I can do that. I can be the man she needs while her father’s away. “You hungry?”
Her face brightens like I’ve just flicked a switch on the Christmas lights. “Starving.”
“Me too. I bought a ready-made lasagna. I’ll put it in the oven.” Squeezing past her in the doorway, she’s a lot taller than I remember. She’s grown in every way. Her breasts brush against my chest and I remind myself once again that she’s Colin’s little girl.
3
ANGELICA
Iclose my bedroom door and lean against it, listening to Sawyer’s heavy footsteps descend the stairs. Finally able to breathe, I let out a long sigh, my head hitting the wood behind me, and I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling as if I haven’t taken a breath for the past ten minutes.
The last time I saw Uncle Sawyer was at my twenty-first birthday party here at the cabin. My hand reaches for my collarbone to feel the small key and birthstone necklace he bought me. A comfort whenever I get stressed.
In a daze, I stumble to the bed and clutch my large teddy, Mr. Snuggles, another one of Sawyer’s birthday gifts from when I was a child. I might call him uncle, but the thoughts I have about this man are notunclely. I chew on my thumbnail. Is that even a word?
Lifting my bag onto the bed, I unpack the rest of my things and look for something to wear other than these frumpy pyjamas. If I’m staying in a cabin with the one man I’ve fantasised about since I turned sixteen, the least I can do is look my best.
Heat radiates from my cheeks. I pause with a handful of clothes in my arms. The guy’s just seen me naked as the day I was born. I should be embarrassed, but I’m incredibly hot and turned on with the way his eyes darkened as they raked over my damp skin. For the first time in my life, he looked at me as a woman and not his best friend’s little kid.
I drop my clothes onto the bed in a huff, searching for anything other than leggings, jeans, or baggy tees and jumpers. I take off my pyjamas and open my wardrobe, hoping I have a few outfits in here. Most of my old clothes are at Dad’s house, but I always kept some here at the cabin for when we visited during the holidays.
Rifling through the clothes in my wardrobe, I realise these aren’t mine. They’re all Mum’s clothes. Dad never got around to clearing her stuff out, but he must have moved them from the master suite into here when he invited Lorraine to stay.
I unhook a black dress and catch Mum’s perfume. I drop onto the bed in my underwear and lift the crumpled dress to my nose, inhaling her scent woven into the fabric. It’s as if she’s here, wrapping me in a hug.
A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it with the fabric of her dress. It’s been four years without her and I’ve never felt more alone. I know I have Dad, but it’s different now he’s got Lorraine. He’s moving on and I’m not ready to let go.
A knock on my bedroom door startles me, and I wipe away my tears. “Yes?”
The door swings open. Sawyer’s large frame fills the doorway. I’m not small by any means, but next to Sawyer, I’m like a doll. Though not a slim plastic doll with perfect proportions. I’m one of those stuffed fabric dolls like my nan used to knit, with extra padding in the middle area.
I hold the dress in front of me, hiding my breasts and belly. “Do you have to keep barging in on me?”
“Fuck. You said ‘yes,’ so I thought you were dressed.” He steps back and closes the door. “Dinner’s almost done. Are you coming down?”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” My voice wobbles as I try to put on a brave face.
“Are you crying?” The door swings open again and he steps into my room, his eyes zeroing in on my puffy face.
“Sawyer,” I yell, holding the dress in front of my body.
He sits on the bed next to me and cups my face in his large, rough palms. His thumb swipes my wet cheek, wiping away the tears. “What’s wrong, baby girl? Tell me who’s upset you.”
I shake my head and lean into his hand, holding my face. Somehow, his touch makes everything better and I no longer feel alone. “I was just thinking about Mum. I was looking for something to wear for dinner and?—”
“Sweetheart, this ain’t a hotel. You don’t need to dress for dinner.” He reaches for my pyjamas crumpled on my bed. “Here. Put these on.” He unbuttons the top and holds it for me to push my arms inside, like I’m a child and he’s dressing me. It’s comforting, and it’s been a long time since anyone helped me dress.
I slip my arm into the other sleeve as he holds it out for me, then I let Mum’s dress drape over my thighs as I hold the pyjama shirt together and button it, all the while keeping my modesty.
Sawyer’s seen enough of me today already. He doesn’t need to see any more, not that he’s trying.
“You never have to cry alone, angel. You can talk about your mum anytime.” His hands brush against my neck as he straightens my collar. “I know what it’s like to lose a mother.”
“Didn’t your mother leave?” I sniffle, trying to regulate my emotions.
Sawyer shrugs. “Same thing. She may as well have died. I never saw her again.” He reaches for Mr. Snuggles, who’s fallenonto the rug. “At least your mother loved you.” He hands me the teddy bear.
“Thanks.” I snuggle the teddy as if it’s Sawyer, my head nuzzling into the toy’s soft fur. “I’ve got so used to hiding my feelings, not wanting to upset Dad. I don’t know how to talk about them anymore.”
