Chapter 11 Tieran #2
It was the only time I could get dad to have a conversation with me, and it set a precedent; rugby was equal to dad’s attention. I was used to it now—had mostly accepted it, and in turn he was used to me being a professional player. The novelty wore off for the both of us, I guess.
“Alright you two,” Mum yells out at the remaining family members currently petting an all too pleased pup, “dinner’s ready, so get in here and serve yourself.”
Everyone’s sat down, tucking into their food and lulled into a false sense of security, when the questions start.
“How are things with the Legends? Do you like the new owner?” Dad asks, expression inscrutable.
I have yet to actually tell my family who the new owner is, and I certainly won’t be divulging just how much I like her.
“Uh, yeah, it’s good. The guys are training really hard, and McKallen seems to genuinely care about the club.” I stuff my mouth full of roasted carrots.
“And how are you doing after the last match loss?” Mum asks gently.
“I’m managing. Don’t worry, Mum,” I try to reassure her, but she tuts, giving me those typical Mum eyes that are soft but that also say she’s trying very hard not to pry out of worry.
“Have any National scouts come to the games yet?” Dad asks around the roast he just bit into, not meeting my eyes, distracted by the match playing in the adjoining room.
“I think it’s too early for that.” I take a sip of my water to wash down the food that’s turned to ash on my tongue. “They’ll probably start coming in a few weeks to see if anyone catches their eye, but I haven’t been playing my best, so that’s not likely to be me.”
Mum sniffs. “I blame that tart Olivia.”
“Mum,” I chide.
Harriet remains unfettered and soldiers on.
“It’s true. I never did like her. I could sense there was something off about her, probably all the peroxide seeping into her scalp, making her stupid.
To cheat on you was already horrible, but then to publicly humiliate you like that?
She’s why you struggled last season.” Mum is getting visibly heated, death-gripping her fork while she stabs at her roast, sawing into it with her knife.
I put my hand on top of hers to get her to stop. “Mum, it’s fine,” she starts to argue, but I stop her. “Olivia and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Her cheating just sped up the inevitable. Now please, the cow is already dead—stop trying to kill it further.” I release her hand reluctantly.
“Alright,” she takes a deep breath. “But I heard a rumor she’s auditioning for the next season of Love Island, and I swear on Princess Di, if she makes it through and isn’t universally hated by everyone in the UK, I will riot.”
I don’t know if that’s actually true. The last I heard, she was still with Hughes. She’d have to be single to go on Love Island, and that made me feel conflicted. On one hand, I’d be chuffed if they split, but I also don’t want her to ruin a perfectly good season of my favourite show.
“Sure thing, Mum.” She was likely to post furiously about it to her Facebook and nothing more. “Enough about me. Why don’t we grill Charlie now?” I look at her across the table and smile.
“Oh, I don’t have anything going on quite as interesting as you do, dear brother.” The smile on her face is so devious, Disney should consider casting her as a villain in their next live action.
“Surely that’s not true. A fourth year at uni must have loads of stories and updates. How are classes? Dating anyone special?
She kicks my leg under the dinner table, and it takes everything in me not to grunt at the assault.
I deserved it. I was treading dangerously close to sibling secret territory, because Charlie was dating someone special, at least to her, but it was definitely an off limits conversation.
The guy is a professor at her school, and neither of our parents would approve of that.
Hell, I don’t think I’m too keen on it either, but as long as she’s being safe, who am I to judge?
“I’m not. But aren’t you?” It's a genius way to get the heat off her, because my mother’s ears perk up at the small kernel of information.
I don’t know why she thinks I’m dating anyone, not unless she was reading tabloids at Tesco again.
She knows better than to believe any of that rubbish.
According to those rags, I’m dating anyone from the barista who took my order to the food truck guy who sits parked outside my gym.
Spoiler, I’m not looking longingly at Frank—I’m eye fucking the kebab he overloads with garlic sauce.
“Darling, are you seeing someone new?” The excitement in Mum’s voice almost makes me want to lie and say yes just to make her happy.
“He was chatting up some smoke show at the grocery shop a few weeks back. It looked quite cozy and familiar.”
Fuck, she’s talking about Jade?
“That’s not—” I scrub a hand down my face. “She’s my boss, not my girlfriend.” Though I certainly wouldn’t mind the latter option. “Her dad lives around here, and we ran into her that day, that’s all. There was nothing more to it.”
“That’s not what it looked like from where I stood,” Charlie unhelpfully chimes in.
“Well, get your eyes checked, dear sister, because that’s all it was.” Now, it's my turn to kick her under the table, but all I get is air. The menace has her legs crossed on the chair and not sitting on the floor. She smiles and winks at me.
I’ll kill you, I mouth in her direction.
You can try, she mouths back.
“That probably for the best; workplace rendezvous can be messy, and you want to stay focused on the coming matches,” Dad chimes in finally. “Might not be a good look to National scouts if the captain is shagging the owner of the club.”
“Oh dear.” Mum chokes on her bite of parsnip.
I would love nothing more than to start banging my head on the table until I pass out, or die from an inoperable brain injury. Anything to get us to move on from this topic.
“Can you pass the gravy?” is all I ask instead.