Page 17 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

“I’m n-not r-ready to lose him,” I hiccup out, my voice hitching with each breath.

“I know, love.” He hands me a handkerchief. Not a tissue, a real, neatly pressed square of cotton just like my dad used to carry, and it sets me off again as I bury my face in my hands.

I feel Danny’s gentle hand run through my curls slowly, and I know I need to get myself under control. I’m sure this is not the kind of Christmas Day he had in mind for only our second Christmas together.

“Why don’t we get you in the car?” Danny says, leading me to the open door. “It’s cold.”

Unable to respond in any way, I climb in as instructed. He closes the door and makes his way around to his side, sliding in beside me and starting the engine, but he doesn’t go anywhere. He simply switches the heater on to warm the car’s interior and takes my hand.

I don’t know how long we sit there in silence, the heater pumping out warm air and the radio churning out Christmas songs on a low volume while Danny holds my hand and waits for the storm of grief to pass.

And it is grief. I feel like I’m mourning my father even though he’s still here, but at the same time I’m so afraid to let go, so afraid to lose him. I’m a mess.

“No, you’re not,” he rumbles, and I realise I must’ve said it out loud.

I sniff loudly and wipe my eyes with the now very soggy handkerchief. “I’m sorry.”

He reaches out and cups my cheek, angling my face toward him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

I swallow hard. My throat aches and my eyes feel like sandpaper. I blow out a slow breath and sniff again. “It’s probably just a cold, but every time he gets sick, he gets a little frailer, and every time it’s harder for him to bounce back. It just reminds me of how little time I have left with him.”

“There’s still time though, love,” Danny says. “You just have to treasure the moments you have.”

“Even ones like today?”

“Even ones like today.” He nods. “Even though he didn’t want to interact with anyone, even though he was feeling unwell and out of sorts, when he was feeling his worst, it was you he let hold him.”

I blink back the tears once again trying to escape. “I’m so grateful for you, Danny. You do know that, right?”

“I know.” He smiles, picking up my hand and kissing my palm. “Why don’t we head back and see what carnage is going on in the flat? Harrison and Sam have probably arrived by now.”

“Oh my god.” I choke out a small, huffing laugh, grateful for the interjection. “I wish those two would just fuck already. They’re driving me insane with all their bickering.”

Danny snorts and shakes his head. “Are you going to be all right? We can stay a bit longer if you need the space. You know as well as I do how hectic it’s going to be when we get back to the flat.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, my voice a little hoarse. “I could probably use the distraction or I’m just going to mope. Besides, they’re our weird little family.”

“Yeah, they are,” he agrees. “Ready to go home, then?”

I take a breath and nod. “I’m ready.”

* * *

Predictably,the flat is rowdy and smells delicious. As we walk through the door and hang our coats up, Chan wanders out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a tea towel.

“How did it go?” he asks, then pauses when he sees my puffy eyes. “Oh, honey,” he says in sympathy, stepping in and wrapping his arms around me. He smells gorgeous—I don’t know what the scent is, but it’s comforting in a way. Although his sequin dress is scratchy as hell. I don’t know how he wears it. “Are you okay, sweetie?” He pulls back and cups my face gently. “Tell me what you need. Do you want to eat your body weight in chocolate? Or get sloppy drunk and cry-eat your way through a mountain of roast potatoes and sprouts?”

“Um, a little of both, I think,” I reply with a small smile. “Minus the sprouts.”

“Okay, then.” He laughs fondly. “Why don’t you both go and sit down and relax? I’ve got everything under control and you timed it perfectly because dinner is almost ready.”

I frown. “I feel really bad that we’ve just dumped everything on you.”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “I love cooking for everyone. Usually, it’s just me and Aidan, so this has been a lot of fun, plus–”

“Oh my god! You are absolutely ridiculous! How dare you imply–” Harrison’s voice carries from the living room, cut off abruptly by something Sam mumbles too low for us to make it out.

“Besides,” Chan continues, “I’ve had the sexual tension and verbal foreplay from in there to keep me entertained.”