Page 115 of Off-Limits
“I miss you, mama,” I say to the empty room, jumping when I hear a knock at the door.
My eyes dart to the door, and I wonder who it could be. Standing up, I swallow, hating how dry and rough my throat feels from crying, before moving toward the door.
Wiping my eyes again, I smooth my hair down to try and look presentable for whoever it is, and as I open the door, I’m again, not at all expecting who stands there. Words get choked in my throat for a moment, before I force his name through my lips.
“Damon?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
DAMON
My name from her lips doesn’t prepare me for the onslaught of emotions. My sweet, beautiful, broken, Dottie. I don’t answer the silent questions in her eyes that I’ve missed so much, instead, I step through the door, scoop her up in my arms and cradle her to my chest.
Sobs break through immediately, and she clings to my shirt, making my damn heart splinter into a thousand pieces at her pain. I can feel it as if it is my own.
Kicking the door closed with my boot, I move around the room until I seat us on the lounge, still cradling her in my arms. I hush her, telling her it will be ok. That I will be here for her in whatever capacity she needs, that I will love her and give her my strength if that’s what she needs, that I will give her everything.
But she only answers with more tears, and it breaks my heart all over again. Smoothing down her hair, I hold her close to me, enjoying the heat of her body and the feel of her in my arms, grateful I can at least offer her this piece of solace and support.
After what feels like at least an hour, Dottie sniffles and pushes off my chest. I smile down at her and swipe the tear from her lips.
“I’ve missed you, Blossom.”
“I’ve missed you too, Tin Man.”
“How are you feeling, baby, what can I do for you?”
“I – I feel numb.”
I nod, remembering how I felt when I lost my dad. Swallowing, I push the sweaty hair from her forehead and kiss it.
“That’s normal, Blossom. It’s not easy losing a parent. And regardless of the relationship you had with your mum, Mani loved you, and she’d hate to see you suffering like this.”
“Can you tell me some memories you have of her please, Damon?”
I smile down at her as a few come to mind.
“What kind of memories?”
“Happy ones.”
I give her a nod, and she sighs, clinging to my shirt and curling back into me.
Moving through the happy memories I can remember, I tell stories of her mother’s youth, before the light was undeniably stolen from her eyes. I knew her before I met Kerry-Anne, having gone to high-school with her, and although I know the life she lived and the trauma she experienced, she still found a way to smile and laugh at school.
I think it was the only place she could escape to safely.
But I don’t tell Dottie that, and I definitely don’t tell her the times I’d seen Mani out of school with and without her dad, her face drawn, her eyes hollowed out, or the sadness that hung off her like a second skin. I push those memories as far back as I can, because not even I want to remember them.
I tell her about times I saw her at the roller skating rink with her speed skates, the devilry in her eyes when she lined up and jumped over nine people, or the gymnastic competitions she won. I even told her about the sexy leg competition her father entered her in, and how he lost his shit when she won, because everyone was looking at her legs.
A few sniffs and some laughs later, Dottie and I are silent, clinging to each other as we lie in the hotel bed. Silence hangs in the air, so many unspoken words left stagnant in our throats, but when she moves in my hands and turns to face me, I see the shift in her demeanour and the brightness in her eyes.
“What?” I ask, and she smiles at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
