27
Oliver
MY OLD FAMILY KITCHEN was a familiar place to me. As I stood by the counter, my hands moving instinctively as I chopped some mushrooms, the memories of the summers I’d spent in this very house learning to cook with Mum came back to me.
Growing up, it was the only time she and I spent together. Between managing her firm and Dad’s career demands, the weekends I came home from boarding school were split between going over the footage from my matches with Dad and her constantly going over the things I needed to focus on in the next term. I suppose the time we’d spent here was her way of making sure I learnt how to manage once I started travelling alone, knowing how picky I was when it came to food, but at the same time, learning how to unwind. It wasn’t like I needed to that often, but sometimes, after a difficult match, it helped more than I admitted.
Tonight, though, there was a different kind of purpose to it. My laptop was humming on the counter with the last version of a proposal I was tweaking for Mum. It wasn’t what I’d come home for—after my call with Raina this morning, I’d managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before I’d driven down to visit Dad like he asked—but I’d seen the scattered papers on the dining table with a project she’d mentioned at dinner the other night, and I couldn’t help it.
When they both moved out of the townhouse a couple of years back, she’d stepped back from her firm and had started working from home, only doing projects here and there for her long-time clients, but ever since Dad got sick last year, she’d completely taken a backseat. At first, she hadn’t minded, yearning for a break after having run around for years, but seeing her light up when she spoke to her clients at the gallery had me wondering if she’d started missing the structure she’d formed as unbalanced and chaotic as it may have been.
I knew she’d never ask for my help, but she’d been the one to push me for my degree, and it only felt right to use it to help her.
Adding the mushrooms in a pot to cook, I checked again on my rice. Once I was sure it seemed fine, I grabbed my laptop again. I was halfway through going over some of the budgets for her new project when the sound of a door creaking filled the space.
A minute later, I spotted Dad shuffling into the kitchen, his steps much slower these days, his tall frame a shadow of what it used to be, but his presence was still unmistakable.
“Smells good in here,” His voice was gravelly but warm.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, taking a step in his direction but pausing as he waved me off. “I thought you were still resting.”
“Resting gets boring,” He said with a grin as he lowered himself on the chair. “Besides, I heard you clanking around in here and thought I’d come to keep an eye on you before you burn the kitchen again .”
“That was one time. I was twelve, and it wasn’t the whole kitchen.” I replied though I couldn’t help but grin. The pan had caught fire after I’d placed a patty directly without so much as defrosting it, and then, instead of doing quite literally anything sensible, I’d grabbed the nearest bottle of what I thought was water to splash over it. Only it wasn’t water—it was white wine. Safe to say, I wasn’t allowed to cook alone for a long time after that.
Dad matched my grin, his gaze slowly shifting to my laptop. “You watching game footage?”
I shook my head. “Just sorting out stuff for Mum for work.”
He nodded, though I could see he was holding back from saying something. Turning to the stove, once I was happy with my stock, I poured it over the rice and set the heat to medium. When I glanced back at him, he had this faraway look, and the air filled with something unspoken. Noticing my stare, he blinked away his thoughts. “You ready for the match? Sean said you were having issues during training.”
I swear, one of these days, I was going to kill Sean.
“What did he say, now?”
“Only that you seemed distracted.”
“Well, I’m not and he shouldn’t be bothering you with this. He’s had plenty of opportunities to tell me this, and he hasn’t.”
Dad frowned.
“Look,” I rolled my shoulder. “I’ll admit, things have been a little difficult the past year, but things are back on track. If it wasn’t for the injury, this match wouldn’t even be an issue, and we would’ve been on track, but we already won the championship, and Coach has reassured me everything looks good so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.”
I stilled. “What about?”
“I’ve never known you to be distracted on the pitch, so when he mentioned it, I just want to know you’re doing okay.”
“I am. I still love it..” I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “Lately, I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking if I want it to be what all my life is about or not.”
Dad stared at me for a beat, before a smile appeared on his face. “What’s her name?”
My head reared back in surprise. “What?”
“When a person starts rethinking what their life is all about, generally it’s after they’ve met someone who makes them question it.”
Shaking my head, I replied. “Raina.”
He tilted his head, like he’d heard her name before. “Is this the same girl you and your mother went out to dinner with the other night?”
My shoulders dropped as a chuckle left my lips and I nodded.
He smiled a little, before a tinge of something heavier settled in. “There’s a lot more to life than cricket, Ollie. You’re young, and barely starting your career but you’re already questioning about creating a balance in your life, which is smart. Trust me, I’ve learned that the hard way. Maybe, this thing happening to me wasn’t all too bad if it gives you a better way to deal with your life before you get caught up in the politics of the game.”
I gulped, not quite sure what to say. We never talked about how hard it was to step away from cricket, it had been his everything for more than most of his life. He was a legend in his own right, and now, watching me play, I knew it stirred something deep within him. It wasn’t easy for either of us, but it was then that I’d committed to something deeper in me that I wasn’t going to play with a half heart either.
Dad leaned back in his chair, before asking. “Have you fixed your leg-side shots yet?”
I blinked. “What’s wrong with them?”
“You rely too much on your off-side. Sure, it gives you the upper hand in many chances but it still makes you predictable,” He rubbed a hand on his chin like he was trying to come up with a fix. “You need to work on improving the leg side shots so you can create a balance and make it easier to throw them off.”
I nodded, before asking. “Anything else?”
Because I was sure, he was just pilling them up and waiting me to ask. “Actually, in your match with Durham, I noticed…”
Groaning internally, I turned back to the stove to check on the risotto as he continued giving me pointers. Though, I couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved seeing him a bit more up beat.
TURNING THE TV ON, I settled back on the couch. Once I stopped moving, Milo looked at me for another beat before climbing up my lap.
I’d gotten home just in time for Raina’s Pre-race show. We’d texted a couple of times today but she had been running a little late, and I didn’t want to bother her too much knowing her schedule was already jam-packed, and she’d been running around already.
And just as the starting screen faded away to her, she was in a purple suit—the ones she’d preferred for race days, her hair pulled back in a pony tail— and as she held up the microphone to her face, I could spot the scurried expression she tried to hide right away. Though, as she began her segment, it was like everything just clicked in place, and the other journalists around her found their rhythm together.
The show was halfway done when Rihaan walked in. “Hey, How’s your—” He paused as he noticed the screen before dropping on the couch opposite me and farthest away from me, considering Milo was still curled up on my lap.
“Since when do you watch Formula One?” He asked, his stare fixed on Raina as she interviewed one of the team principal’s on the upgrades they’d brought to the track.
“Since your brother gave me a crash course on it?”
“That was like three years ago,” His gaze narrowed on me. “You couldn’t even sit through the whole race when we went to Silverstone both times because you complained about how long it was. And now suddenly you care about it enough to not just watch the race but sit through 45 minutes of the pre-race show where they talk about strategy for the race?”
I pressed my lips, lifting a shoulder as I feigned nonchalance. “I changed my mind.”
As Vedant appeared on the screen, he got distracted at how Raina had let the others take over the questioning when it came to their brother. My guess was that Vedant still hadn’t realised his mistake, which was strange, considering he’d been the one who I assumed was the closest to her.
Once the grid line up appeared on the screen, I grabbed my phone to text her.
Me: Solid Pre-race show, particularly enjoyed watching Vedant squirm.
Me: Should I expect the same treatment when you move over to cricket?
Her reply came back instantly.
Raina: Thanks! Ha, he deserved it.
Raina: That depends on whether or not you’re planning to keep me out of the loop when you make big career decisions?
Me: Would you like me to sign a contract that says you would always be the first one to know about anything for the rest of the time?
Raina: Hm, sounds appealing.
Raina: Though, I wonder what Sam would have to say to that… considering she currently holds the exclusive rights to all things Oliver King.
Noticing Rihaan’s gaze on me, I held back my laugh before focusing on the screen as the formation lap was over. Though my mind was still focused on how she’d watched my interviews—not just the ones from game days—but others to realise that Sam had been the one to interview me for most if not all of them. It wasn’t anything personal, I’d been around her enough from the start to create a long relationship that felt easy, especially when it came to breaking news when joining the main squad—be it for under 19s or the ODI squad.
Just as the lights went out, I typed back my response.
Me: all things to my career.*
Me: But doesn’t matter, because she’ll just have to accept that there’s only one person I want to have exclusive rights to me.
Me: Though it’s good to know I’m not the only one who did the snooping.
A minute later, her reply came through.
Raina: Just evening out our playing field.
I turned my attention to the screen before my phone buzzed again. She’d liked the second message, making me think she’d thought about doing it at first but thought better of it before rereading it and doing it anyway. My heart warmed up.
Twenty Two laps in to the race, a red flag was waved after a car retired on track due to some engine leak and Rihaan turned to me again.
“So.” Rihaan paused as Milo straightened at his voice. Once he was back in to his resting position, Rihaan started again. “This new interest in F1 is all because you changed your mind?”
I cleared my throat before nodding. It wasn’t the truth, but technically it wasn’t a lie a either.
I had changed my mind, I just wasn’t offering how or why I had.
“Cool, cool.”
I looked at him, and he was wearing a slightly irritated expression. I couldn’t tell if it was because I wasn’t being honest, or if it was because I was being vague.
“What did you and Raina do when we were doing horror night?”
I tilted my head. “Can you still call it horror night if you start watching the movies before noon?”
“It’s a made-up day we created as kids, I don’t really think the naming police will come fine us for using the wrong term.”
“Fair point,” I shrugged. “I had to do some filming for most of the day.”
“What for?”
“It’s a segment they want to run during the Women’s ODI match next week,” I paused. “I thought you were part of it?”
He threw his head back, groaning. “I was. But they started filming it and decided I would work better as part of the live crew.”
“No shit.” I laughed. Loudly.
Rihaan could barely get through doing anything filming, but there was nothing more than he hated when it was part of the live show. The irony didn’t fail on me considering he often did gaming live streams.
“Yeah, apparently one of the interns watched my streams when I tested the Virtual Reality experience, they liked how I was interacting with my chat. And now I’m stuck with this. I’ll have to drive up to Manchester for it,” He grumbled, before looking back at me. “And what about her?”
“She was at work.”
Damn it. I said it too quickly.
His brows raised, confirming exactly that.
“And after?”
I held back a sigh, as I replied. “We went to see a documentary.”
He frowned. “Like a date?”
“No,” I said, evenly and carefully. “Just as two people who had no interest in joining you or frankly hearing you moan about what kind of idiots they people in the movie were for doing something they shouldn’t have.”
“So… you are friends now?”
“The past two months, where have you been running off to?”
Rihaan’s frown only deepened, but he didn’t reply. He watched me for a beat, but when I only raised a brow at him, he just shook his head.
AS THE RACE WOUND down, the living room was now only filled with the low hum of the commentators analysed the race. Rihaan hadn’t much said to me since my defensive response to his question, but his mood was still much lower after sitting through a race after ages and saw his brother lost a race on the last lap to his championship rival, Axel.
But I could see his brain working overtime. It was the same look Raina got when she was overthinking, and a part of me wanted to point out the similarity. Milo was still on my lap, so I had my new found armour nearby if anything.
“How’s your dad doing?” Rihaan’s tone was casual and careful, but it threw me off either way.
“He’s… better today. I think it was his new meds that were making him feel worse, but they still need to wait a couple days for them to be completely out of his system to be sure of that.”
He nodded, scratching the back of his head. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”
Guilt formed in my throat as I nodded. “Thanks, mate.”