Her eyes glaze over. “But how? Did she cheat on you?”
My fist clenches around my glass. I don’t know what’s worse. The truth or a lie. “Your mother was no cheater. She was already pregnant before we dated.” I hope it will satisfy her. Any more questions and I may have to get creative.
“Who’s my real dad?” Tears swell behind her lashes. The corner of her lips twitch just like her mother’s would when she was upset.
I shrug my shoulders and take another drink. “I dunno, kid. That’s why she put my name on the certificate.”
With a shaky hand, she lifts the drink to her lips and knocks back the whiskey. Her face doesn’t screw up at the taste like I imagined it would. Nor does she cough or stick her tongue out. This isn’t her first hard liquor.
“It’s late. You can kip in the spare room and we can talk more in the morning. Help yourself to whatever you like. Not that I have much. We can go to the store tomorrow and get whatever you need.”
She nods with sad eyes full of disappointment.
I grab her bag from the table. “Do you wanna grab the rest of your stuff?”
“That’s it.” She points to the holdall in my hand.
“You travel light.” I’ve known Lilly to bring more shit than this for a few nights’ stay. I carry it up the stairs, stopping halfway for her to follow. At the top of the stair, I point to the bathroom opposite my room and then to the spare room.
“It’s not much.” I drop the bag on a single bed, turn on the bedside lamp, knowing the bulb is gone on the ceiling, and move some boxes to the side. The room’s become more of a dumping ground since I moved back into my childhood home, but Violet being here may give me the motivation to spruce the place up.
“It’s nicer than what I’m used to. Don’t sweat it.” She bounces on the bed, testing it out. Her tits jiggling up and down.
“Fuck. What sort of dives are you used to?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to speak. Ali hoped she was giving her a better life. Better than what she had.
“I grew up in foster homes.” Violet shrugs. “No biggie.”
Shit. My heart drops to my stomach. “I’m sorry, kid.” I turn and close the door behind me, leaving her to settle in. She doesn’t know that I mean I’m sorry for everything. I have to take some of the responsibility for her past. I may not have done right by her mother, but I’m sure as hell gonna see her daughter’s taken care of.
I’m no father figure. Hell, I’m not much of anything, but maybe this is my chance to redeem myself. I’d do anything for Ali, even take in her kid.
3
VIOLET
Sunlight pours through the torn curtain, blinding me when I blink open my eyes. The room looks dirtier in the light of day, like nobody’s been in here in a while. I dusted off the bedding, which seemed clean enough and smelt fresh, even though the room itself was fusty.
I couldn’t tell what was in the boxes last night with only the bedside lamp for lighting, but now with the sun putting it in the spotlight, it’s full of old records and books. My fingers slide over the spines and find it odd. He doesn’t seem the reading type.
A thick layer of dust clings to my finger and I blow it off. I pad out onto the landing, needing to use the bathroom. My head does a double take passing his room, impressed with the way his bed’s made, like a hotel with the duvet tucked in at the corners. The room’s much cleaner and sparser than mine.
After using the bathroom, I dress and make my way downstairs. He’s nowhere to be seen, though the kettle’s warm. I pour myself a glass of milk and walk around the old rustic farmhouse full of character.
Entering the living room, the smell of burnt wood lingers. A large open fire built into the chimney breast is the focal point of the room. My fingers trace over the photographs adorning a rustic dresser along the back wall. A young boy smiles with two adults on a boat. Another picture shows Kane dressed in an army uniform with another man. I’ve never had a thing for army guys, but Kane looks sick in camouflage. The thought of a man like him taking care of me like a daddy makes my pulse race. Mum was a lucky girl.
Heading outside, the sun hits my face, a stark contrast to the rain when I arrived yesterday as if the heavens are shining down on me, telling me everything’s gonna be all right.
A machine sounds from the barn, and I walk over with my milk in hand. The door swings open when I push against it and Belle darts past me. My mouth drops. Kane, in nothing but a pair of jeans, much like last night, only now the sweat glistens from his body. His biceps bulge as he runs the electric saw through planks of wood, controlling it as easy as a knife gliding through butter.
He looks up, kills the machine and pulls off his safety glasses, lifting them on top of his head and pulling his dark hair back with them. His face is even more glorious in daylight. The summer has been good to him, giving his body a bronzed glow.
“Were you gonna drink that?” He nods at the drink in my hand, spilling onto my Converse.
“Shit.” I straighten the glass in my hand and close my gaping mouth. Belle materialises from nowhere to lick my pumps clean. Mum must have been quite the catch to bag herself this man. I wonder if he was this buff back in the day.
“Sleep well?” He walks to the side of the barn, grabbing a white tee from a wooden cabinet and pulls it over his head.
I shrug. “It was okay.” My eyes drift to more furniture. Some carved and some plain. All different and bespoke. “Do you make these?” My hand slides along the surface of the polished oak.
