Dominate

by Amy Daws

  And I feel like the walls are closing in on me.

  I move to the window, then hear a creak behind me. My head snaps to see my father standing in the doorway. His chest is high, like he’s holding his breath as he takes in the room before him. He stares closely at every square inch like even a speck of dirt will hold a memory.

  His hands tighten on the doorframe as he clears his throat and states in a hoarse voice, “I haven’t been up here in years.”

  I watch him carefully, silently, nervously. He looks haunted but determined as he prepares to walk in. I turn to gaze at the space and reply, “It’s not my favourite room of the house, I’ll tell you that much.”

  He forces a tight smile and gingerly takes a step in. “Nor mine.”

  I slide my hands into my jeans pockets and tip back on my heels. “I was drawn up here for some reason today.”

  He nods and makes his way over to where I stand, looking out the window as he replies, “Your mother was always good in a crisis.”

  I exhale heavily. “Is that what my life is now? A crisis?”

  Dad turns and leans one shoulder against the wall by the window, the sunlight pouring in and casting shadows over the lines of his face and illuminating the grey scruff on his jaw. “I’m sorry for what’s happened with Sloan, Gareth.”

  “I really messed it up good,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders and crossing my arms over my chest. “I didn’t trust Sloan to make her own decisions. I broke Sophia’s heart and I alienated her father—a man who will always be in their lives no matter what. There’s no way I can get back what I’ve lost.”

  Dad nods somberly. “It seems you were acting like you had lost already.”

  My brow furrows at his unexpected response. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, you were assuming the worst from her. You thought she’d move away. You thought she’d take her ex-husband back. It’s almost like you were grieving her before she even left you. Similar to what I did when your mother was ill.”

  His words barrel through me like a punch to the gut. “I wasn’t grieving her. I just sensed that she no longer needed me in her life like she did when her marriage first fell apart.”

  “You were protecting yourself.”

  “From what?”

  “From unimaginable pain. Gareth, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when you’d give your heart to someone. I thought you lost that part of you when your mother died. But when I saw Sloan standing over you in that hospital bed, defending you so fervently, I knew I was wrong. And bloody hell, son, when you woke up and looked at her, I saw how hard you had fallen.

  “But you have never been a man who does well sitting idle. You jump in and handle situations. You are proactive, not reactive. But dating a single mother comes with things you can’t control. And I think the deeper your feelings grew for Sloan and Sophia, the more afraid you became.”

  “You’re damn right I’m afraid. Sophia deserves a father and, no matter what I do, I’ll never be that to her. That’s genetics. It’s not something I can change.”

  “Being a father isn’t a birthright, Gareth. You should know that better than anyone.” He gestures downstairs, his eyes narrowing as he shakes his head. “You have an entire hoard of well-meaning, nosey buggers who love you unconditionally. They won’t let you fall. They won’t let you break. They will glue you back together and make things whole again no matter how much you try to fall apart. It’s not about calling yourself a father. It’s about letting them be your family. Sloan and Sophia are your family, Gareth.”

  A painful knot forms in my throat from his words. Words that I long to be true. “What if I said and did things I can’t come back from?”

  “Rubbish,” he growls and straightens to stare hard into my eyes. “The love of a true family is unconditional. I mean, bloody hell, look at all I’ve done in my past, yet you still manage to tolerate me.”

  I can’t help but smile at his flippant remark. The ease to which he admits his mistakes now. He is a completely different person than who he was before but, deep down, I know this understanding man was always in there. He just lost sight of that part of himself for a while.

  “I more than tolerate you, Dad,” I exhale heavily and place a hand on his shoulder. “I love you.”

  The corners of his mouth turn down as he fights emotions that swell inside of him from the three words I haven’t said to him in ages. I pull him in for a long, overdue hug. We hold onto each other, breathing in and out and allowing the natural labels of father and son return to where they belong, even if just for a moment.

  Finally, he pulls back and squeezes my shoulders while staring hard into my eyes. “One thing about being a Harris that’s both a fault and a virtue is that when we fall, we fall hard. But it’s forever, son. That kind of love isn’t something that’s easy to walk away from.”

  “Gareth?” Vi’s voice interrupts us, her eyes falling nervously around the room as she says, “There’s someone here to see you.”

  She steps back, and my breath catches in my chest when I see Sloan standing in the doorway.

  Sloan is here. In London. At my father’s house.

  My eyes drink in the sight of her, realising it’s only been days but I’ve missed her more than I ever thought possible. She’s wearing a long black dress and heels with her hair tied back low on her head. Her eyes are downcast and sad like they were the night she came to my house broken and out of control. The time when she really did need me.

  Her gaze lifts to mine, striking me through the heart with her golden, red-rimmed eyes. And that feeling—that overwhelming sense of wanting to both surrender and dominate—is present and potent all around us.

  She exhales heavily and her voice is shaky when she asks, “Can we talk?”

  Dad clears his throat and claps me on the back before striding out of the room, gently touching Sloan’s shoulder as he passes. Sloan tucks her hands behind her back and moves further into the room, her heels clicking on the hard wood as she walks the perimeter.

  “Vi said this was your mother’s room?” she asks, looking around, the natural setting sunlight illuminating the space in a golden glow.

  I nod. “When she was ill, yes.”

  “A lot of bad memories in here then?”

  I shrug. “Some good, too.”

  Her steps are slow and steady. “Do you feel her presence in here?”

  Her question causes an instant knot to form in my throat. “I think I do actually.”

  Her sad eyes narrow thoughtfully. “What does it feel like?”

  I move to the centre of the room, forcing air in and out of my lungs as I turn on my heel to watch her movements. “Like light…Like love.”

  Sloan’s brows lift and she pauses to look out the window as I ask, “What are you doing here, Sloan?”

  The corners of her mouth turn up as she peers over her shoulder at me. “I’m Sloan again?”

  I shrug my shoulders helplessly. “Who do you want to be?”

  She bites her lip for a second before replying, “I want to be many people, Gareth.”

  She pauses to stare down at her feet, and I hate the sad expression on her face. I’m responsible for it this time. Not Callum, or Margaret, or her custody circumstances. Just me.

  “Okay. So, who are you right now? Someone who came all this way to end things with me?”

  Her eyes flash up to mine. “Is that what you want?”

  “No,” I reply instantly. “But I understand if that’s what you need.”

  She nods and bites her lip again. “I’m going to tell you what I need.”

  I bite down on the inside of my cheek, fighting off the words I want to say in response.

  “Callum thought that I needed Sophia under my roof at all times. He thought that would be all I’d need to take him back.” She lifts her shoulders and twines her fingers in front of herself. “It turns out he didn’t need me. He needed money. I found that out after I spoke to that Santino lawyer of yours.”


  “You talked to Santino?” I ask, my tone hopeful.

  “Yes,” she snaps back. “He called me, so I had him look over the papers I signed. Apparently, Margaret had a second trust fund set aside for Sophia that would go to Callum if he ever got back together with me. If he didn’t, it goes to Sophia.”

  “Jesus,” I reply, my hands flexing angrily by my sides.

  “Yeah,” Sloan replies with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

  “So, what happened?”

  Sloan begins walking again. “I gave Callum the money given to me by Margaret.”

  My blood pressure spikes. “What? Sloan, you said it was millions.”

  “I don’t care because I don’t need it,” she states firmly, turning to face me. “What I need comes in a much different sized package.” She swallows and walks toward me in the middle of the room, standing only a couple feet away from my face. “Gareth, what I need is to know how you could think I’d subject myself to that dick of a man again?”

  My jaw slides back and forth as I look down at the floor. “He is Sophia’s father. I think that because you always put her first, you will always have a soft spot for him no matter how awful he is to both of you.”

  Sloan laughs, her entire body shaking with agitation as she shoves a hand through her hair. “So that’s it?” she retorts, her eyes welling with tears. “You think I’m the same emotional wreck of a woman who showed up on your doorstep that night in tears? The one you had to kneel in front of before she crumbled into dust?”

  “Sloan…Jesus, no.” I step closer to her and her scent washes over me, sweet as always and mixing with the memories of this room. It makes everything inside of me ache. “I think you’re incredible. You’re the strongest mother I know, and I’m madly in love with you. But I love Sophia now, too, and I would walk through fire before I’d ever hurt her again. So I’ll walk away if that is what’s best.”

  Sloan’s eyes soften and a single tear slides down her cheek, but she swipes it away before it drops to the floor. “You’re right, Gareth. What’s best for Sophia does come before everything else. I’ve always put her first. I had to because she was sick for so long, then recovering even longer. I’ve always adjusted to other people’s needs so much, I had forgotten what it felt like to have any of my own.”

  She steps in even closer, her face only inches away from me. “But then you happened. And you empowered me to own my feelings. My desires. My fantasies. You let me be who I wanted to be. For the first time in ages, I wasn’t pretending anymore. I wasn’t playing make-believe like Sophia says I was before. I was being me because of you!”

  She grabs hold of my hands, her touch like an ice bath that shocks and zaps all of my senses into overdrive. “Gareth, you have given me my only real moments of pleasure, of happiness, of pain, of crazy, intense passion that I get to feel on my own without having to adapt to someone else. How can you walk away from us so easily?”

  My entire body erupts with equal parts joy and pain. “This isn’t easy, Sloan. Nothing about this is easy. The majority of my life, I built these cliffs around my heart and never let anyone get in. I never wanted to feel the pain my father felt when he lost my mum. I thought I was doing what was best for you and Sophia. I didn’t think you needed me anymore.”

  “Of course we need you!” she exclaims with a cry. “I want us to be a family!”

  With that magic word, I grab her face in my hands and slam my mouth to hers. I part my lips and kiss her with such ferocity, I forget where we are. I forget where we’ve been and where we’re going. I just fall. I jump off that cliff, out of that plane, and I free fall with the delicious words that came from her mouth.

  They taste good. Like a promise, and a devotion, and a future.

  She tastes like mine.

  I pull back, my body tingling with raw, earth-shattering awakening as I stare down at her ruddy lips while dragging deep breaths back into my lungs. “Sloan…Treacle…I love you, and I’m sorry for pulling away. I’m sorry for hurting you and not trusting you. Please dominate me like this anytime you’d like because, as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be right here.”

  Sloan laughs and a garbled cry escapes her throat as I wipe the tears away from her cheeks. “Let’s just promise to jump out of the plane together, okay?”

  My smile is wide, and vast, and happy. Really fucking happy. I press a kiss to her lips and murmur, “Whatever you say, boss.”

  I wrap her in my arms and kiss her deep, and hard, and soft, and slow. I kiss her the thousand different ways I’ve kissed her this past year because I’m in. I’m all in now no matter how scary this dive feels.

  Sloan and I rejoin the others downstairs. I’m thrilled to see that Sophia has come with her and is in the back garden, kicking around a football with my brothers. Watching them play with her like she’s one of their own brings a sense of pride to my chest that is new and different and equally as extraordinary as the day I met Vi’s little one.

  I ask Sophia if she’ll take a walk with me. After some urging from her mother, she agrees.

  She’s quiet as we walk through the back gate that opens up into the woods behind my dad’s house. I explain to Sophia that this wooded park is owned by the city and how we recently got into trouble for helping Booker build a playhouse out here. Then I start rambling about how it is a bit odd for a grown man to want to build a playhouse before he even has kids because, at the time, Booker and Poppy hadn’t had their babies yet. But they were best friends when they were Sophia’s age, and the house turned out quite cute, so I thought she might like to see it.

  I was doing a lot of rambling.

  My entire life, I’ve been a man of few words and kept everything close to the cuff. But the minute I need the forgiveness of a stubborn seven-year-old, I’m suddenly a chatterbox.

  Sophia and I find the playhouse that ended up being donated to the park so they wouldn’t tear the thing down. It’s an adorable topsy-turvy-style cottage with crooked windows and a high peak roof. The truth is, it’s some keen craftsmanship that we Harris Brothers wouldn’t have had a clue how to build if it wasn’t for Hayden, his brother, Theo, and his friend, Brody.

  I open the little door and Sophia’s eyes are downcast as she steps inside. She immediately sits at the tiny table and looks around the room, taking it all in.

  I knock on the tiny doorframe and she glances over at me with a frown.

  “May I come in?” I ask, half smiling.

  She shrugs, then nods subtly. I have to get down on my hands and knees and turn sideways to fit. There’s one other chair opposite Sophia, so I position myself on top of it, wincing when it creaks beneath my large frame.

  My knees are up under my chin as I look over at Sophia and ask, “Are you ever going to look at me again?”

  She continues frowning and stares down at her hands, her shoulders lifting with another shrug.

  “Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

  She shrugs yet again and begins picking at the chipped nail polish on her fingers. I awkwardly reach into my pocket and pull out a bottle of nail polish that Vi luckily had in her handbag. I pass it over to Sophia and her eyes flash up to mine.

  With a smile, I lay my hand out on the table and drum my fingers expectantly. “I have the World Cup coming up, so I’m going to need a full set.”

  She smiles a tiny smile and opens the bottle of polish, getting right to work on my nails.

  “You know, Sophia, that day you saw me with your dad, I wasn’t myself.”

  “Oh?” she says quietly, still focusing her attention on my fingers.

  “No. I was scared.”

  “Scared of what?” she mumbles as she dips the brush back into the bottle.

  “I was scared of losing you and your mum.”

  She stops what she’s doing and hits me with her stunning brown eyes. “Where would you have lost us?”

  “Well, not lost physically. I just felt like maybe I wasn’t good for you guys. Like maybe
you didn’t need or want me anymore. It seemed like your dad wanted to be there with you and I was just getting in the way.”

  She’s silent as she continues painting my nails. I think the entire conversation is fruitless until she says, “You do get in the way a lot. You’re kind of big.” I huff out a small laugh but remain quiet, careful not to derail her line of thinking. “But I like you in the way. I like when you are at our house. It feels cosier with you there, and Mummy is always smiling.”

  “She is?” I ask, the corners of my mouth lifting at Sophia’s observation.

  She nods and her face falls. “She didn’t smile this week at all. It reminded me of how she was in the old house.”

  My brow furrows, but before I get a chance to reply, she asks, “Gareth, do you really think my dad doesn’t love me?”

  “No, Sophia…No.” I lean across the table, my tone urgent as I run my hand down her arm in soothing strokes. “You are the most loveable seven-year-old I’ve ever met in my entire life. There is no way your dad doesn’t love you. I just said that because I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

  She’s quiet for a minute as she thinks that through, then dips the brush back in the bottle while softly murmuring, “Sometimes it feels like my dad doesn’t love me.”

  “Hey,” I reply, crooking my finger beneath her chin and forcing her to look up at me. She hits me with eyes full of disappointment and sadness, and I know in that second that I will do anything for this little girl for the rest of my life, even if Sloan and I don’t work out. “If you’ll let me, I will love you enough for one hundred dads.”

  A tiny smile flits across her face, but she quickly scowls and hits me with a sassy fire in her eyes. “One thousand is more than one hundred.”

  My brows lift at her challenge. “One hundred thousand is more than one thousand.”

  “Or more than one million dads!” she exclaims, her posture straight and her smile genuine as she giggles and shakes her head. “That’s a lot of love. Just don’t squeeze me so tight that I can’t breathe. Mummy does that and sometimes I think I might puke.”