Life continuing all around us while Daniel opens a wound he clearly keeps bandaged.

"He left me with Lou and just... never came back. Called a few times the first year. Sent a birthday card or two. Then nothing." Daniel's voice has gone flat, as if he's reciting someone else's story. "Last I heard, he was in Arizona with a new family. That was about six years ago."

"Daniel..." I don't know what to say, how to respond to this revelation that explains so much about him—his independence,his fear of connection, his need to distinguish himself from his grandfather's shadow.

"It's fine," he says. "Lou was more of a father than he ever was anyway."

But I can see it's not fine in the way his shoulders have tensed, in the slight tremor that still runs through his free hand. I reach over and take that hand too, so I'm holding both of his in mine.

"It's not fine," I say quietly. "What he did was cruel. You deserved better."

Something in Daniel's facade cracks at that—just for a moment, but I see it. The hurt little boy beneath the successful doctor. The abandoned child who grew up determined never to need anyone too much.

"Yeah, well." He attempts a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It made me who I am."

"And who is that?" I ask gently.

He meets my gaze directly, something vulnerable and honest in his green eyes. "Someone who won't walk away from his child. Ever."

This time, I believe him. Despite everything—our brief history, the circumstances of our connection—I believe him absolutely.

"I know," I say, and I mean it.

We sit in silence for a moment, still holding hands, the weight of his confession settling between us. A cool breeze skims across the river, making me shiver slightly in my denim jacket.

"Are you cold?" Daniel asks, immediately alert. "We should head back."

"I'm okay," I assure him, but I don't resist when he stands, gently pulling me up with him. He doesn't let go of my hand as we startwalking back toward the heart of the festival, and I don't pull away.

"Thank you for telling me," I say as we navigate around a group of children chasing each other with sticky hands. "About your dad."

Daniel nods, his expression still guarded. "I don't talk about it much."

"I can tell." I squeeze his hand. "It helps me understand you better."

"Does it?" He glances at me, curious despite his discomfort.

"Mmm." I consider how to explain. "It makes sense now why you were so quick to promise involvement with the baby. Why you tensed up when I asked about telling your grandfather."

His step falters slightly. "How so?"

"You're determined to be different from your father. Better. And you're worried about disappointing the man who stepped up when your dad stepped out." I look up at him. "Am I wrong?"

Daniel stares at me, something like wonder in his expression. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"See through me so easily. We barely know each other."

I shrug, a little embarrassed by his intensity. "Like I said, librarian skill. Reading between the lines."

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