Chapter 14
After the mess I walked into last night at my flat, I decided to crash at Vi and Hayden’s.
I needed some space to think. To clear my head.
I wanted to stave off any more “slips” from happening with Poppy, but Belle’s request for us to bring dates got right up my nose.
Why the fuck does she think we need to bring dates to a small family wedding?
It makes no fucking sense. I have half a mind to call Tanner and bend his ear about the whole bloody thing.
It’s early when I hear Rocky stirring. Vi’s flat is a massive penthouse on the eleventh floor, but it’s only a one-bedroom.
That means Rocky sleeps in their bedroom in a cot.
I rise from the sofa in the living room and tiptoe over to their door, hoping to nip in and grab her before she wakes them.
They had a special dinner with Hayden’s family last night and were out pretty late.
I peer in through the door. Vi and Hayden are out cold in Vi’s big gothic glamour bed.
Bruce’s head pops up off the floor from where he rests, watching me as I sneak in and grab Rocky.
Her blonde hair is in wild sprays around her face, and her blue eyes are bright from a good twelve-hour night’s rest.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hold her to my bare chest and kiss her on the head. “Let’s give Mummy and Daddy a lie in.”
I walk out of the room and Bruce follows on my heels.
I flinch at his loud clacking paws on the tile, but they don’t seem to stir.
I make quick work of changing Rocky’s nappy and heating up a bottle.
Then I take her and Bruce out onto the large balcony for a morning cuddle.
Bruce can cuddle himself, the slobbering beast.
I stretch out on a lounge chair and inhale deeply as the bustling noise of a busy London Saturday morning buzz all around me. Rocky guzzles her bottle, watching me with her striking blue eyes the whole time. She looks so peaceful, so at ease with herself. She has nothing to trouble her yet.
“You’re up early,” Vi’s voice calls from the doorway.
I turn to see her shuffle out in her pyjamas complete with bunny slippers. Bruce trots over to greet her with a slobbering nuzzle as she leans down and strokes Rocky on the head. “Morning, Adrienne. How was she last night?”
I smile. “Perfect. Bloody perfect. She’s the best niece ever. I hope Tanner and Camden’s little ones are half as good when they inevitably start procreating.”
She flops down on the lounger next to me. Bruce rests his mug on her legs as she gives him a good fondle. “They will be little sods.”
“Too right,” I chuckle. “Did you guys have a nice time last night? All things considered I mean.”
She half smiles, but it looks a little sad.
“It’s always an emotional night for Hayden’s family.
I think Rocky would have been a nice reprieve for everyone, but I didn’t want to have to leave early if she decided she’d had enough.
Plus, the anniversary of Hayden’s sister’s death is extra hard on him, so I wanted to be free to be there as his partner and not a scrambling new mummy. ”
I nod with understanding and readjust the bottle in Rocky’s mouth. “How’s he doing?”
Her smile is prideful this time. “He’s good. He’s My Hayden. He amazes me every day with how much he’s overcome.” She sighs and looks out at the London skyline, the pinks of early morning sun illuminating the city. “I think it helps that fatherhood really suits him. He already wants another.”
She giggles at my dubious brow. “Marriage first maybe.”
This makes her full on belly laugh. “Oh, look at you, Mr. Moral Compass over there.”
I half smile. “Well, you’ve put off your wedding long enough. I’d just like to see you settled I guess.”
She shifts so she’s lying on her hip, facing me. “Putting it off is easier than change. Change scares me sometimes. We did so well adjusting together with Rocky, but I want to make sure we don’t overwhelm ourselves with too much too fast.”
I nod, my brow furrowed. “I can certainly sympathise.” I pull the bottle from Rocky’s mouth to sit her up for a burp.
“And what’s new with you, my baby brother?” Vi’s bunny foot kicks me in the knee as she tweaks her brows. “What’s the latest chatter on the home front?”
I frown but feel a nervous energy creep up my neck. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Vi deadpans. “Tell me. What’s going on with you and Poppy? You were shooting her some serious heat at Indie’s birthday.”
I shrug, but I know there’s no use keeping anything from Vi. She will always dig it out of me, using force if necessary. Shifting Rocky onto my shoulder, I reply, “It’s been a bit of a complicated mess with Poppy actually. We’ve had a couple slips.”
Her eyes narrow. “Slips?”
I really hope she’s not going to make me say it. “Yeah, slips. But I put a stop to them. I’m done fuc—…messing things up with her. She tried to pull a runner on me, like she did when she buggered off to Germany. I can’t let that happen.”
Vi looks at me and shakes her head. “You and your bloody abandonment issues. I still remember how much of a nightmare you were when Poppy left.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” I deny.
She scoffs. “Yes you were. Suddenly, you decided you wanted to hang with Camden and Tanner at the nightclubs and hook up with Harris Hoes like it was your job. That’s never been you. You don’t pull girls like them. You don’t Bacon Sandwich Rule.”
I roll my eyes at her reference to Camden and Tanner’s ridiculous rule about “whomever licks the bacon sandwich first, gets it”.
Bacon sandwich being a euphemism for girls.
Bloody pigs. “I didn’t do all that because of Poppy leaving or fucking abandonment issues.
” I frown and then snuggle Rocky to me as a means of an apology for my coarse language.
Vi pins me with a sad look. “You’ve always been sensitive to change and people leaving. Don’t you remember when Gareth signed with Man U?”
I scowl, immediately transported back to that awful day.
14 Years Old
“Over my dead body you’ll go to fucking Manchester,” Dad roars from the other side of the kitchen table.
I’m crouched down by the counter, hiding.
Gareth and Dad came storming in so fast, my instinct was to duck and get the hell out of the line of fire.
Fights between Dad and Gareth are common, but this one seems far more serious.
The two are at a standoff, both on either side of our long kitchen table, clutching the edges like they could snap the thick wood in half.
Both looking like a couple of bulls ready to charge each other.
Gareth’s veins pop out on his neck as he screams, “I’m twenty-one years old. I’ve signed a contract. You don’t have any say in where I live or who I play for!”
“I’m your God damned manager!” Dad exclaims.
“Were my manager.” Gareth’s upper lip curls with his words. “You’re fired, Dad. Effective immediately.”
Dad’s face shakes with barely contained fury. “You’d actually go back to that place? The place that took her from me?” His voice cracks.
I grab onto both my earlobes, tormented between covering my ears so I don’t have to listen but desperate to know what Gareth will say back.
“Manchester didn’t kill Mum. And in case you’ve forgotten, I was the one with her when she died.
Not you! And we sure as fuck weren’t in Manchester.
We were in this house. Upstairs. In the room no one can enter.
I was the one wiping her tears when she cried.
I was the one holding her hand. All you did was yell at her.
I was a fucking child, but I was more of a man than you ever were! ”
“You fucking ungrateful…” Dad shoots around the table, his hands outstretched like he’s going to rip Gareth’s head off.
Gareth doesn’t run. He straightens and stands his ground, bracing for the hit. His dark eyes are full of determination as Dad grabs him by the shirt and slams him against the wall.
Where’s Vi right now? She’s the one who always puts a stop to them. When Dad slams Gareth against the wall again, I finally decide that I have to act. I stand up and scream, “Stop!”
The two freeze instantly, turning their heads to look at me, their breaths heavy like they’ve been running for miles. Dad’s eyes blink like he just realised what he’s done. He lets go of Gareth’s shirt and steps away from him. His face contorts with pain. Agony. Defeat.
“I won’t go back there,” Dad croaks, his eyes staring down at the floor.
“I won’t go back to that place. I won’t see you play.
Not there. Not for that team.” He covers his mouth to hide his trembling jaw.
He looks old all of the sudden. Haggard.
Completely broken. He looks up at Gareth. “I’ll lose you like I lost her.”
A strange guttural sound rips from his throat, and he turns and storms out of the kitchen. Gareth calls out to him, but he doesn’t turn back.
Hearing that pain in Dad’s voice breaks something inside of me. I’ve seen signs of his agony for years, but watching him lose it like that shakes me to my core. I don’t want to lose Gareth like Dad lost Mum. I don’t want to lose anyone in my family. This is bullshit!
My anger reaches a boiling point as I charge Gareth and shove him with all of my might. He doesn’t move. “Of all the teams you can play for, you have to go there? To United?” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and sniff hard, swiping at the moisture on my cheeks.
“Booker.” Gareth’s deep voice is resigned. Sad. “There are many reasons I want to play for them.”
“Why?” I scream. “So you can show Dad that you’re better than him? A better footballer? Who gives a toss about that, Gareth? What about us?”
“What about you?” he scoffs.
“You’re just going to bugger off to Manchester and never see any of us again.”
“I’ll still see you.”
“When?” I yell and shove my hands through my hair. “Dad’s right. We’re going to lose you. We’ll never see you anymore. Everything will go to shit like it did before.”