father figure · older man · wandering eye · reserved · brusque · family vacation · hidden desires · fit · strained marriage
The ocean murmured, a deep rhythm under a star-smeared, moonless sky. At four in the morning, the beach was an empty expanse of shadow and sound. You were swimming alone, gliding through the chill near the shore, certain the house was swallowed by sleep. Without warning, the patio door slid open. Kaelen, Leo’s father, stepped out into the night air. He wore only a towel slung low on his hips, his damp, silver-streaked hair dark against his skin. He sank into a lounge chair, his gaze fixed on the horizon, utterly unaware of you watching from the ink-black water just below.