He heard the car pull up front, but didn't open his eyes. He knew his daughter had a thing for the man she'd gone out with tonight, and if the anger that he could feel as the car pulled up, was hers, then either her companion would not be in any shape to drive home, or she'd fly up the steps and into the door, head for her room and then the roof.
It was quite a few minutes before the car pulled away, and then a minute or two longer before he felt a breeze on his cheek sweeping in through the cracked door.
She was quiet and sly, he'd give her that, but their front door never was. It creaked as she pushed it shut, and he heard her inhale sharply and quietly.
But he still didn't move.
Her anger was gone now, but he still knew that she was hurting from whatever her date had done to her...date. He didn't like that word. Friend was more appropriate, easier to accept, but wasn't true. Not anymore.
He didn't hear her leave the room, and when the light next to him suddenly cut out, it took every ounce of will-power to keep his eyes from flying open. But he kept them closed with a sense of effort.
He felt her lean down, plant a kiss on his forehead.
"I love you Daddy, you're the greatest," she whispered before quietly slipping upstairs and to her room.
He opened his eyes, hate coating them.
He'd hurt her. That bastard that had taken her out this evening had hurt her.
He sighed, folding the paper that had been across his chest, dropping it onto the floor to the side of it. It was too late to properly dispose of it, and besides, he wasn't finished reading it.
But most importantly, he was worried about his daughter.
He could hear her, with senses amplified by fatherly love, upstairs, whimpering quietly as she pushed her window open and slipped out into the night onto the roof. Leaving his glasses on the table, he moved to the window, leaning against the side of it, angling himself so that he could see her profile against the night sky. She hugged her knees, crying quietly, but not in raking, painful sobs.
That bastard had hurt her. He knew it now, without a doubt. But there was nothing he could do.
She didn't want him to know, wanted to take care of it herself. If she'd wanted his help, she would have said something more then "I love you Daddy, you're the greatest."
He respected her decision to deal with this herself. He knew her, knew that if she needed help she'd never confess to it, but that she'd break down and tell him once it grew too much for her to bear. Besides, she was an adult now, he couldn't always be her protector, couldn't always be there to catch her when she fell, to stop the bad things from happening to her, or to go out and beat the snot out of whatever boy it was that had hurt her.
This time, he had to wait for her to tell him what had happened before he went and attacked her "date" for this evening.
He scowled at the word, but other words filled his mind instead.
I love you Daddy, you're the greatest.
He smiled, watching her as she wiped her eyes, resting her chin on her knees. She'd fall asleep out there, like she always did, but he couldn't help that. This time, though, he wouldn't go out and take her back to her room. He respected her decision not to tell him, and would act as if he had never known she was outside.
You're the greatest.
Even though she was his little girl, she'd grown up.
Daddy.
But not completely, not yet.