[COMPLETED]
Twenty-five-year old Gunner Shaw is a drug addict, and his girlfriend is hopelessly drowning in the sorrow of raising their daughter without his support. From one high to the next, and from one job to the next, it can only be so long unt...
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"And find a place where every single thing you see tells you to stay." S E E K E R . . February 8th 10:12 AM New York - - - - - - - - - -
"What do you want to do today, sweetheart?"
Leah pondered upon his question and stared down at her soggy cereal. "I want us to play princess."
Gunner had flashbacks of how hassling it was to frolic around his daughter room, garbed in all the pink ribbons and clips she owned as she walked him through her fantasy castle. His scalp itched just imagining her small fingers working each accessory into his hair. He tried, he really did, but he wasn't cut out for much of this fatherly business. He preferred observing from a distance. Engaging was a whole other playing field and he suspected good fathers wouldn't mind throwing tea-parties with their daughters—too bad he felt very differently.
"Why don't we do something else? Like, um, I don't know..." he trailed off, eyes reading her face for an answer. "What sorta stuff do girls like to do?"
"I already told you I want to play princess," her bell-like giggles lightening the atmosphere and his heart. "But I guess I could put nail polish on you today instead."
For a fraction of a second, his lips twitched downwards. Gunner quickly hid his grimace by looking down at his empty plate. "You're not doing my nails."
That was a sentence he never thought he'd ever have to say. The thought of walking around New York City with colored fingernails wasn't every man's ideal situation. Certainly not his.
"But it'll be fun. Don't you wanna look pretty like me?"
"You saying I'm not pretty?" he teased.
She simpered, "You're very pretty, daddy. But you can be even prettier."
"You can stay looking pretty, baby." He raised his shoulders in a half-shrug. "That's more of your gig, not mine. I'm just the dad."
Her exaggerated hmph wafted through the air as she slumped back in her chair. "Daddies can look pretty too."
"I'm sure they can and I'm sure you can make any daddy look pretty, but not me. I don't like having any of that stuff on my face or in my hair." Gunner's chair scratched the tiles as he stood to his full height, towering over Leah. "You done with breakfast?"
She pushed her plate away. "Yeah."
"Hey, don't be so pouty about it." He rounded the table, stopping to crouch in front of her. "We'll do something else. Promise."
Gunner gave her a kiss, one on each cheek. "How about a movie?"
It was like her expression was etched in a semi-permanent scowl. Her brows furrowed and forehead creased, but her lips struggled to remain fixed in a straight line. Gunner watched her fight her smile and it wouldn't be long before she'd toss disappointment out the window. Kids baffled him–how easily they could forget was a mystery he couldn't come close to solving.
