He's not my dad

part 24

The van was already packed, guitar cases stacked like puzzle pieces, duffel bags shoved wherever they fit. Stickers covered the back windows—bands I didn’t recognize, cities they dreamed of playing. The engine idled, a low hum that felt like a countdown.
Chuck stood in front of me, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, rocking slightly on his heels like he was trying to burn off nervous energy. His smile was there, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Greg stood a few feet away, pretending to check his phone, giving us space that felt intentional and strained at the same time. He looked different tonight—less CEO, more father. Still controlled, still composed, but softer around the edges.

“You’ve been quiet,” Chuck said finally, tilting his head as he studied me. “Like… quiet-quiet.”

I forced a smile. “I’m just tired. Long week.”
He didn’t buy it. I could tell by the way his eyes narrowed just slightly. “You sure that’s all?”

Before I could answer, one of the band guys shouted something crude from the van, earning a laugh. The moment cracked, but the feeling didn’t go away.

Chuck stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve been weird since the party. Since before that, actually.”

“I’m not weird,” I protested weakly.

He smiled gently. “You are. And it’s okay. I just want to know why.”

My heart thudded painfully. I glanced past him—just for a second—and caught Greg watching us. He looked away immediately, jaw tight, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Chuck noticed.

He followed my gaze, then looked back at me, something clicking behind his eyes.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

“Oh what?” I asked, too fast.
He exhaled through his nose, not angry—just thoughtful. “It’s my dad, isn’t it?”

“What?” I laughed nervously. “No. Chuck, don’t be ridiculous.”

He didn’t laugh back.
“Taylor,” he said softly, taking my hands in his. “I know him. And I know when something’s off around him. And I know you.”

My throat tightened. “Nothing’s happened. I swear, it's just awkward.”

“ yeah, it can't be easy dating your boss's son. I understand it being awkward,” he replied.
Before I could respond, Greg cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We should let them get on the road,” he said, voice steady but eyes flicking briefly to mine. “They’ve got a long drive.”

Chuck didn’t take his eyes off me. “Yeah. We do.

He pulled me into a hug, tighter than usual, like he was trying to memorize the feeling. I breathed him in—soap, leather, something uniquely him—and fought the sting behind my eyes.

“You’re coming to visit,” he murmured into my hair. “Promise.”

“I promise,” I said, even though I had no idea how that would work.

He kissed my forehead, then my lips—slow, deliberate, lingering. When he pulled back, he searched my face one last time.

“Don’t disappear on me,” he said quietly.

“I won’t,” I replied.

He nodded, stepping back toward the van. The band cheered, the door slammed shut, and just like that, Chuck was gone—driving off into a future that suddenly felt very far away.

Silence settled in his absence.
Greg stood beside me now, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him. He didn’t speak right away.

“He loves you,” he said eventually.