Chapter 8
Bringing Poppy back to the Harris house feels like a blast from the past. Seeing her walk through the foyer again makes it feel like nothing has changed.
Sure she has more curves than she used to.
And her hair is shorter. And she has a fucking nipple ring that I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that prat Nigel had something to do with.
But when she walks into my dad’s kitchen and he sweeps her up in a big hug, it’s like the world makes sense again.
“And how are your parents?” Dad asks Poppy as he pulls a stool out for her at the counter.
“They are great. Dad’s still running the veterinary clinic with Mum right alongside him. My sister is married now, and they live in Oxford. Other than that, things have been quite boring.”
Dad chuckles. “You know, we live close enough you’d think I’d see them from time to time, but I’m afraid football is all I make time for. I should try harder.”
“Oh, that can’t be all true,” Poppy croons. “I hear you’re a top-notch Grandad.”
Dad’s eyes twinkle at the mention of Rocky. “She’s quite the stunner, isn’t she? I wouldn’t mind half a dozen more grandkids.”
Poppy laughs and Dad continues catching up with her as everybody else begins to show up.
Sunday dinners at the Harris’ became a ritual right around the time that Gareth signed a contract with Man U. Dad was decidedly upset that he signed without telling us first, but I think it had more to do with the fact that it was Dad’s former team and the history surrounding that time in his life.
Dad was a star striker for Man U at the time our mum died from cancer. I was only one year old when it all went down, but I’m told he lost it, broke his contract with the team, and sold the Manchester flat we lived in half the year.
He moved all five of us kids up to the Chigwell home without so much as a part-time nanny.
The home is gated and secluded. If it wasn’t for the wooded park behind our house, we would have felt completely isolated.
But I think that’s exactly what he wanted.
To disappear from the world. Gareth was eight when it all happened, so he remembers the worst bits… but he rarely speaks of it.
Gareth has always been headstrong like that.
Where the rest of us lean on each other and rule by committee, he’s always been a bit of a loner.
Vi could sense the disconnect with him after he bought a place in Manchester, so she instated the Sunday night dinners, no exceptions.
For the most part, we all make it unless we’re away travelling or moving into a new flat, of course.
It’s really brought our family back together.
“Booker,” Belle says my name, snapping me out of my internal reverie.
She strides right toward where I’m seated at the counter watching Vi cook while I hold a sleeping Rocky in my arms. “Indie and I are going to steal Poppy for a moment. We’re talking wedding stuff outside and we need an unbiased moderator. ”
Poppy looks up from where she’s seated with Dad at the table.
“More like Belle needs her head examined,” Indie retorts, wiggling her red frames on her eyes. “The wedding is six weeks away and she’s talking about changing the venue to Tower Park! I told her to go for it if she likes to get rained on.”
Belle rolls her brown eyes. “It’s a small wedding. If I have to change venues, it won’t be that big of a deal to call everyone and let them know. It’s where Tanner and I got engaged…erm…officially. I’ve already talked to Vaughn.”
Dad shoots Indie a guilty look. “Well, don’t let me keep you, Poppy. I’ve got to go check the barbecue anyhow.” He makes his way out of the line of fire.
Indie exhales heavily, ruffling the top-knot of red hair on her head. “There are details we already have in place, Belle! A list. I love my lists. We had everything figured out.”
Belle pins me with an exasperated look. “See why we need a third party?”
Indie and Belle look at me like I’m Poppy’s keeper. My eyes find hers. “I was going to see if you wanted to walk out to the park actually. Go visit our old stomping ground and see if our fort is still standing?” My face feels hot as her expression turns uncomfortable.
“Erm…no.” She shakes her head rapidly. “I’d actually love to help the girls.”
I frown, feeling rejected as Belle beams and all but drags Poppy out the back door to the garden.
My eyes remain fixated on where they exited, wondering what the hell just happened.
Poppy seemed weird when I mentioned the park, like she wouldn’t be caught dead out there.
I don’t understand. It’s where we met. It’s our special place.
We spent hours out there building that fort and playing together. Why wouldn’t she want to go out there?
Annoyed, I move to go outside so I can try to talk to Poppy, but Vi stops me in my tracks. “Stay where you are.” Her tone is bossy as usual. She stands at the counter, stirring a pot of sauce on the stovetop and eyeing me over her shoulder. “Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on here, Booker.”
“What?” I ask, clutching Rocky to me to serve as a buffer between me and my sister. Vi and I have always had a close connection. Probably because I was the youngest and she was trying to protect me from my brothers. But bloody hell, she can be overly insightful sometimes.
“You seem to be getting awfully territorial over your friend.” She emphasises the last word as she slides a pan of dinner rolls into the oven. “First yesterday at Tower Park. Now here at Dad’s.” She shakes her head with a sigh.
“I’m protective over lots of people,” I argue. It’s the keeper in me. I’m not going to apologise for that. “I remember having to give Hayden the Harris Shakedown not too long ago when he lost his bloody mind on you.”
She rolls her eyes. “What Hayden and I endured wasn’t easy for either of us. We’ve come a long way from those days, though. You and Poppy are different.”
“How so? Poppy’s been my best friend for ages. Why wouldn’t I want to protect her the same way I protect you?”
“Because you don’t look at me the way you look at her.”
“And how do I look at her?” I ask, lowering my voice when Rocky stirs in my arms.
She presses her palms flat on the counter, pinning me with a glare. “Like a man who wants more than what he has.”
Her words stun me into silence. Complete and utter silence.
I don’t want more than what I have with Poppy.
I want exactly what we had before. If anything, that’s all I’m trying to gain.
The “more” we had the other night was a mistake.
Getting that kind of more with Poppy would eventually end with a lot less, and I can’t lose her again.
Losing her once was bad enough. When she left for Germany, I thought she wasn’t coming back.
There was a look in her eyes that I still can’t shake.
19 Years Old
Standing in front of the McAdams’ home feels a bit surreal for some reason.
I used to walk right in without a care in the world.
But the past few months, things have been quiet between Poppy and I.
We’ve both been busy. She’s been doing a bit of travelling with her sister, and my football schedule is completely stressing me out.
I’m the reserve keeper and have been killing myself trying to become the starter.
The anxiety of it all has caused me to forget the fact that Poppy has always been the perfect reprieve.
I miss my best friend.
I knock firmly on the door. My mood brightens when Poppy is the one to answer. “Hiya, Poppy, how’s it going?” I ask, feeling odd and a bit more formal than usual.
“I’m okay, Booker. How are you?” She looks away, tugging a long strand of hair. Her face isn’t the normal bright and cheery it usually is.
“I’m all right. I erm…miss you.” I reach out and touch her shoulder playfully, trying to seem light-hearted but feeling anything but.
“We haven’t talked in a while, so I thought maybe we can go do something.
I was getting ready to go for a run, but I thought I’d see if you want to go for a walk instead. ”
Her brows knit together. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“Doing what?” I ask with a laugh. She doesn’t look busy, and I can’t recall many times when Poppy has blown me off.
Her lips form a thin line. “I’m…packing.”
“Oh?” I ask, wondering if she’s talking about packing for Uni in London. “I thought you were planning to live at home for the first couple of years.”
“Yeah…I erm…was going to tell you.” Her eyes flash downward. “I’m going to Goethe University in Frankfurt.”
My heart stops. Wait, she’s what? “Like…in Germany?” I ask stupidly, but the concept of her leaving seems unbelievable to me.
She exhales and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Booker. In Germany. You know how much I’ve always wanted to live there. And they have a great program for teaching German as a second language, which is what I want to do, so it’s pretty perfect for me.”
I grip the back of my neck and squeeze, completely stunned by this new information that she’s spouting out like the daily bloody news. “You’re moving there permanently?”
She shrugs. “Probably not permanently. I don’t know. I haven’t decided. They have a Master’s program there, too.”
“When do you leave?” I snap. Poppy has always been a bit nutty for Germany ever since she got hooked on the Brothers Grimm, but moving there is coming out of fucking nowhere. This is the kind of decision we usually discuss.
She swallows slowly. “One week.”
I huff out a laugh, heat pulsing through my veins. “One week! When were you planning on telling me, Poppy?”
“I was going to tell you,” she stammers and looks away from me.