Prologue Liam #2
I love Tash. I always have. And, yeah, maybe the pregnancy caught us off guard and sped things up before we were ready.
But Finn? He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
The best part of both of us. I could never resent him.
I wouldn’t be who I am without him. I rake my fingers through my hair.
“You think I stayed with you for eight years just because you fell pregnant? I loved you, Tash. I still love you. Hell, I planned a whole night for us—got you earrings and everything!”
“What?” she asks, her eyes widening.
Shoving my hand in my pocket, I pull out the small box.
She gasps as her hands fly to her mouth. “Liam.”
“You know what? Keep the damn things,” I say, dropping the box at her feet as I turn to leave.
She’s hot on my tail. “I felt neglected when we first started—” she stops herself. “You were focused on football—”
“So is Adam! It’s our bloody job!” I jab a finger in her direction.
“I have never neglected you, Tash. Don’t come at me with that.
” I start listing things off on my fingers.
“I always come home at the end of the day. I never go out with my mates. I do school drop-off and pickup. I hired a cleaner and a cook to help us. I—” I shake my head, giving in.
“You know what? I don’t need this shite. ”
Tash knew what she was signing up for when we committed to each other.
She knew I’d have to travel for games. We agreed to give my football career the best chance we could so Finn would never go without.
I did all I could to never miss a birthday, a swimming lesson, a school play.
Parent–teacher interviews. Family dinners. I always made it work.
And now she’s gone behind my back with one of my mates?
“I love you, Liam—I do. I just don’t think I’m in love with—”
“You don’t think?” I halt. “You’d better be certain if you’re abandoning your child.”
She flinches but doesn’t respond.
“Nah.” I shake my head and gesture at the house. “Fuck this. Just pack your shit and go home to Adam.”
“Wait!” Her voice is panicked. “Where are you going? To him?”
“I just want to have a word with him, Tash.”
“No!”
She’s been screwing my mate for a year and expects me to not say anything?
I don’t think so. I storm off, ignoring her pleas as I yank open the car door.
I can still hear her crying and shouting at me to stop, but her voice is muffled by the blood pounding in my ears.
I shift the gear into drive and slam my foot on the accelerator.
The tires screech as I swerve into the parking bay at the training grounds. My thoughts are a tornado.
A year.
A whole damn year she’s been cheating on me.
With Adam.
I check the time. Four o’clock. The boys should be showering and getting ready to head out by now.
“Murphy? Is that you?” the assistant coach calls from the canteen.
I don’t answer. I’m not sure I’m capable of stringing a sentence together right now without putting my fist through a wall.
I burst through the change room doors, and the entire team looks up at me, startled. “KEOGH!” My voice echoes off the concrete walls. My gaze lands on Adam’s dickhead mates—O’Leary and Reilly—and I can see the guilt written all over their traitorous faces.
“Oh, shit. He knows,” O’Leary murmurs, nudging Reilly.
“Where is he?” I ask, taking a step toward them.
Kilkenny, my closest teammate, steps forward, concerned. “Liam? What is it, mate? You look like—”
“Where. The fuck. Is he?” I repeat, my voice deadly calm as I glare at O’Leary and Reilly.
Reilly’s face goes slack as he takes a cautious step back.
“Showers,” O’Leary provides quickly, pointing toward the bathroom.
“What’s happening?” Kilkenny asks, following me as I stride through the change room. “Liam, talk to me—”
“KEOGH!” I push through the bathroom door.
Steam rises from the shower stalls.
“Murphy?” Adam calls out. “That you?”
I round the corner and there he is. Standing in front of the basins, a towel slung over his hips. He whips around and perches against the counter.
“How come you’re here? What happened to the anniversary surprise?” His mouth tips up in a cocky smirk and every memory I’ve ever had of trusting him turns sour.
“A year.” My nostrils flare. “A fucking YEAR, Keogh!”
My pulse hammers as I stare him down. His expression wavers momentarily and I see a flicker of fear in his eyes before he smooths his expression.
The fucking prick.
Suddenly I’m fifteen again. Back in that filthy kitchen. My father’s hand gripping the football I’d saved months for. His knife slashes the leather once. Twice. It hisses as it deflates. Just because he could. Just because he knew it would hurt me.
Adam’s tone is slimy. “Look, Murphy, I don’t want any bad blood between us.” He points to his chest. “She came on to me—”
I don’t let him finish. My fist connects with his jaw with a sickening crack, and he goes down. Hard.
“Liam!” Kilkenny shouts, grabbing my arm as I move in for another hit.
Adam scrambles to his feet, his towel unraveling. Blood streams from his nose, painting his mouth crimson. “You’re fucking mental!”
“You bastard!” I swing again. This time, I clock him in the ribs, and he doubles over with a loud grunt.
Footsteps pound against the polished concrete as the rest of the team rush into the bathroom. I move in for another hit but Kilkenny pulls me back before I can land another blow.
Adam straightens up, dabbing at his split lip and checking the smear of blood on his fingers. “It was over between you two!”
“Over?” I step forward. “Was it over when she was coming home to me every day? Was it over when she was sleeping in my bed? When she was fucking me? You were my friend!”
He shakes his head, sneering. “I could give her what she really needed.”
My voice drops lethally low. “Which was what, exactly?”
“Oh, shit,” Kilkenny mutters.
All I see is red. I tear Kilkenny’s hand off me. I grab Adam by the throat and slam him against the wall, the tiles cracking. I get right up in his face.
He spits a streak of blood onto the floor. “She wants me, Murphy. She loves me—”
My fist silences him, connecting with his cheekbone.
“ENOUGH!” Coach’s voice booms through the bathroom as he barrels in with several other team staff members. “MURPHY! STAND DOWN!”
But I can’t stop. Eight years. Eight years of my damn life and he’s destroyed it.
All I can see is that boy on the kitchen floor, curled tight around what’s left of his football, sobbing because it was supposed to mean everything to him.
It was supposed to help him escape his life.
I can still feel it—the biting tiles against my skin, tears streaming down my cheeks, the soft murmur of my mother’s voice as she tried to hold me together.
I land one more punch to Adam’s gut before arms clamp around me. I’m jerked backward and a body moves to stand between us. Adam collapses to the floor, groaning.
“He’s done! He’s done!” Kilkenny says, restraining me. “You have to stop, mate.”
Adam’s face is a mess. I’ve definitely broken his nose, his lip is split and bloody, and his eye is beginning to swell.
“That’s it, Murphy. I don’t care what happened to cause this outburst, but you’re off my fucking team. Get in my office. NOW!” Coach barks. “And someone get Keogh to the medical room.”
I don’t care if I never touch a football again.
He’s destroyed my family and fundamentally altered my son’s world.
He can go fuck himself.