“Come!” he said softly. “Let’s go. My pad is just round the corner.”
As she locked the street door, even though she wasn’t looking at him, she was conscious of him next to her, his presence solid and … male …. yet not her father. Good. Reassuring. Comforting. Fitting.
His flat was big. Almost as big as the whole house she and Luke shared. It was on the top floor of a Victorian or Federation house, with tall windows looking out on the street outside.
“Sorry for the mess,” he apologised.
She shook her head. There were clothes on the sofa, and small piles of books everywhere, as well as bookcases made of bricks and planks. It felt like home, warm, accepting, unjudging, happy.
She felt unshed tears ready to fall. Home. This was what a home was like, not the prison she’d grown up in. The walls here weren’t scented with fear and pain. She swallowed hard. She would not cry. She would not.
Episodes 1 to 260 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter