Oliver nodded sagely and pointed back at the dog, grinning.
“But yes, probably strong enough to look after a dog. Especially a young one.” Alaric ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose it would mean you would have a companion. And it is important for a gentleman to understand responsibility.”
Even if he is not my son, I would not want him to turn into some kind of layabout.The smell of stale whiskey invaded Alaric’s mind, and he looked around, wondering if he had spilled something and just noticed. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. His head ached.Layabout?
The voice in his head was not his. Alaric pushed it away, turning to face Oliver as the smell faded from his mind. Oliver’s eyes were wide, and he reached a small hand toward Alaric, but stopped just shy of touching him.
“I am well. I just… I smelled something and thought perhaps someone had spilled something.” Alaric massaged his scar; the pounding in his head eased.
Oliver held up his chalk uncertainly.
“Not your chalk. Whiskey. It is a drink.”
The boy frowned, drew a glass, and then pointed to his chest.
“Maybe when you are older. It is not really for children.” Alaric smiled. “It was probably my imagination anyway. This injury plays havoc with my senses.”
Oliver bit his lip, drew a few squiggly lines on the tall figure, and changed the face to a frown. Then he pointed at Alaric.
“It does hurt sometimes. But it is better now.” He tried to give the child a reassuring smile.
Oliver reached toward him, fingers outstretched as if he might touch the scar, then quickly pulled his hand back, his eyes widening in alarm.
Alaric understood and leaned forward. “You can touch it if you want; it does not hurt anymore.”
The boy hurried forward and touched the scar on Alaric’s forehead. His eyes widened, and Alaric could feel his gaze searching for any sign of injury. He smiled at Oliver and noticed the boy’s shoulders relax.
Oliver stopped touching Alaric’s scar and sat opposite him. He pointed to Alaric’s forehead and shrugged.
“I was in an accident,” Alaric explained, and as he did, the sound of something snapping filled his mind.
He tried to grasp the rest of the memory, but it slipped away from him. Oliver was still watching, and Alaric realized he had been silent for too long.
“I do not remember much of what happened.” Alaric shrugged.
Oliver’s eyes met Alaric’s, and in that moment, he appeared much older than a boy of seven. He pointed to different parts of his body and then looked intently at Alaric. Alaric tilted his head to one side, and Oliver repeated the gestures.
“You have been hurt before, too?” Alaric’s eyes widened.
His question came out harsher than he intended, and Oliver recoiled. Even though Alaric’s blood thundered through his body, he forced himself to speak slowly and gently.
“Did someone hurt you, or was it an accident?” Alaric asked.
Oliver shrugged.
“Both?” His heart stuttered and twisted into a knot as Oliver nodded.
What kind of life have you lived?If Oliver were his son, how could he have let him face such pain? Alaric swallowed and met Oliver’s gaze.
“I am sorry that happened to you. I cannot fix the past, but I promise that I will not let anyone hurt you. Not ever. I will keep you safe.” Alaric let the weight of his words sit beside them.
Oliver slowly nodded and sat back on his heels. The serious expression on his face softened into a smile. Alaric could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and laughed as Oliver pointed to the dog again.
“Very well. I will see what I can do about getting you a dog of your own.” Alaric grinned. “Though nothing too big, or you will spend your life being pulled around by it.”
Oliver giggled and drew another dog.
Alaric frowned and held up one finger. “Only one.”
