Daddy's Girl: Raised To Please Him

Chapter 20

The smell of pine and fresh air was a stark contrast to the tight knot in Sydney's stomach. The campsite was a sprawling field of tents and rustic wooden cabins, surrounded by thick woods. It was supposed to be a bonding experience—an escape from the usual grind. A simple team-building trip. Yet, for Sydney, it felt more like a gauntlet of unspoken truths and simmering emotions.

Her mother had insisted she attend, even though she had more than enough work to do. But despite the empire she'd built, despite her constant whirlwind of business meetings, her mother had been there, smiling, laughing, showing up in a way Sydney had never experienced before. And that was what terrified her the most.

Sydney had spent so many years convinced her mother would never truly be there for her. But now, here she was, putting in the effort, attending her team-building event, being present in a way that Sydney hadn't even thought possible. And for all the anger and pain that had built up between them, Sydney couldn't help but feel a warmth in her chest every time her mother glanced her way with that genuine smile.

"Look at you," her mother had said earlier in the day as they made their way to the campfire circle. "You're still so tense. You need to relax, Syd. This is supposed to be fun."

But the fun felt distant, fleeting. Every time Sydney tried to let herself enjoy the laughter of her colleagues, the camaraderie, the firelight dancing in the trees, her thoughts kept circling back to the question she couldn't quite answer: What if I forgive her?

What if forgiving her was as easy as simply letting go of the past?

The thought was both enticing and horrifying. She had never wanted to need her mother, to feel the kind of love that came with her presence. It was always easier to keep her at arm's length, to protect herself from disappointment. But now, with her mother trying so hard, Sydney felt something stirring inside her—something she hadn't felt in years.

And then there was Alan.

He was always there, in the background, watching, waiting, just like her. His eyes, whenever they met, sent a shiver through her. The intensity, the unspoken tension—it was suffocating and magnetic at the same time. They were surrounded by colleagues, friends, and even her mother, who was blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

It wasn't just the guilt anymore. It was the quiet, insistent pull she felt toward him. Every glance was electric, every smile felt like a forbidden promise. Sydney didn't know how to handle it, didn't know where it was leading. All she knew was that she couldn't stop thinking about him, even when everything in her screamed that this was wrong.

Lia was sitting beside her, chatting with a few coworkers, but her eyes kept darting toward Sydney, a silent acknowledgment that something was off. She could sense the turbulence beneath Sydney's carefully constructed facade.

But Sydney couldn't even find the words to explain it to her. Not when she couldn't explain it to herself.

The group was preparing for one of the team-building activities, something involving a challenge course through the woods. People were laughing, stretching, getting ready to race through the obstacle course. Sydney had half a mind to sit out—she wasn't in the mood for games, not with everything weighing on her—but when her mother appeared at her side, pulling her into the group with a bright smile, Sydney couldn't say no.

"I'll race you to the finish line," her mother teased. "You look like you need something to distract you."

Sydney only smiled weakly, but when she looked around, her gaze was immediately drawn to Alan. He stood across the clearing, speaking quietly with a few colleagues, his hand running through his hair as he laughed softly. His eyes met hers from across the campfire, and for a brief second, there was nothing but the two of them, no one else. His expression was soft, unreadable, but there was a weight behind it—something he wasn't saying, but Sydney could feel.

It wasn't just a look of attraction—it was deeper, more complicated than that. It was the unspoken understanding between them, the silent acknowledgment of everything they had both been trying to ignore.

Sydney's heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted to look away, to stop feeling this, but she couldn't.

Her mother laughed, pulling her into the crowd, and for a moment, Sydney forgot about Alan, forgot about everything except the laughter and the warmth of her mother's arm around her. The challenge course began, and people took off in pairs, the atmosphere light and carefree. But Sydney couldn't escape the undercurrent of tension that buzzed through her.

As they navigated the course, Sydney's mind drifted again. She couldn't focus on the obstacles ahead of her because her thoughts kept circling back to Alan. Every time she caught his eye, every time their paths seemed to cross, there was that spark, that electricity that neither of them could deny.

Lia was ahead of her, laughing as she climbed over a wall, and Sydney was almost relieved for the distraction. But when she finally reached the end of the course, breathless and dizzy from the exhilaration, she turned to find Alan standing just beyond the finish line, watching her with that quiet intensity.

The others had already dispersed, but neither of them could move. The distance between them seemed to stretch, even though they were so close. Sydney's heart pounded, and the weight of her confusion felt heavier than ever.

"Good job," Alan said softly, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. His eyes never left hers, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

Sydney opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She wanted to say something—anything—to break the tension, but nothing seemed appropriate. Nothing felt right.

And then, as if by instinct, her mother appeared beside her, throwing an arm around Sydney's shoulders with a smile.

"You were amazing, sweetheart," her mother said, her voice full of pride. "Maybe you'll be the one to beat me next time."

Alan stepped back, his jaw tightening imperceptibly, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned away. Sydney felt something shift in the air, a shift that felt like a door closing, or maybe a barrier going up between them, even though neither of them had said a word.

Her mother was smiling, oblivious, and Sydney felt her chest tighten. She couldn't help but wonder, in the quiet recesses of her mind, if forgiving her mother was somehow easier than facing what was growing between her and Alan. Maybe it was simpler to heal the wounds with her mother than it was to face the ones Alan had unknowingly opened.

But she didn't know anymore. Everything was too tangled. Too wrong.

And still, as she looked at Alan from across the camp, she couldn't shake the feeling that whatever they were becoming, it was something she couldn't outrun, no matter how hard she tried.

The evening wore on, but the air around Sydney never seemed to settle. The laughter, the campfire crackling in the background, the voices of her colleagues weaving together in an easy symphony—it all felt distant, a world away from the chaos she felt inside.

Her mother had drifted into the circle of company leaders, chatting animatedly with a few of the higher-ups, her laughter rich and genuine, a sound that Sydney could almost pretend was familiar, if only for a moment.

Lia had pulled her into a small group near the fire, but Sydney couldn't focus on their conversation. She kept finding herself glancing over to the edge of the camp, where Alan stood, leaning against one of the nearby trees, his expression unreadable but his eyes—his eyes spoke more than anything else. They were always on her, always lingering, even if just for a second. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore, and that terrified her.

And when their gazes met, it was as if the world stopped spinning, just for a beat. There was nothing between them but raw, unspoken desire. Yet there was also something else—a quiet pain, a shared understanding that neither of them could put into words.

Sydney had told herself she wouldn't look back, that whatever this was—whatever they were—it couldn't happen. It was impossible. Her mother was trying too hard to make amends. There was no place for Alan in this new chapter of her life. But the temptation, the way he made her feel... it wasn't something she could just forget, no matter how wrong it was.

"Syd, you okay?" Lia's voice brought her back to the moment. "You've been spaced out since the course."

Sydney forced a smile, shaking her head slightly as she glanced back at Lia. "Yeah, just... tired, I guess."

Lia studied her for a moment, sensing the lie, but she didn't push. Instead, she slid her arm around Sydney's shoulders and pulled her closer into the warmth of the fire. "Well, when you're ready to talk about it, I'm here."

Sydney didn't respond, her mind still lost in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Everything felt heavier than it should have been. She didn't want to push her mother away—not when her mother had made the effort to be here, to be present in a way she hadn't been in years. But it wasn't that simple. Sydney couldn't just ignore the way her body reacted to Alan, the pull between them that had never truly gone away.

Alan's presence at the camp seemed almost out of place. She knew why he was there—he wasn't the type to enjoy these sorts of things, but he always showed up when he needed to. Always loyal, always protective. She could almost hear his voice in her head now, soft and calm, saying something like: "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone but yourself, Sydney."

But how could she explain any of this to herself?

She excused herself from the group, her legs carrying her toward the edge of the camp where she had last seen Alan. The night was cool, the air thick with the scent of pine, the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot.

She found him, standing just beyond the circle of light cast by the fire, his broad frame silhouetted against the trees. When he turned, their eyes met once again, and for a fleeting moment, Sydney almost wished she could pull back, run away from the intensity of it all. But she didn't. She couldn't.

Alan didn't speak at first, as if waiting for her to break the silence. The tension hung between them like a delicate thread that could snap at any moment. He didn't move closer, but his presence was as palpable as if he had.

"Syd," he said finally, his voice low, steady. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

Sydney's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't move. She stayed rooted to the spot, eyes locked on his. She wanted to tell him it was nothing—that she was fine—but the words were trapped somewhere deep inside her, buried under layers of guilt, fear, and desire.

"I'm not alone," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Alan's eyes softened, his expression unreadable. But Sydney could feel it. He was hurting too. His jaw tightened, the muscle beneath it working as if he were holding himself back, biting down on something unsaid.

"You don't have to pretend with me," he said, his voice thick with restraint. "I know you're scared. But don't shut me out, Sydney. I don't... I can't... I won't leave, not now, not when I know how this feels between us."

Sydney's chest tightened, the knot inside her threatening to undo everything she had tried to convince herself of. She wanted to scream at him, tell him it was all wrong, that they were both playing with fire, that she couldn't—she couldn't—let herself get tangled in this. But instead, she swallowed the words. She couldn't push him away. Not now. Not after everything.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, her voice raw, vulnerable. "Everything feels like it's slipping through my fingers, Alan. I don't know who I am anymore. I thought I was over it—thought I was fine, but..."

Her voice broke, and for a split second, she felt the weight of everything pressing down on her, all at once. The guilt. The confusion. The pull she felt toward him that she knew she couldn't deny.

Alan didn't say anything. He simply took a step forward, closing the distance between them, until he was close enough that Sydney could feel the warmth radiating off him. He reached out, a gentle touch on her arm, grounding her.

"You're not alone in this," he whispered, his voice steady and low. "I'm in the picture... wanting you too even if it's forbidden...So we have to figure it out. Together."

Sydney closed her eyes, torn between the need to distance herself, to protect herself, and the overwhelming pull of what he was offering. The warmth of his touch. The depth in his voice. The way he understood her without needing her to say a word.

Her mind screamed at her to step back, to walk away. But everything in her heart told her to stay.

And in that moment, she didn't know what to do. All she knew was that this—whatever this was—wasn't over. Not by a long shot.