[[OLD]] A Handful of Daffodils (Forgotten Series, #7)

Chapter Fourteen

I could see this was hard for him the moment he opened the door. He froze and it was like I could see the pain that radiated off of him as he looked into the room where he and his mate had lived together. I had never been in the room and I couldn't even find a bit of curiosity within me as he leaned heavily against the door frame and let out a shuddering breath. The breath seemed to shudder his entire body, a ripple of pain that moved through him.

"It's okay if you need to take a step back." I looked at how stiff he was, his shoulders held tight and tense. This was more than difficult for him and I couldn't even begin to think of how I could help him make it better. I had lost my mum but I hadn't cleaned out her house, put away the pieces of her. This was a different sort of hurt, I knew it was.

"No." His voice cracked and he coughed as if to clear a lump from his throat as he stood up straight. "I need to do this. I can't keep this shut away." He took a bolstering breath before he slowly stepped into the room. "It's..." He coughed again as he slowly turned, looking at everything. "I haven't been in here since she died." He glanced at me, his eyes slightly glassy. "Everything is how she left it." I nodded, staying just beyond the threshold to give him time.

This was a painful moment, a cracking open of a hurt that had not yet healed and I doubted would heal, not for a very long time. I clasped my hands in front of myself as I watched him. He turned and took a shaky inhale and gave a choked laugh. "It smells like her." He gave a pain smile before he hastily wiped at his eyes and gave that shuddering exhale again. "It smells like she will walk through the door at any moment. That the last three months have all been a bad dream." His voice cracked again and he hung his head, pressing his hand to his face as his shoulders shook.

"But she won't. She's out there in the cold dark earth and she will never come in here again." His voice was so pained that I felt tears prick at my own eyes as he went down into a crouch, muffled sobs escaping him as he pressed his hands to his face. I hesitated, wanting to come in and give him comfort, even just a hand on his shoulder to let him know that he wasn't alone but I wasn't allowed to enter unless he gave me leave.

"It is hard when you realize it, that you will never stop missing them." I tried hard to express my sympathy for him, give him comfort from where I stood beyond the threshold of the room. I swallowed hard and clasped my hands tighter together. I was useless in this, I didn't know why he even asked me.

Worthless.

A burden.

The words hissed at me and I flinched slightly underneath them. I knew my worth and it kept my feet exactly where they were. I wanted to help but I couldn't. I closed my eyes, I was utterly useless and this showed it clearly. I couldn't help him and I could comfort him. The poor male was aching and hurting and I couldn't give him comfort to help him through.

He rubbed at his face vigorously, taking several shaky inhales before he sat on the floor. I watched him, trying to discern what he needed or his mood. He had changed from how he had been but there was a part of me that still had the expectation of being yelled at from him. It was hard to break that little bit of me. Not that I could say anything against him if he did, it was his right, as my current caretaker, to treat me how he wished. My father made sure I knew exactly what that meant.

Caretaker was simply a different word for owner and as I had no value, it made me nothing more than an object to possess. I hated it because it meant I couldn't cross the threshold and give Brochan the comfort he so clearly needed to help him through this process. The ways we lived in were tough but I had never experienced how tough it was until this moment.

"Sorry." He rubbed at his eyes as he said it. "I shouldn't have done that." He got to legs that looked far too shaky and I twisted my hands, pulling at my fingers as I looked at him.