“It’s a good-paying gig,” I heard my stepdad say.
He had one of those deep voices. It could rock you to sleep or wake up your body. Don’t even get me started on his laugh.
But his voice sounded frustrated when I walked into the kitchen. He was a professional photographer and as a budding photographer myself, I’d assisted him a few times.
He mostly did sports photography, so I’d been able to get up close and personal with a few athletes.
Well, maybe not as up close and personal as I might fantasize about because Ty, my stepdad, was very protective.
When I walked into the kitchen, he poked his phone and tossed it onto the counter.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
His response was a grunt as he turned and opened the fridge. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the contents, then
