“Charlie, you always have another assignment. Throwing yourself into helping solve other people’s problems isn’t going to fix your own.” I know she’s right, but it’s been almost a month since I’ve been assigned a soldier, and I’ve been itching to get my mind off things by doing exactly what she said—ignoring my problems by dealing with someone else’s.

“It’s been weeks since I volunteered. And this guy sounds like he needs me. From what Cheryl told me, he almost died when a roadside bomb detonated. This one is going to take more time, which is why she asked me. Something about needing the right personality. He has broken bones in his spine and his arm, so he can’t drive and probably can’t do too much else. I’m supposed to be his ‘companion’ of sorts while his brother finishes his finals at UT,” I say, relaying the information the organization coordinator had given me.

She snickers. “His companion? Hmm, maybe you’ll luck out and he’ll look just like Channing Tatum in G.I. Joe. God, I love a man in uniform. Maybe I need to start volunteering, too.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I don’t do it to meet men, Lucy. And I have no interest in having a rebound right now.”

“Oh, come on. A roll in the hay with a hot soldier is just what you need to get over Drew and his use of the university’s custodial services.”

I roll my eyes and change the subject as my next appointment arrives. Not wanting to listen to Lucy continue to beg me to join her on Friday, I decide to end the phone call quickly. I give her a maybe, deciding that maybe I will get out finally. The more I stay shut in, the more Drew wins, so perhaps getting all dressed up and going out for drinks and dancing is just what I need.

I PULL up in my dad’s driveway several hours later, ready to get our Wednesday night dinner ritual over with. I’m in no mood to talk, and Dad’s always a chatterbox. He’s the only parent I’ve ever known, and he’s fulfilled both roles tenfold, but sometimes he can get a little overbearing. I understand it, because I feel the same way towards him. After my mom died in childbirth, it’s just been Dad and me. He rarely dated as he devoted all his time to me, trying his hardest not to make me a tomboy but a well-rounded kid.

He told me stories about how my mom had wanted to name me Charlotte Rose and he’d fought her every step of the way. He liked Charlotte, but he was opposed to flowery names. When the doctors came out and told him that she’d passed away due to immense blood loss, he couldn’t help but give me that name. However, from the moment I could talk, my daddy called me Charlie. Never Charlotte, never Rose. And definitely never Charlie Rose. The last thing I want is to be compared to an old guy on Sixty Minutes. Nope, I’m just plain old Charlie. And to be honest, I’ve always been okay with it. I was and always have been my daddy’s girl. Being a single parent in the Army, he had a hell of a time raising me, but he made it work. I was always loved, cherished, and protected. I’ll always love my dad for that.

Putting the car in park, I exit the vehicle and take a deep breath, knowing Dad’s going to want to talk about Drew. I think he’s equal parts pissed and disappointed that we were both fooled by his gentlemanly façade. He doesn’t know the full story, just that Drew did something to push me away. I scrounge up the courage to finally make my way to the door, and it swings wide before I can even knock. I’m instantly drawn up into strong arms as I throw my own around Dad, loving his warm embrace.

He draws back from me and brushes the lone bang out of my face. “Oh, Charlie, it’s been too long since you’ve visited your old man.”

I smile up at him, shaking my head at his ridiculousness. It’s only been a week since we had our last weekday meal and he knows it, but he still loves me enough to give me shit. We break our embrace and move towards the dining room, where he’s prepared an incredible spread.

If there’s one thing Wade Davenport learned as a single dad, it was how to cook. My mouth waters as the Carolina barbeque smell fills my nostrils. We both make ourselves pulled pork sandwiches, me passing on the coleslaw, all the while Dad chuckling at my constant refusal to put the stuff on my pork.

“Charlie… Drew called me the other night. He’s concerned about you and wanted to know how to reach you,” Dad tells me nonchalantly.

I gape at him, wondering if he’s gone crazy. “Umm, Dad, I have no desire to see Drew, hear from Drew, or to even speak his name.”

Sighing, he sets his fork down and looks at me. “You know, if you’d just tell me what happened, maybe I’d understand why you refuse to speak to him. Last I knew, everything was fine and you were planning a wedding. Then all of the sudden you’re calling, asking to borrow my truck so you could move out. Dammit, Charlie, what the hell did he do?”

My dad’s always been a very actively overprotective father, so when I caught Drew in his…compromising position, I had no desire to tell Dad about it. I knew at the time he’d fly off the handle, and all I wanted was to be moved out before Drew got back to the apartment. Fortunately, I’ve been able to stay with Lucy until I can come up with enough money for my own place. I’ve been living with her for two months now, and it’s taken some getting used to on both our parts. I know her lease is up soon, right before she goes home to work for her parents for the summer, so I’m going to have to figure something else out in the near future.

Knowing that I might as well finally tell him what happened, I take a drink of the beer he placed in front of me before answering him. “I caught him screwing the maid,” I blurt out, wincing at my bluntness.

The fork he picked up drops again and the sound clangs throughout the silent room. His hands brace the table as he scoots his chair back, his strong forearms flexing against the hard oak. He meets my gaze and his jaw clenches, twitching slightly in what I’m guessing is anger.

“You caught him doing what?” he asks gruffly, as if he didn’t hear me correctly the first time.

Toying with the beer bottle, I drop my eyes to the table before looking up to catch him watching me intently. “You heard me the first time. I walked in on him screwing another woman.”

“That son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him,” Dad seethes, rising out of his chair. I roll my eyes, having heard the same speech more times than I can count, starting when I was six and the brat next door ripped the heads off of my G.I. Joes.

His braces himself against the table with his fists, his eyebrow furrowing. “Wait… You don’t have a maid. I know you don’t because he was always complaining about how messy you are.”

Clarifying, I relay, with little detail, finding Drew with the woman from the custodial staff. I watch as his face turns red—again, not something new when it comes to the disasters of my love life.

I love my dad. We’re extremely close. But I think he’s been ready to marry me off since I graduated college. It’s his fatherly duty or something like that. Personally, I think he’s using my love life to keep from moving on with his. He’s dated on and off, but he claims he’s never been able to find anyone he loves as much as my mom.

For a long time, he wouldn’t talk much about her until one evening I found him in his office, clutching a glass of scotch in one hand and a photo of her in the other. He wasn’t crying, but I remember being confused by the pained expression in his eyes. I was only five, so the memories are hazy, but I recall watching him from the doorway before seeing one lone tear fall onto the photograph. I’d never seen him that emotional before, so I entered the room and crawled into his lap. Wiping his cheek with my small thumb, I plucked the picture out of his grasp and set it face down on the desk.

“Don’t look at things that make you sad, Daddy,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. At the time, I had no idea what I was saying, but it seemed to help. He held me close for a few moments while we sat in silence.