That made me feel worse.
I turned to Sarah. “I’m sorry, my love. I just need … I’m heading to bed.” I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before she could object.
Later, when she came to bed, I pretended to be asleep.
At some point during the night, my mind finally shut down out of sheer exhaustion.
Guilt would find me in the morning again. But not for the same reason as the night before.
I woke up, the bedroom still dark, and turned to find the space beside me empty. Confused, I reached for my phone to check the time. It was barely five o’clock in the morning.
Worry coursed through me, and I got out of bed. The floorboards were freezing beneath my feet, and I hurried to pull on socks and then a sweater over my T-shirt. The farmhouse was old and bloody cold.
The stairs creaked as I made my way down them, a glow from the living room guiding me.
The sight that greeted me made my heart throb in my throat.
Sarah stood by the unlit fireplace, her head buried in the stocking that hung on the mantel. The one that was her grandfather’s. Her shoulders shook as quiet sobs wracked her body and pain flared in a sharp, stinging ache across my chest.
She was grieving, and I’d been so wrapped up in my own demons I hadn’t noticed.
Cursing under my breath, I crossed the distance between us.
Sarah lifted her tear-streaked face seconds before I reached her and came into my arms without hesitation.
Her sobs grew louder, though muffled against my chest as I held her tighter. “I’ve got you, my love,” I promised her gruffly. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”
She pulled at my sweater as if trying to burrow deeper into me. “I—I m-miss h-him so m-much,” she stuttered through her cries.
I squeezed her tighter, wishing I could take it all away. There might not be anything I could do for the victims of the sick fuck who was out there copying my show. But I could be here for Sarah. I could get her through this because I knew what it was like to lose a parent I adored. “I know, my darling. I know.” I kissed her head again. “You just have to miss him. There’snothing else for it. Some days it will feel like this. Fucking unbearable. But most days, you will bear it. I promise.”
She nodded against me, crying a little harder.
“And”—I lifted her head, holding her tear-filled gaze with mine—“on the days you cannot bear it, I will be here to bear it for you. Okay?”
Sarah’s face crumpled with a different emotion and she nodded again. “Th-thank you.”
“You never have to thank me for that.” I gently led her to the couch and sat her down. Then I made quick work of lighting the fire.
I could feel her watching me and was glad to hear her voice had calmed as she whispered, “Where did you learn to build a real fire?”
I glanced over my shoulder at her with a small grin. “Haleshall Manor. My father’s ancestral seat. It’s this three-hundred-year-old manor house on the Suffolk Coast, and it’s bloody freezing in the winter. We’d spend Christmas there, and I learned from the staff how to light the fires. They had many to light in the mornings.”
Sarah wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I sometimes forget that you grew up so differently from most people.”
“I suppose I did.” I stood once the fire was burning.
“Theo.”
“Yes?” I turned to her.
“There’s only one Christmas present I want from you this year … but I’m afraid to ask for it.”
Frowning, I crossed the room to sit beside her. “Should I be worried?”
“I … I know you and your father have an ugly past.”
I stiffened at the mention of the bastard. “That’s putting it lightly.”
