Daddy issues || h.s

1.8

When he stepped into the kitchen, the sunlight seeped through the windows and into his eyes. For a second, he was completely blind, unable to see anything but the blinding light. He could hear voices, or rather just one specific voice. Abigail was on the phone, and her stern, businesswoman voice filled the kitchen, making him want to go up the stairs and back to bed again. But then the blinding light disappeared.

Blue dots danced before his eyes for a couple of seconds, before he could see Abigail running back and forth in the kitchen, half a sandwich in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, he phone was clutched between her ear and her shoulder, and the sound of her voice once again made him want to go upstairs and sleep. But then he saw Adelaide, for the first time since that night.

She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, a jar of peanut butter in her hand and a spoon in her mouth. Her hair was glowing like a halo around her head, and he realised she was the one who had stepped in front of the sun, shielding him from the light.

A mischievous grin spread across her face as she licked the spoon clean. At first, he didn't understand what was so funny, but then he realised. This was the exact same situation as when they first met, minus Abigail and the fact that he was fully dressed this time.

He smiled back at her, and got the feeling things might have changed after all.

"Harry darling, you're up!" Abigail's voice cut through the room, breaking the eye contact between Harry and Adelaide. She had put down her phone, and came over to him and kissed him on the cheek. She smelled like coffee and vanilla, and once again he felt that same quiver in his chest, the one he had interpreted for love so long ago. Now he knew it wasn't.

"I have a ton of meetings today, and I have absolutely no time to drop Adelaide off at school, do you think you could be an angel and do it for me?" She asked, stroking his arm up and down, up and down until he felt goose bumps rise on his skin. She smiled, thinking she knew the cause of them, but he could assure her, if she had known the true cause, she would not have been so pleased. "Yes, of course." He answered, and she got up on her toes and whispered in his ear. "Thank you so much, you can reap your rewards tonight." Her words made bile rise in his throat, and he pushed her gently away. "I look forward to it," he whispered back, and felt himself slide further down the hill of despair, grasping at straws that weren't there.

"We should go," Adelaide's voice rose above her mothers and snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He looked at her again, taking in her white sweater and her golden hair. It hung loosely down past her shoulders, but she had five small braids in it, golden rivers in a sea of sunlight. "Yeah, we should." He said, and left Abigail in the kitchen, while he went to catch the golden sunset.

Houses and trees passed by them as they drove, their pale reflections visible in the car windows. They drove in silence, a soft song playing in the background. There were times when he wanted to speak, but he couldn't find the words he needed or the strength to say them. Because after all that had happened, it seemed to him they were past the stage of small talk.

"Tell me where I should turn," he finally said, his eyes trained on the road and the houses in front of him. "Here," she said, and he turned. So they went on; she telling him where they were going, and him bringing them there.

After a while, the rows of houses got thinner, and the ones that were left, got older. Trees started popping up, and the asphalt road fell away to one made of gravel. He didn't pay much attention to it at first, because it is so hard to focus on the outside when the sun is shining inside.

He couldn't seem to take his eye off her. He took in her every movement; the way she leaned back in the car seat and the way her hair blew in the wind from the open window. They was her chest rose and fell for each breath she took, and lastly, the Band-Aid covering her left forearm. "What happened to you arm?" He asked, a frown appearing on his forehead, knitting his dark eyebrows together. "Nothing I didn't choose myself," she answered, and her pink lips turned upwards in a smile. He tried to wrap his mind around what she had said, but before he could form a coherent thought she said: "Stop here." And he rolled to a stop.