Yours to Keep, Daddy: MM taboo collection

Olise I stepped off the plane with my backpack slung over one shoulder and a knot in my stomach. Summer break. Three whole months back home. I should have been excited, but all I felt was dread mixed with something I couldn’t name. Mom had texted me last month: I got married! His name is Vincent. You’ll love him. No warning. No meeting beforehand. Just a new husband waiting for me at the house. The drive from the airport felt longer than usual. When the car pulled up to our two-story home overlooking the bay, I took a deep breath. The place looked the same , white walls, big windows, the garden Mom loved. But everything felt different. The front door opened before I could knock. And there he was. Vincent. He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered and solid, wearing a simple dark gray button-up with the sleeves rolled up. His dark hair had silver threads at the temples, and his jaw was sharp. But it was his eyes are warm brown and steady, that hit me first. “Olise,” he said, voice deep and smooth. A small smile touched his lips. “It’s good to finally meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time.” He stepped forward and pulled me into a quick, firm hug. His chest was solid against mine, and I caught the faint scent of his cologne , something clean and woody. My heart did a strange flip. I pulled back quickly, hoping he didn’t notice how warm my face felt. “Nice to meet you too, sir,” I mumbled. “Vincent,” he corrected gently. “No ‘sir’ in this house.” Mom appeared behind him, smiling brightly as she hugged me. “My baby’s home! Come inside. Vincent made dinner.” Dinner was surprisingly comfortable. Mom chattered about her latest work trip while Vincent listened quietly, occasionally asking me questions about college and my art. He seemed genuinely interested when I mentioned my digital illustrations and graphic design classes. “You have a good eye,” he said after I described one of my recent pieces. “I work as an architect. Maybe I can show you my studio sometime. Might give you some ideas.” I nodded, trying not to stare at the way his strong hands moved when he talked. There was something about him , calm, confident, masculine in a way that made my chest feel tight. I’d known I was gay since I was sixteen, but I’d never felt this kind of instant pull toward anyone. Especially not my new stepfather. After dinner, Mom excused herself early. “Jet lag is killing me. You boys get to know each other.” Vincent and I ended up on the back deck overlooking the bay. The sun was setting, painting the water in soft oranges and pinks. He handed me a cold soda and leaned against the railing. “So, Olise… how are you really feeling about all this?” he asked. “New stepdad showing up out of nowhere. Must be weird.” I shrugged, staring at the water. “It’s… different. Mom’s always been independent. I’m happy she’s happy.” He nodded slowly. “I care about her a lot. I know this is sudden for you. I’m not trying to replace anyone. I just want us to get along.” His voice was so sincere. I glanced at him and found him watching me with those steady eyes. My stomach did another flip. I looked away fast. “I’d like that,” I said quietly. We talked for almost an hour. About my classes, his latest building project downtown, how he met Mom on a work trip. He listened like he actually cared. When I mentioned struggling with a portfolio piece for my final project, he offered to help set up a workspace for me in the spare room. “You should have a proper studio,” he said. “Every artist needs good light and space.” By the time I went upstairs to my room, my head was spinning. I changed into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, then dropped onto the bed. The house was quiet except for the distant sound of waves. I couldn’t stop thinking about Vincent. The way his shirt stretched across his chest. The low rumble of his laugh. How safe and warm his hug had felt. A confusing heat spread through me. I pressed my face into the pillow, ashamed. He’s your stepdad, I reminded myself. Mom’s husband. Stop it. But the more I tried to push the thoughts away, the more they lingered. His smile. His calm presence. The way he looked at me like I mattered. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. This was ridiculous. I had a crush on my stepdaddy. A man more than twice my age. A man who was now family. Guilt twisted in my gut. Mom was happy. Vincent seemed kind. I couldn’t ruin that just because my stupid heart was acting up. Still, as I drifted off to sleep that night, it was Vincent’s deep voice and steady gaze that followed me into my dreams. The next morning, I woke up early and headed downstairs. Vincent was already in the kitchen, making coffee. He wore a fitted black t-shirt that showed off his strong arms and shoulders. When he smiled at me, something warm bloomed in my chest again. “Morning, Olise. Sleep well?” “Yeah,” I lied. “Thanks.” He slid a mug toward me. “I cleared out the spare room like I promised. Want to check it out after breakfast?” I nodded, trying to ignore how my pulse quickened. This was just normal stepdad stuff. Bonding. Nothing more. But as we walked upstairs together, his hand lightly brushing my shoulder to guide me, I knew I was lying to myself. I definitely had a crush on my stepdaddy. And I had no idea what to do about it.