Daddy Claus by Sofia T Summers

We were meant to represent tradition — instead we ignited scandal.
One kiss beneath the Christmas lights, and suddenly I belonged to a man twice my age.
At least that’s how Nathan made it feel.

He was Boston’s Lightkeeper—silver, respected, built for ceremony.
I was the girl with a past no one was supposed to remember.
But that kiss cracked something open: discipline, reputation, control.

The city watched.
Whispers roared.
My name turned to headline ink, and his face to battlefield armor.

The tradition expected obedience.
The town demanded sacrifice.
They wanted him alone under the final tree lighting –
Dutiful, distant, unscathed.

Instead, he took my hand in front of cameras, judges, and God.
Not as Lightkeeper.
Not as dean.
But as the man who refused to let them rewrite us.

If they insist on calling him Daddy Claus, they’d better remember—
Daddies don’t run.
Daddies claim.
Daddies protect what’s theirs.