I'm walking through the parking lot toward the eye doctor, my hand held protectively inside Cain's much bigger one. Yes. We're walking. But I feel like I'm floating ten thousand feet in the air, twirling through the clouds. I'm so content, I don't know what to do with myself. A bunch of songs are crammed in my head—all of them extremely cheesy and involving wedding chapels. Who cares, though?

Cain doesn't think I'm a weirdo like everyone else. I've been living with confusing fantasies in my head since puberty. They never involved my own father—ever—just a faceless authority figure. A man who would discipline me and love me unconditionally at...