Page 66 of Butterfly

He kisses me, pushing me against the wall, but he barely thrusts his tongue inside my mouth before pulling away. “My mum’s house,” he whispers.

“I know.”

“Good night.” He gives me another kiss on the lips before going to his room with Dart.

As I sit on the edge of the queen bed and touch the plush quilt, my chest warms, and the tension in my body unravels.

The storm of emotion that raged within me this morning is now a quiet breeze. So, this is how a family feels. If Alex and I are going to be together, this family will be mine as well. I rub my chest as my pulse spikes. This morning in the car, talking to him was like slashing my wrist open all over again. Do I feel better now? Maybe. The burden squashing my chest is still there. But Alex understands my pain and cares for me, and these things are worth the effort to open up to him. Perhaps he’s right when he says I should see a therapist. I could be normal. Reborn, like the butterfly Tyler compared me to. No pain, no nightmares, no doubts. Only Alex and his safe hug. I lie down, my pulse slowing.

For the first time, the only darkness that claims me is the one of deep sleep.

Twenty-one

Alex

SNOW FLUTTERS OVER the trees and the garden the next morning as I go down the stairs.

Sienna is crouched in front of the Christmas tree, rummaging through the presents, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her teeth.

“What are you doing?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

“Ah!” She jolts to her feet. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously.” I take her by the waist, raking my gaze over her dark-blue jumper that matches her eyes and tight jeans that make me want to rip them off her. “Were you trying to guess the content of the presents before you were allowed to open them?”

“A bit. You can’t blame me. It’s the first time I’ve had presents under the tree. I’m curious.”

I laugh and kiss her. “You have to wait.”

Her lips pinch. “Really? Can’t I at least open yours?”

“Nope. Especially mine. I want you to open it on Christmas Day.”

She pouts. “How can you not be curious?”

Footsteps thud from the stairs. Charlie is coming down, coat in hand. “I’m on it, don’t worry,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Morning, folks.”

“What’s the matter?” I ask, still holding Sienna who is trying to slip out of my arms and reach out for a present.

Charles scoffs. “Fiona’s friend called. Something happened to her donkey, and she asked me to go and help her.”

Fiona runs down the stairs. “I can’t come with you, darling. I have to pop into the clinic.”

“It’s all right.” Charles kisses her cheek before she leaves in a flutter of coat and scarf.

“A donkey? Is the donkey sick?” Sienna perks up.

“Or injured. I didn’t understand, but the donkey needs help. So, I’m going.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sienna says, stepping away from me. “Let me take my bag.”

“I’ll come as well,” I say.

“Actually,” Charles says, gaze darting towards the kitchen. “It won’t take long. Why don’t you stay here with Mum? She needs help with the snow on the glasshouse. She’s worried the roof might collapse like last year.” His posture slouches. “It’s important to her.”

I clench my jaw. His tone isn’t harsh, but I feel the sting all the same. “I’ll take care of the snow. Take care of my girl.”

“Will do.” His smile is strained when Sienna comes back with her leather bag.

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