7. Lockheart
LOCKHEART
I was supposed to give her time. Was supposed to see if she would tell me without me having to ask. But when she started to try to fob me off and get rid of me, my restraint slipped and I just came out with it.
Her face is deathly pale as she fidgets with the hem of her top. Her beautiful whiskey-coloured eyes dart around, looking at anything that's not me. She opens her mouth and closes it again, obviously trying to decide what to say and second guessing everything that comes to her mind.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” I try to soften my voice a touch and she gives me a small smile for it.
“I didn’t lie to you, Owen. When I told you it was safe it was because I believed it was. I had the implant, but apparently certain medication and stuff makes it less effective, and I didn’t know that.” She lowers her head and takes a deep breath.
“What medication were you taking?” My voice is even softer, almost gentle this time. I’m beyond furious about this fucked up situation, but I also recognize she didn’t do this on purpose. Why would she add a kid into her already messed up situation with her dad?
“St John’s Wort. It’s an herbal medicine to help with depression. I was… I…” She swipes an errant tear away from her cheek and I can’t stand back any longer.
I stride over to her side and sit next to her. Close enough to touch her knee. She turns her face away from me, and I let her, even though I want to see her eyes when she talks. They’ll tell me so much more than her words.
“My dad had just gotten involved with another loan shark and I was working to pay the bills and his debts. I was existing. Not living, but too proud to go to the doctor and ask for help. I ordered the pills online and was able to take them without anyone knowing. I’m so sorry.”
I squeeze her knee in support and try to encourage her to keep talking. She takes another deep breath and turns her body toward me but averts her eyes.
“When I met you, I was supposed to be somewhere else. Propositioning a celebrity into cheating on his girlfriend and then writing the story. When I refused, I thought my editor would get the picture. That I wanted to be a serious journalist. It was the second time I’d refused to write a piece of sensationalist crap—the first story on you and then this one.
But instead of letting it go, he wrote that pile of shit story that was all lies about you using my name.
Maybe it was a punishment for not bending to his will. I don’t know.
After we— in your car— our last meeting, I went back into the office and quit. I’d rather take on loan sharks than have to deal with him anymore.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat knowing that she quit her job, leaving her in a worse situation than she was in before. And I’d called her a fucking whore and questioned her morals. I hang my head a little but stay silent, I need to know what happened next, why she kept Lucky from me.
“I didn’t know you’d be there, at the club.
My friend was working as security and he let me in the VIP section to just chill for a bit.
I did lie when I said I didn’t know who you were.
I knew you, but not because I wrote that story or because I was a journalist, but because I…
I… Ihadahugecrushonyou.” She says the last bit fast like it's all one word and I grin inanely at her. “It’s not funny, Owen.”
She flashes her eyes at me and flames burn in them. I like seeing them alive like that. It takes me back to that night in the club when she was all confidence and sass. I like knowing she’s still there.
“I’m not laughing. I find it cute.” She shoots daggers at me through her eyes and I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. But don’t worry, I felt the same way.”
“Well good.” She says and flips her hair over her shoulder, her cheeks turning pink. “When you accused me of, well, you know, it knocked me for six. I knew why you did, how it looked. But it hurt.”
She pauses and the guilt threatens to consume me. I let my knee bounce and silently curse Jaxson Brady because I picked this trait up from him, the little shit.
“I had no money, no job, and loan sharks pounding on my door. I managed to pay off the last bit, but it left me broke and unable to cover my rent. Luckily I found a job quickly and it was with a better company. I was able to write what I wanted and started using my real name. I didn’t want any connections to or comparisons with the crap associated with Nic. ”
She spits the name out, venom coating it. And even though I hate it too, I feel bad that a persona she created for herself was used the way it was.
“When I realised I was pregnant with Lucky, my first thought was how do I get in touch with you. I was terrified to face you again, but I still tried.”
I take my hand off her knee and lean forward, my head hanging down. “You were scared of me. Of what my reaction would be.” I blow out a breath whilst waiting for her reply.
“I was worried you’d think I’d done it on purpose.
Trapped you. You already thought so little of me.
And I was scared you’d take him away from me.
You had everything and I had nothing. You knew about my dad, the environment he created, and you had all this money and fame and high-priced lawyers.
And Lucky was the only good thing I had. But I still tried.”
I know she’s crying. I can hear the sniffles and the wobble in her voice.
But I can’t bring myself to comfort her.
I know what she’s saying is all true. I did think badly of her and would have thought she’d done it on purpose.
I can’t even say I wouldn’t have tried to get custody of him, because back then I was fuming with her.
But I think it was because I still fucking wanted her so much.
Even after I thought she’d betrayed me, lied to me and screwed me over, I still fucking wanted her.
It’s why I couldn’t drink Glenfiddich—it reminded me of her and our first night together.
Knowing now I could have been with her, raising our kid together, is making me so confused.
I’m pissed. Pissed at her, pissed at me, and pissed at the fucking world.
But I’m also happy. Happy that if I had to have a son with anyone that it's with her. Happy that my boy looks content and well cared for. Loved. That he has her smile but my eyes. Ecstatic that he likes football and supports Heath Hampstead as well, because that could have been awkward. I’m also proud that out of all the players on that pitch he chose me to be his favourite.
Without even knowing our connection, he chose me.
I just hope he chooses me again when the time comes for him to know I’m his dad.
“I’m sorry, Owen. I just want you to know that I tried.
I went to your apartment, but they told me you moved out.
I tried calling, but your number was disconnected.
And when I came to the training ground, I was kicked out.
‘Nic Moran’ wasn’t wanted there. I wanted you to be a part of his life.
I wanted you there for every step. Even though I was angry at you, I wanted you there.
“When you signed with Mavericks I thought my chance was finally here. Especially when Emilia reached out for Cleo. But I was so scared you’d take him from me. I knew you could have given him the world when all I could give him was me.”
“Nico.” I wince when she startles at my use of the name, but carry on.
I need her to hear me out now. “My mum was the most important person in my life, and I couldn’t have cared less if she’d been a millionaire or the poorest woman in the world.
She was my mum. She loved me, taught me, comforted me.
She made me the person I am today, and I will always be grateful to her.
She loved me, and that's all I needed. You are everything to that little boy.
And, yeah, I'm pissed I didn't get a chance to be there for him, but I'm so glad he had you as his mum.” I grip her hand and she brings her tear stained gaze to mine and smiles.
“Thank you,” she whispers through her emotions, and I give her a minute to regain her composure while my mind makes decisions without thinking them through.
“You need to pack your stuff.” The urgency in my tone takes me by surprise as much as it does her.
Her brows shoot up. “What?” She’s clearly shocked and my head is screaming at me to slow down, but my heart is hammering in my chest, telling me this is the right thing to do.
“You and Lucky, you need to pack. You’ll move into my house.” I’m not asking, I’m demanding with as much authority in my voice I’m beginning to question if I need to get Dr. Sheen back in here to examine me.
“Owen, we’re not moving into your house. What are you talking about?” She stands up, shaking her head and laughing through her shock.
I look at her with determination in my glare but my voice is gentle.
“Five years. I can’t get them back, Nico.
I want to know my son. And you need to be safe.
This place won’t be once the news breaks that he’s mine.
You’re a journalist, you know what they’ll be like.
My house is secure, safe. There’ll be no issues at all.
” I lean back on her sofa and extend my arm across the back, trying to play off laid back vibes whilst my head screams at me for being an idiot.
“Owen, you can’t just expect me to pack my stuff up and move in with you.
I’m sorry, but no. I know you’ve missed out on Lucky, but you can still see him, build a relationship with him.
We don’t need to live with you for that to happen.
And before you start again about journalists, I’ve managed to keep this secret to myself for years, why would it be in the papers now? ”