Page 47 of Swept for Forever
He had kindness and resilience in spades. But the independence part? That’s where things got tricky.
Her whole spiel was:Stand on your own two feet. Don’t expect anyone to catch you.
Not that Mom was wrong. I’d always believed it, like a rule to live by. But Dom? He was showing me a different way.
Depending on him didn’t cost me anything. He didn’t hover or coddle. He just stepped in when I needed it without making a big deal about it.
And suddenly, doing it all alone didn’t feel like the only option.
That was new. And weird.
And, if I’m being honest, kind of nice.
“Here. Hot off the dry cleaners,” he said, handing me a neatly hung shirt and pants. I thought they were not mine at first glance, but they were mine. Just cleaner and impeccably pressed.
“Dom…you did this for me?”
He wasn’t done. He handed me another bag. “Some extra T-shirts for you. I picked them up from the shop.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, already touched by the effort. Then I pulled one out.
I Buffaloberry Hill.
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. “Oh wow.”
Dom nodded, completely straight-faced. “If it helps, I got a matching one in case you feel self-conscious.”
“Dom, please. The father-daughter aesthetic? Not our best look.”
He chuckled. “Noted. But you could’ve at least said we’d look like a traveling comedy duo. That would’ve been kinder.”
I laughed out loud because, honestly, the image fit a little too well.
“How old are you anyway?” I asked.
“Thirty-three.”
I nodded. He looked about that age.
He raised an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t mind me asking the same?”
“Twenty-one.”
He matched my nodding gesture. A silent agreement to never revisit this conversation.
“I’ll, uh…I won’t be long,” I said, and he stepped out to let me change.
I rummaged through the bag of T-shirts. Most weren’t too bad. One, with little berry prints, was actually kind of cute. I threw it on under my shirt.
When I called him back in, Dom gave an approving nod. “Good choice.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t tell me you got a matching one.”
“Nope,” he said easily. “That design wasladies only. I got the boring kind with mountains and eagles and inspirational slogans.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, “because nothing says survival like a bird telling you to ‘rise and conquer.’”
I started toward the door, the crutch under my arm. As it turned out, walking on one leg was a lot harder when you weren’t being carried by a very determined ex-lawyer. The hall stretched, my gait wonky at best.
