Beloved: A Henry Dawncraft Novel |boyxboy| Sequel to Lover for Pay

XXII - Warmth

Joyce was sitting alone in her bedroom. She was dressed in black jeans and a rusty orange shirt with the picture of a vintage video game character on the front. Her red hair was long and lain passed her trim shoulders, and as she stared down at her black slip-on shoes, she couldn't quite get rid of all the nerves building up inside her. As hard as she could, she was trying to hide just how nervous she was about meeting her father for what would feel like the first time in all her life. They'd been together when she was a baby, but she didn't remember a thing from back then, and now that he was free and out of prison - she was finally getting the opportunity to meet her father as a changed man.

In a way, she felt a little bad that she couldn't relate to her brothers London and Henry. Their memories of TJ were vivid and unfortunate, but that didn't mean she was going to meet her father as if he had a clean slate. When she was a little younger, London had told her everything there was to know about Travis J. Dawncraft, and not a lick of it had been good. If anything, she'd come to view him as a cruel man, but to know now that he was no longer the same person, she felt maybe she was going to have the chance to see him first as a new and improved version of his former self.

There was a gentle knock on her bedroom door then, and after a second, it opened to her brother Dorian. He wore black jeans as well, and a loose muscle t-shirt that showed off his arms. "Hey," he said, nearing her bed, "You alright?"

"Yeah," she wanted to convince herself, "I'm anxious to meet my dad, and by anxious, I mean in a good and bad way."

Taking a seat beside his younger half-sister, Dorian leaned back on his palms and looked up at the ceiling. "Feeling anxious isn't a bad thing," he let her know. "I felt the same way at first, but then quickly got over it and ended up punching him in the face. I kinda feel bad about doing it, but he doesn't give a shit that I did it. If he can get over me hitting him, I'm sure Travis can at least understand you feeling a little unsure. Hell, he'd probably let you hit him to let out some frustration too."

Joyce wrinkled her brow and looked up at her brother, "I don't think I could hit him," she said. In all honesty, Joyce was wondering how she was going to go about introducing herself, or would Travis introduce himself to her instead? She was likely a stranger to him as well, but he was probably more of a stranger to her. Aside from her eldest brother London and his husband Marbell, Joyce didn't know what it was like to have a father in her life. Actually, there had been times when she'd accidently called London "dad" in random situations.

She remembered back to when she was nine years old. After waking up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, she'd called out for London and asked him to sit with her until she felt brave enough to go to sleep again. Before he'd left her room, she called out to him to say thank you, but ended up saying, "Dad," instead of his name.

It'd been a little embarrassing, but she could tell London took the word to heart. He'd kissed her forehead and promised to always be there for her. So, in her own special way, it was like she'd grown up with a father in her life, and there would never be a time when she wished it was any different. She also believed she was who she was today, because of the family she'd grown up with. Having London, Marbell, Henry, her nieces and nephews in her life for the duration of her childhood had turned out to be wonderful.

Joyce looked up at Dorian with hope in her gaze. "Even though I'll be meeting my real dad for the first time, a part of me doesn't think I'll ever be able to view him as an actual dad. Does that sound weird?"

"I don't think so," Dorian answered, "If I had been raised by London and Marbell for nearly my whole life, I'm sure I'd look at them as more of a father figure than Travis any day."

With her mind traveling back to when she was a bit younger, Joyce fondly remembered all the constant good times she had with London in her life. The bedtime stories were entertaining, the tickle fights always made her laugh until she cried, when he or Marbell would play with her, and just the blatant kindness London and his husband always showered her in made her feel like the luckiest little girl in the universe. Sure, her mother had been a drug addict, and her father had been absent for the majority of her life, but Joyce would never feel like she had anything to complain about.