Riskinga look at the back seat of the car, I saw the flowers I had bought to lay on my parent’s grave. I hadn’t felt ready toreturn before today. If I was honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready now or if I ever would be, but yet again, Dominic allowed me to take the lead in these matters. I didn’t feel the need to lay flowers and visit a grave to remember or commemorate the lives of my parents. They lived in my heart and memories. Dominic also helped to keep them alive by sharing his memories and stories I had never heard from the time before I was born or too young to remember.
“We can stay in the village if you’d like to.”
“It would feel weird to be in the village without being in the house.”
“Do you want to stay in the house?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not a problem . . . I mean it’s not aired so is likely to be a little musty, but we can stay if you want to.”
“No, thank you.” I turned to look at him in profile as he drove and noticed just how handsome he was. “I’ve told you to sell it.”
“And I have told you that once you’re twenty-one, you can sell it if you wish or keep it and know you will have a home for life, but until then, I will maintain it for you.” He turned and smiled at me, his eyes twinkled and then suddenly darkened and if that didn’t make him look like Dom rather than my father’s friend Dominic.
I swallowed hard, unsure what to say or do, especially when I suddenly felt hot, and I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. “Ooh.” The sound left my lips a second after I felt moisture pooling between my legs. This was not good, nor was it the time or place.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned.
I flushed and could only imagine the shade of red I currently was. “Yes, fine, why wouldn’t I be? Can we visit the house before we go back home?”
“Of course, Clover, whatever you want.”
Why had I asked to go to the house? I hadn’t really wanted to and yet in that moment I had panicked to realise that I was reacting to Dominic in a way I really shouldn’t be. I needed to go to my former home and reassign Dominic to being my godfather, my guardian, and nothing more. Everything between us that was less than platonic needed to never happen again. I told myself that perhaps this sudden rush of feelings and the confusion between the man beside me and the memories of how it had felt to be kissed and touched by him was morphing into more than a crush. My feelings were based on my thoughts about my friends’ ideas regarding him, or even some kind of conflicted gratitude for all he had done for me. Yes, that was it, it had to be, didn’t it? I was just grateful for all he had done.
Gazing downat the gravestone triggered mixed emotions in me. Was this really what life came to? An inanimate object with names, dates, and roles detailed to represent a life. I read the inscriptions over and over again. My mother’s was all too familiar as I had been here in this exact spot countless times before with my father who laid fresh flowers a couple of times each week. Briefly I wondered if he would be saddened that nobody brought her flowers anymore. I pushed that thought aside and focused on the new addition to the grave, my father’s inscription. Together with Dominic, I had discussed what the inscription should be, and this is what we’d agreed on, but it wasn’t enough. Anyone who looked could see his name, date of birth and the date he had died. It told people that he had been a husband and a father but no more. It didn’t say that his passing had left a hole in my life and a gaping chasm in my heart. My mother’s passing had been bad, but my father’s was still like aphysical pain when I allowed it to seep through the wall I had worked so hard to build. The ache in my chest and the gnawing in my gut whenever I thought of him, which was often, still took my breath away. People had told me that the memories I held would give me comfort, and they did, but that comfort was fleeting as the realisation that there would be no more memories to be made resonated time after time.
Dominic’s arm came to rest around my shoulders as he pulled me in against him, his warmth and aroma wrapped around me and the familiar sense of safety and comfort were immediate, but something else began to edge in too. Something akin to the sensations I felt in the car. I didn’t know how long I could do this. Lock away the feelings I had for him and pretend that there was nothing more. Sooner or later, my mask would slip, and his lips would be on mine again, and when that happened, as it inevitably would, I needed him not to reject me again. I shuddered.
“Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”
I shrugged free of his hold. The last thing I needed was his help or his touch. “No. It’s fine. Can we go?”
“Of course. We can pop into the village and pick up some supplies for when we get back to town, but we’ll go to the house first.”
“Dominic, can we not? Can we just go home, please?”
He smiled but didn’t question it, he simply nodded.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Dominic
Today had been a strange one. The trip down had been comfortable, even in its periods of silence. Clover and I were the same in that neither of us felt the need to fill quietness with inane chatter. We talked, a lot, but we didn’t make conversation for the sake of it. Over the time we’d lived together, we had found lots we had in common, our taste in some movies and a similar sense of humour. Music was a little hit and miss but I wasn’t totally out of the loop, and she was familiar with artists her parents and I had all liked. Classically she had known very little, that was possibly more to do with her mother’s death as it had been Marianne who had enjoyed classical music, but obviously her influence hadn’t been present for a long time, however, when I played in the house, she would listen, and ask questions. I suspected that my playing was often enjoyed by her as an absent audience, especially when the music moved her. Sometimes she would sit and watch me and as the music changed or a crescendo was reached, she would hurry away and the next sound I would hear would be the sound ofher bedroom door shutting. She thought I hadn’t noticed that the attention of other women made her uncomfortable, jealous even, but I noticed everything where she was concerned. She had voiced concerns about what might happen to her should I meet someone special. I wouldn’t, ever.
There were times when I questioned how this arrangement would pan out for us. I couldn’t imagine not having this sweet young woman in my life nor my home. She had friends who were regular visitors. I laughed to myself now as I recalled her telling me about the first boy who’d asked her out. After my initial irritation that I told myself was due to her being Glen’s daughter and in need of protection from horny schoolboys, I would smile and offer reassuring words that a date would be nice for her, but not until I’d met them. Every one of them had come to our home and I had been the friendliest guy in the world until Clover left us alone, and even if it were for just a few minutes, I got my threatening message across; touch her and you die, a slow and torturous death. So far none of the horny little bastards had crossed me. I didn’t doubt that at some point one would think he wasBilly Big Bollocksand put what they perceived as an idle threat to the test. My threat was many things, none of them idle. Not only could I kill them without their bodies ever being discovered, I would. If any of them so much as harmed a hair on her head, they would disappear without trace. The rational side of me said that I was going to have to let her evolve and grow and that included her having relationships and sex, making her own decisions, but I didn’t have to like it. The less rational part, the emotive side, that considered her to be mine in every way possible, told me that she would still have to evolve and grow, and to make her own decisions, but none of those decisions included boys, sex or losing her virginity. The wordsunless you take itwere pushed down quickly by what little a conscience I still possessed.
That morning almost a year ago when I saw her arse cheeks peeking out of the bottom of that T-shirt had been my undoing. In that second, nothing existed except me and her. The desire to touch her, kiss her, claim her, and fuck her clouded my mind until I had snapped out of it at the sound of one word leaving her lips. My name. The name only she and her father had ever used, the name I had offered her,Dom. That had been like icy water being thrown over me, not that my desire was cooled, however, it did climb back in its box and allow rationality to come to the forefront. The hurt on her face as I backed off was bad but not bad enough that I didn’t think she wouldn’t succumb to the radiating desire and attraction between us. When I had rejected her, I had added insult to injury when I all but blamed her for the incident, accused her of leading me on. My angry suggestion that she should wear underwear had been a clear accusation. The memory of her splayed before me on that island came to mind. I needed not to consider the option of feasting on her because if I got one taste of her, I would consume every ounce of her and there would be no going back.
Reverting my thoughts back to the safer topic of her friends, I moved from the boys to the girls. They were a different kettle of fish entirely. They were giggly and bubbly and trying to find their way in the world as young women with bodies that reflected that but sometimes their maturity and life experiences were in stark contrast. They were all nice and seemed to be the sort of friends one might handpick for your daughter, not that Clover was my daughter, but at times their presence could be awkward for me. They looked at me, and smiled, and blushed. I allowed myself a little chuckle at the knowledge that they found me attractive, but then a belly laugh followed as I recalled the eye roll of Clover every time one of them attempted to draw my attention or simply showed their appreciation of me.
Suddenly all amusement left me as I remembered her reaction to me in the car. She looked like her friends and the flush that travelled up her neck and her face were unmistakable, but she couldn’t still see me that way, could she? I was solely her guardian, and she was a child. Okay, a young woman, not a child, but young enough to be my child. I immediately dismissed that notion. I wasn’t a parent and never would be. That wasn’t ever on my bingo card.
Since that morning in the kitchen, I hadn’t looked at her in that way, not once. Of course, I could see her beauty and she had an amazing figure, but I refused to consider that when I looked at her, I saw Elise. Fuck! I had warned those boys off, to protect her from their attention, not to save her for myself. I shuddered. No, that would be wrong on every level. The tiny voice in the back of my head that pointed out that she was an adult was quashed almost as quickly as the one that asked if it would really be that wrong.
CHAPTER
