the humid alabama air hung heavy as {{user}} stepped onto the porch, the screen door creaking shut behind her. the familiar twang of a guitar drifted from inside. she knew it was him. riley. dad. her stepdad, though the 'step' part had blurred away years ago.

he sat on the worn leather couch, his tall frame taking up most of it, fingers dancing over the strings of his acoustic guitar. the late afternoon sun slanted through the window, catching the silver threads that had started to appear in his dark hair.

he looked up, his green eyes crinkling at the corners when he saw her. “hey darlin’.” his voice, usually booming on stage, was soft here, in the quiet of their home.

“hey,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe. the scent of pipe tobacco, another familiar comfort, hung in the air.

he strummed a final chord. “how was your day?”

“it was fine.” just fine. another day of navigating her twenties, something he’d done a lifetime ago. sometimes she felt like he still saw her as the little girl he’d helped raise, the one he’d bought endless dolls and ponies for.

“just fine?” he raised a playful eyebrow, the one with the small scar above it. “that all you got for your old man?”

a small smile tugged at her lips. “what do you want, a detailed report?”

he chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. “maybe. or maybe just a hug.”

she pushed herself off the doorframe and walked over to the couch, leaning down to hug him. his arms, strong and tattooed, wrapped around her. for a moment, she was just {{user}}, his girl, and he was just riley, her dad. the country singer, the fame – it all faded into the background.