Page 44 of Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas

I nod as he stands, placing me back on the bed before kissing my forehead.

“Rest with these, and I’ll shout when dinner’s ready.”

I watch him leave the room as the other two sit so they are on either side of me again. Ryan pulls me against him as Ethan takes my hand.

“Come on, Baby Girl, let’s watch a little more Friends before your daddy poisons us with his cooking,” Ethan chuckles as Ryan groans.

I sit back and watch the TV, wondering if this will ever feel real. Or if I will ever get to enjoy the time with the guys without the constant voice in my head telling me they will leave eventually because they all do.

24

Travis

Lying on my bed, arms behind my head, I stare at the ceiling and try to make sense of everything. There’s so much to consider; ideas and plans I need to stop and think about, as well as trying to find the best way to help Verity recover from what seems to be years of abandonment issues. But I can’t seem to pick just one to make sense of.

Considering how I thought this evening would go, Verity seemed to come out of herself quicker than I imagined. Which isn’t a good thing. Considering she realised her father is a lying two face son of a bitch, I think the initial breakdown was caused by everything she has been through becoming too much.

Deep down, I think she’s always known her father lied to her about where he was and what he was doing. She realised she wasn’t his priority and hadn’t been for a long time. But he’s the only parent she has left, and she’s a typical daddy’s girl with serious daddy issues. Which is why I think she needs a daddy the way she does.

After dinner of chicken pasta, which wasn’t as bad as it could have been, we all moved into the lounge, where we found a small bag of gifts. Verity’s eyes instantly filled with tears when she realised they were from her father. The bastard hadn’t even bothered to give them to her himself, just left them in a cheap gift bag for her to find on her own. There isn’t even a tree up that he could have put them under. I don’t know why he bothered at all. I’d quickly moved them up to his room and told her if she wanted them, then she could have them at Christmas. Currently, she isn’t sure what she wants to do with them.

A few times this evening, as we watched TV in the lounge, I noticed that now and again, she would look around the room and then curl up further against whoever she was sitting with. This house is a constant reminder of her parents and what her father did today and many other days. I’m considering a few options to make things easier for her, but I’m worried about how she will take it. At the end of the day, there are three other houses she could live in; I don’t know how any of us will feel if she lives with one and not all of us.

There is still so much to consider and decide, and my controlling mind thinks we need to sort it all out now. But Verity needs time to consider all her options and decide what she wants to do. All I know right now is that I want to be wherever she is.

Verity dozed off on the sofa earlier, and the three of us chatted quickly in the kitchen, although a much deeper one is needed. The others told me to put all my focus on her, to help her come to terms with everything and give her the support she needs. There was no questioning why I took on the daddy role. Ethan pointed out that I’ve been a father to them since Dad died; it’s a natural role to me and what Verity needs more than anything right now. I know he’s right, but I worry they will think I’m trying to control their relationships with her.

When she went to bed this evening, Verity seemed a little more settled. We all walked her to her room, and she asked for some space tonight. We reluctantly gave it to her, but only after we made her promise not to hurt herself. She promised if she was struggling, she would come and find us. Do I believe her? I don’t know, which is probably why I can’t sleep. The thought of her ever doing something like hurting herself terrifies me. I hope she trusts us enough to ask for help when needed. I honestly don’t know how I would cope if I were to ever lose her.

It will take a bit of time, but I think she might realise quicker than I thought that she doesn’t need to hide things from us. As I told her, for me to be her daddy, she needs to be honest with me because I will find things out, and it will be better for her if I find them out from her rather than others. I will still keep an eye out for any issues as, again, she has problems trusting people, which is only understandable considering how she has been treated all her life.

I let out a deep sigh and close my eyes. I need to sleep because I want to get up early in the morning, as I know Verity will be up from six. I don’t want her to be alone for any length of time, it’s killing me her being in her room, but all I can do is hope that she is getting some form of rest.

Rolling onto my side, I let sleep slowly take hold as I drift off to a restless sleep filled with cries of pain from my sweet girl and heartache I have never witnessed, all while reminding me she is safe, and I will keep her that way.

I wake up with a jump as I feel the bed dip beside me.

“Sweetheart?” I reach up and turn on the overhead lamp. Turning to my left, I find Verity looking up at me with her doll in her arms as tears roll down her pale cheeks.

“Come here, Sweetheart,” I whisper, pulling her into my arms against my bare chest as she cries. I run my hand over her head, peppering it with kisses, and shower her with encouragement.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers when the tears have slowed.

“What for?” I ask, running my hand up and down her back.

“I hit you earlier, and I told you I hate you, and I don’t. I don’t hate you.” I can hear the tears threatening again as I kiss the top of her head.

“I know you don’t. That's why I pushed you to admit the truth like I did,” I explain. It had been so hard holding her as she screamed and fought against me, but I would do it again in a heartbeat if it was what she needed.

“Thank you for the doll. It makes it all a little easier,” she whispers, holding the stuffed toy to her chest.

“I hoped it would.” When I picked it up a few days ago, I had planned on it being a fun little gift she would probably leave on a chair in her room and forget about. I never dreamt it would become so important to either of us.

“Does it make me childish to cling to it like I am?”

I move back a little to ensure I am able to look her in the eye while answering.

“No, it doesn’t. There’s a little girl inside you who is still waiting for their father to notice them and love them unconditionally,” I explain quietly, brushing my knuckles down her cheek. “That little girl will always be there, but I will ensure she no longer feels lonely. That you both know you are loved and protected.”

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