The Butterfly Cove Collection - Sarah Bennett

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of religious worship on the island of Delos.’ Mia closed her eyes while her father rattled on about his work. If he paid half as much attention to his wife as he did to the long-dead ancient Greeks, things might be better between them.

      ‘Did you clear out the drinks cabinet like we discussed?’ Her parents’ resolute determination to ignore the reality of Vivian’s alcoholism had been the subject of several difficult conversations between Mia and her father. She was also conscious that she was washing her dirty laundry in front of Daniel but it couldn’t be helped.

      George’s sigh gusted in her ear. ‘The contents of the drinks cabinet aren’t going to be a problem. Your mother took a bit of a tumble and she’s in the hospital with a badly broken leg. She’ll be there for at least two weeks.’

      Mia pressed her forehead against the cool wall and tried to calm her racing heart. ‘Oh, God. Is she all right?’

      ‘They’re taking good care of her.’ Which wasn’t a proper answer at all. Her father took another audible deep breath. ‘So I was wondering if you might come home for a bit. To visit your mother, of course. But, I thought you’d give me a hand taking care of the house. The doctors say she’ll need assistance with her rehabilitation afterwards.’

      Guilt settled hot and heavy on her shoulders. ‘I can come home for a visit, of course. But I can’t stay long. There’s so much to do here and you’d be better off getting a nurse or a proper home help in.’

      Mia raised her eyes to meet Daniel’s, wondering what he thought of the side of the conversation that he was privy to. She probably sounded cruel, but the thought of getting sucked back into the George and Vivian show was more than she could stand. Her parents had spent years locked together in a web of regret and resentment. Just the thought of walking back into the unhappy home of her childhood made her stomach queasy.

      ‘How can you be busy? You’ve got no job. Your mother needs you. I need you. I have lectures to give and an important dinner with my colleagues next week. I need you to cater for it and act as hostess in your mother’s absence.’ Ah, now we’re getting to the heart of it. Her father’s career came before everything, as usual.

      ‘I am sure your colleagues will understand if you postpone under the circumstances.’ There was no getting out of it; she would have to go home. ‘Can you give me a couple of days to sort things out here?’

      ‘If that’s what you need, I can muddle through to the weekend. You’ll at least help me make the arrangements? You are so much better at the practicalities.’ That was true. With their father wrapped up in his work and their mother self-medicating with gin, it had fallen to Mia to take care of her sisters and run the house.

      ‘I’ll speak to Kiki and see if I can stay with her.’ Staying with her sister and the git she called a husband wouldn’t be a picnic, but she’d get to see the kids and maybe get a chance to talk to Kiki at the same time.

      ‘Will you stop using those ludicrous nicknames? You and your sisters all have perfectly good names.’ There was no point in pursuing the old argument so Mia ignored the sharp retort. Their father had named them after the Horae—a trio of minor Greek goddesses, fathered by Zeus. The teasing at school had been painful, but served as another cord to bind the three of them closer together.

      Mia watched Daniel gather their cooling plates of food and slide them into the lower shelf of the Aga to keep warm. He pointed towards the door and raised a brow, clearly offering to give her some privacy. She shook her head and held out her hand towards him, relieved when he crossed to her side and gathered her small hand between his own. He chafed her knuckles gently with his thumb.

      Mia stared absently at their joined hands as she listened to her father go on and on about how busy he was, how hard it was for him to cope with work and hospital visits. How vital the dinner was to the future grant plans for his department. She wasn’t prepared for the bombshell when it landed. ‘And of course the staff at the Royal Brook are taking great care of your mother.’

      At the mention of the hospital where she’d had to identify Jamie’s body, her legs gave out and she found herself slumped on the floor, staring up at Daniel. With a worried frown creasing his brow, he knelt beside her. The oxygen she hadn’t missed from her lungs came rushing back and the first sob shook her whole body. A worried squawk came from the handset dangling between her fingers. She tried to speak, tried to take a calming breath, but grief rose like a wave, rolled her over and dragged her into its salty, bitter depths.

      She barely resisted as Daniel eased her fingers free of the handset and exchanged a few quiet words with her father before hanging it back up on the wall. Strong arms banded around her back as he picked her up and carried her towards the kitchen table. He found a seat, tugged her down into his lap after him. His warm arms curled around her, cocooning her, and Mia let him press her face into the crook of his neck.

      His hands circled around her back and up to her shoulders, massaging gently, soothing the tension from her body. Mia pressed her nose deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, allowing the familiar warm, masculine scent of this man to fill her senses as she drenched his neck and shoulder in her tears.

      He hadn’t got the full gist of the conversation between Mia and her dad, had tried hard not to listen to something obviously personal and painful. Hot, wet tears slipped down between his collar and his neck, soaking his skin, and he clenched his jaw against the virulent anger stirring in his gut. He wanted to smash something, grab up a sword and slay the dragon who’d caused this precious woman so much hurt. He tightened his arms around her back.

      A harsh sob ripped from her throat and Daniel pushed away his feelings. This wasn’t about him. Mia needed him to be a man and take her pain. Even if every drop of salt seared him to the bone, he would take her tears and be the shoulder she needed to cry on.

      ‘I’ve got you. It’s okay, love; let it all out.’ He cupped her head, pressing her face into his shoulder. ‘Is it your mum?’

      ‘Yes, no. She’s…it’s the hospital…and Jamie…I’m sorry…’ Her voice rose on a wail of such pain it hurt him to hear it. They’d been rubbing along so well together he’d almost forgotten about the invisible barrier of her husband between them. There was no way he could compete with the love she still held for him. He hadn’t even been in the running.

      Shattered, he squeezed his eyes tight against the sting of his own tears and laid his cheek upon the top of her head. ‘Shh. Don’t be sorry; don’t ever be sorry for how you feel,’ he murmured. Something he needed to remember too. She was a woman worth loving, even if they would never be more than friends.

      On and on, the storm of her grief battered him and he held firm, giving her an anchor until she subsided into a series of hiccupping sobs. She shivered, burrowing closer to him, and he rubbed her arms to try and soothe the goose bumps forming. He stood gingerly, tucking his hands under her thighs to take her slight weight. Mia wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and pressed closer, clinging like a monkey, and Daniel adjusted his grip until he knew he could hold her safely.

      He didn’t speak as he slowly climbed the stairs to the first floor and turned towards his room. He didn’t want to invade Mia’s space without invitation and she had always been protective of her room on the top floor; besides he knew where everything he needed was in his own room. Forgoing the light switch, not willing to let go of his precious burden, he kicked the door wide and navigated to the big bed. She didn’t speak, but sat on the edge at his gentle urging. He bent to slip off her shoes. The blouse she wore had rucked up around her middle.

      A quick rummage in his bedside drawer produced a soft T-shirt. It was an old favourite band shirt from his youth, the pattern barely visible any more and the cotton washed so often it was as soft as butter. He unbuttoned her blouse, left her bra in place and pulled the T-shirt over Mia’s head. ‘Stand up for me a minute?’

      Her

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