Chapter 13
Sunday night dinner at Dad’s is madness, as usual.
Tanner and Camden try to fight me for Rocky most of the evening, but I refuse them because I’ve decided my niece is my date for the night.
Everyone is busy playing happy family around the table, but I’m not paying attention because I have the sweetest girl in the whole world right in front of me.
Rocky’s blue eyes are big and glossy as she faces me on my lap and runs her chubby fingers over the whiskers on my chin.
The touch is a little nerve-rattling, but I focus my thoughts on her fluffy blonde hair that’s tied up into a spiky ponytail atop her head.
She’s jabbering away, not making very much sense, but telling me a story that I think has something to do with an elephant, a man, and maybe her mummy.
I’m not quite sure. It’s fucking adorable, though.
I can feel my dad’s eyes on me the entire time.
I look over and see him watching Rocky with so much affection, it overwhelms me.
The way he acts with her is so night and day different from what we experienced growing up.
It’s like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out.
Does he dote over Rocky because she’s Vi’s child?
Would he be like this with my kid if I had one?
I roll my eyes at the thought. He won’t come to Manchester to watch me play a football game. He certainly wouldn’t coo over a fictitious child I will never even have.
My phone vibrates on the table, and I look around Rocky to read the text that says the cab I ordered is here. “Bye, Rock Star,” I murmur and kiss her on the cheek before handing her over to Tanner.
“Where are you going?” Tanner asks, looking up at me as I stand.
I push my chair in. “Back to Manchester.”
“You’re going back tonight?” Camden probes, walking over with a confused look on his face.
“Yep,” I reply simply and move to grab my bag. “I’ll see you guys next week.”
Dad pins me with a stare from the head of the table. “Must you go tonight?”
“Yes,” I state through clenched teeth while kissing Vi on the cheek and ignoring everyone’s concerned looks.
I’ve just opened the front door to leave when I hear my dad’s deep voice echo through the dark foyer. “Gareth, wait.”
I turn to see his large frame as he strides toward me and steps into the light streaming through the entryway. If I ever wanted an idea of what I’ll look like in twenty-odd years, I just need to look at my dad. Aside from his blue eyes and grey hair, we are identical.
His salt and pepper hair glows in the light, the shadows severe as he stands before me. “Why are you leaving tonight? It’s late.”
I shake my head at him. “Because I have things going on tomorrow.” More like I have someone coming over, so I’m actually excited to go home for once.
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something quite serious.”
“Can it wait?”
Dad frowns and ignores my request. “I want you to move back to London, Gareth.”
“What?” I ask, certain I heard him wrong.
“I want you back in London,” he says, his jaw tight, eyes serious.
“I know there’s no chance you’ll play for me again, so I’ve been talking to the manager at Arsenal.
The midseason transfer window opens up soon, and they’re looking to sell their current defender. You could play with Camden, Gareth.”
“For Arsenal?” His words nearly knock the wind out of me. I choke out a laugh. “You have got to be joking.”
“I don’t joke,” he replies firmly.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and ignore the honk of the taxi’s horn going off behind me. “Dad, why would I transfer to Arsenal? My home is in Manchester. I’m the bloody captain.”
He sighs heavily, his eyes wrinkling with clear anxiety. “Gareth, I know why you went off to Man U, but things are different now. The twins are married and there are grandbabies coming. I think it’s time you come home.”
“Manchester is my home!” I exclaim, shaking my head to ensure that I’m actually conscious. “What the fuck is this?”
“I want everyone back in London,” he nearly growls. “There are a lot of changes going on. Our family is growing. Rocky is getting bigger. Booker is going to be a father soon. I think that you should be here for the family. This is our chance to…do better.”
“Better than what?” I ask, gripping the strap of my bag on my shoulder so hard I can feel the fabric indenting in my skin.
“Better than the past, of course!” He exclaims and turns away from me to gesture up the stairs.
A chill runs up my spine as the memories of our mum’s final days flood back with a vengeance. This is a place in my mind that I don’t often tap into, and I can’t believe he’s going there with me now.
My tone is firm when I reply through clenched teeth, “I don’t need to do better, Dad.
I was there.” I thrust my finger toward the stairs like I’m pointing to a crime scene.
“You were gone, but I was there. Vi was there. We held everyone together while you disappeared into seven fucking years of mourning.”
“And you’ve never let me atone for it!” Dad nearly shouts, his voice breaking at the end. He steps closer to me and whispers, “You’ve punished me by moving away to the one place I can’t return to, and I’m tired of it.”
“Why can’t you return there?”
“Because it hurts too much!” He all but howls and his eyes glaze over. “I want a second chance with you, Gareth. Having Rocky around…Seeing your brothers settled and happy…It’s all making me realise how much I missed. You went to Manchester to get back at me, and I want that time to be over.”
Seeing his pain only stokes my own. I was a child, yet his pain mattered more than mine. That isn’t right. My fists clench at my sides when I reply, “You don’t call the shots in my life, Dad. You haven’t since the second Mum got sick and you turned your back on her.”
My words are a kick to the gut that he’s not prepared for and his face crumples with emotion. Emotion he never shows.
But I’m not done. “You want me to come back to London because of shit in the past that you still can’t own up to, and that is not my problem.”
“Gareth, I’m owning it! And I’m telling you, there’s a lot going on in the family and I…I can’t handle it all on my own. I need help around here!” He stumbles over his words and moves to touch me.
I inhale sharply and step back onto the front step, far away from his embrace. He doesn’t get to touch me. He doesn’t get to take anything more from me. Nothing’s changed. He just wants me to take over again like I did when I was a kid.
Not. Happening.
“I am only a train ride away. I’m in London weekly and I take phone calls from everyone daily. What more could you possibly need from me?”
Dad exhales heavily and lowers his shaking hands. “I don’t know.”
I nod knowingly. “Then just keep answering to Father and we can continue to play happy family on Sunday nights like we’ve been doing for years, all right?”
He swallows slowly, the familiar shield of armour coming down over his face. His emotions drift away as he steps back out of the light. “Very well,” he mumbles and turns to walk down the hall.
I see the disappointment my words have caused him, but it does nothing to top the lifetime of disappointment I’ve felt as a result of his actions.
He knows bloody well that me signing with Man U was all spurred on by him.
When I was younger, I had very little control over my career as a football player.
Dad was my manager and made all my contract decisions.
The truth is, I didn’t know how good I was until I found out about my first Premiership offer from Man City Football Club.
It was my twenty-first birthday, and I was at a night club with some mates when a veteran striker for Man City happened to be there.
He approached me and called me a fool for not accepting a multimillion-pound contract.
I asked him what bloody contract he was talking about because I certainly wasn’t making that kind of money with Bethnal.
It was then he told me about the offer his team made me the year prior.
I was stunned. I had never heard of such money because my father—my manager—apparently took it upon himself to reject the offer.
I. Was. Livid.
But I wasn’t about to confront him. I wanted a harsher punishment for someone who had the nerve to pretend he had my best interests at heart. I wanted to kick him where it counted.
So I reached out to Man U. At first, they wouldn’t take my calls.
They held a grudge against my father for breaking away from them so poorly when Mum got sick.
But they must have done some digging on my stats because I eventually got an invitation to train with them.
Not long after, I got an offer. An offer to laugh at all other offers.
It was a life-changing amount of money.
I thought about how wonderful that kind of money would be for my family. For my sister and my brothers. I could give them anything they ever wanted. Mostly, they wouldn’t need our dad anymore. They wouldn’t need to rely on him for anything. They could count on me.
With a heavy sigh, I turn to walk down the front steps and climb into the cab.
As the driver pulls away, my clothes begin to stiffen on my body.
A cold sweat breaks out, so I pull at the neckline of my shirt.
When I get a whiff of something sweet that the driver is eating, I’m overcome by a memory I’d rather forget.
8 Years Old