A family who will love me a little more
A sister who will always have my back
A brother to fight and playfully attack
A dad to tuck me in at night with a story, telling me to sleep tight
A mother who will teach me to bake and still be there when I wake
My lunch all packed and my clothes all pressed and she even helps to get me dressed
I pray one day it will be me
To have a family to hold dearly
Who will love me most of all
So I can learn to stand tall
I rubthe ache in my chest. Since she arrived, I’ve been wanting her, thinking she’s some sort of second chance. She just wants a family. I can be what she needs. I’ll do it for her mother and I’ll do it for her. Hell, I’ll do it for myself too, because I’m a selfish bastard and need to make up for my past. She can be my redemption.
I walk up the stairs for the shower now the water pipes have gone quiet. The bathroom door is ajar. I pull my shirt off, tossing it in the laundry hamper, then step into the bathroom.
A scream pierces through the steam hanging in the air.
I step back against the door. “Fuck.”
Grabbing the nearest towel, she covers herself.
I’m frozen in place, eyes fixed on her body where a small tattoo was on her stomach. She was so quick with the towel I missed what it was. Like a magician, now you see it, now you don’t. Even now she’s covered, I can’t look away.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes wander over my inked torso as they do each time I’m half naked.
“Sorry, Vi. I thought you’d done. I didn’t know you were still in here.” Damn. I should get the latch fixed on this door. That would be the right thing to do.
She glares at me, waving her free hand while the other holds a towel against her body. It’s not big enough to wrap around and hangs down her front, hiding all her assets. “You’re still here.”
“Fuck. Sorry.” I turn around and walk out of the bathroom into the hall, closing the door behind me. My head rests against the wall while I wait for her to finish getting dry. “What was that tattoo?”
“Huh?”
“On your stomach.” The smile on my face is telling in my voice.
“Oh. You saw that?” The door opens, and she steps out fully clothed, drying her hair with a towel. “It’s a violet and a book.”
“Why a book?”
Her shoulder lifts. “I like to read.” She walks towards her room and I step into the bathroom for a shower.
She likes to write too, judging by the poem I found. There’s a stack of books boxed up in this house somewhere. I’ll have to make her some shelves and sort them out for her in her room. She’d like that.
After my shower, I can hear the sausages sizzling in the pan, making me hurry downstairs for dinner. Vi stands at the kitchen table, mashing a pan of potatoes. I wrap my hand around hers, taking over the mashing. Her breath halts as I lean in behind her, perhaps too close. But I just want to be near her and show her some love and affection. “This looks delicious.”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips. She thought I meant the food, but my eyes were on her. My posture is as calm as still waters, but underneath the surface, my blood pumps hard through my veins like the rivers swelling into the sea. The fondness I have for this girl overwhelms me. Crashing waves come out of nowhere, eroding my stone heart inch by inch.
We sit down to eat in our usual spot, opposite each other on one end of the large oak table. “I didn’t know you liked books. Although it’s no surprise. Your mum always had her nose in one. If she wasn’t writing, she was reading.”
“Really?” Her face beams, making my chest swell again, knowing I’ve put the smile on her face. “What did she write?”
