Chapter Text
There are a lot of things nobody tells you when you’re a kid.
Like how your dad can be a superhero and still get his heart broken.
Or how sometimes you have to be the one to protect him, even when you’re the one in a wheelchair and he’s the one running into burning buildings.
It’s not supposed to be my job, I know that. Dad says it all the time — that it’s his job to take care of me, not the other way around.
But if you’ve ever seen my dad smile — really smile — you’d understand why I had to make the list.
Because the truth is, my dad deserves someone who’s worthy of that smile.
Someone who knows how rare and important it is.
Someone who deserves him.
Not just anybody gets to be in our family. Not anymore.
So… I made a list.
Ten rules.
Ten simple rules for dating my dad.
You’d think grown-ups would know this stuff already, but apparently not.
And believe me — I’ve seen enough of Dad’s mistakes to know exactly what not to do.
(And yeah, some of them were mistakes so big, I think even he would agree.)
But there’s one person who didn’t just meet the rules — he crushed them.
Like it wasn’t even hard.
Like maybe he was made for us all along.
(But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.)
Rule #1: Don’t Lie to My Dad.
You’d think this would be obvious, right?
If you like someone, you tell them the truth. Easy.
Apparently, it’s not that easy.
The first time I learned about lying and love was because of my mom, Shannon.
She was also the first person who broke my dad’s heart so badly, I thought it might never get put back together.
I was little back then — smaller than I am now — but even then, I could tell something wasn’t right.
Dad would talk to her with this soft voice he never used with anyone else.
Hopeful. Careful. Like maybe if he said the wrong thing, she’d disappear.
And sometimes, she kind of did.
Not physically.
But you could feel it in the room, you know? That distance that wasn’t there before.
She would promise she was coming back. Promise she would stay.
Promise she wanted to be part of our family again.
And Dad would believe her. Every time.
Even when she didn’t show up for dinner.
Even when she missed my school recital.
Even when she packed a bag and left while Dad was working a shift.
He believed her because he loved her.
And because he wanted it to be true so badly, he didn’t see the lies for what they were.
I saw them.
Even back then.
I remember sitting on the couch, clutching my stuffed dinosaur, listening to them fight in the kitchen one night.
Her voice sharp, his voice low and begging.
I remember thinking: “She’s lying. Why can’t he hear it?”
But that’s the thing about love.
It makes you deaf to lies when you want them to be the truth.
It wasn’t just mom, either.
Some of the people Dad dated later weren’t much better.
There was one woman — I can’t remember her name now — who told him she loved kids.
Said she couldn’t wait to be part of our lives.
Then, two weeks later, she told him it was “too much responsibility.”
That she “wasn’t ready” for all of it.
She said it like we were some burden.
Like loving my dad meant carrying a heavy box she didn’t want to lift anymore.
That night, I sat next to Dad on the porch while he stared out at the street in front of our house and said nothing.
He didn’t cry.
Not in front of me.
But I could see the way he was holding himself together, like if he blinked too hard, he’d fall apart.
And I made a decision right then.
If you lie to my dad, you don’t get to be in our family.
No second chances.
No “well, maybe they meant well.”
Nope.
No liars allowed.
You tell him you’re staying? You stay.
You tell him you’re in it for the long haul? You show up — for every part of it.
You tell him you love him? You prove it.
Anything less…
You’re out.
Simple as that.
And before you ask — yeah.
Of course Buck passes this one.
(But we’ll get to him later.)