Chapter 15
KAI
When Callum asked to go shop on the lift home again, I found myself thinking of Alex.
We weren’t sure whether to go in because of Alfie, but then we decided we weren’t letting him ruin our local for us. We’d been going there for years. It was ours long before he started hanging around, and it was the only place that didn’t ID Callum for cigarettes and booze.
As I walked through the shop, I caught myself glancing around corners, checking the aisles, looking toward the fridges at the back - searching for any sign of Alex. Even though I knew he wouldn’t be there. Not after the way he’d said he couldn’t go in yesterday. There was just something about it.
Still, I looked anyway.
And still, I felt that stupid little drop in my stomach when we left without seeing him.
It was ridiculous. I knew that. I barely knew the guy. We’d spoken properly for, what, an hour?
But something about him stuck in my head.
Even now, on my treadmill, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I was two kilometres in - the point where my brain normally switched into autopilot, where all I cared about was my pace, my breathing, the next match, the next drill. That was how it always went. Running was supposed to clear my head.
But for some reason, all I could think about was that brown-haired boy.
I pushed the speed up, trying to outrun it - outrun him - but it didn’t work. If anything, it made it worse. His face kept flashing in my mind, those cuts on his cheek, the way he held his ribs like he was trying not to fall apart.
Then the sound of the key turning downstairs tore me out of my head.
“Kai, honey, you in?” Mum called up the stairs.
“Yeah, Mum,” I called back, slowing the treadmill to a walk before hopping off. I grabbed the towel draped over the handle, dabbed my forehead, then slung it around my neck.
I made my way down the spiral stairs, spotting Mum struggling with two shopping bags while trying to nudge the door shut with her hip.
She was still in her blue nurse’s uniform, hair pulled into a loose ponytail with two strands falling at the front - one tucked neatly behind her ear, the other escaping like it always did.
“Why don’t you ask me for help?” I shook my head, carrying them into the kitchen.
“Because I am an independent woman capable of taking my shopping in,” she said, tucking her blonde fringe behind her ear with a dramatic little flick.
“I know that, Mum,” I said, grinning. “But you can still be an independent woman and ask your son for help.”
I started unpacking the bags for her, sliding things into cupboards and the fridge.
“I know, honey. I forget how big and strong you are now. In my mind, you’re still a baby.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. Then she recoiled. “Ugh. You’re all sweaty.”
“I was in the middle of training.” I laughed.
Mum rolled her eyes fondly and started sorting through the rest of the shopping. “Training? I thought that boy was coming over… for studying? What was his name, Alan?”
“Alex,” I corrected, rolling my eyes. Her memory was shocking sometimes.
“That’s the one.” She barely looked up as she reached for the Nescafé and tried to shove it onto the top shelf. Before she could wobble on her toes, I took it from her and placed it in the cupboard myself.
“Why you put the coffee on the top shelf, I’ll never know,” I said, shaking my head.
“Because it’s above the kettle,” she huffed, like that explained everything. “So tell me then. Why aren’t you studying?”
“We did it at lunch instead. Alex was busy tonight,” I said with a shrug.
Busy . For some reason it felt like an excuse, and I took it personally.
Had I done something wrong? Was it the almost-scrap with Alfie? Or the egg disaster?
I felt like I’d screwed up in more ways than one. Mentally facepalming just thinking about it. He said he was okay with it, but how okay can anyone really be about being thrown to the floor and covered in raw egg?
“Okay, pet,” Mum smiled. “Was it successful?”
“Huh?” My thoughts had been too loud, and I realised I’d been staring out the window.
“The study session,” she repeated, clicking the kettle on. “Did you get everything you needed done?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I nodded, pulling myself back. “It was good, but we’re nowhere near finished. It’s like a six-week project.”
I grabbed two mugs, dropped tea bags and sugar in them.
“Six weeks? I always think I miss my school days, but then you tell me something like that.” She chuckled. “Couldn’t pay me to go back.”
The kettle clicked off and she poured the water into both cups.
“It’s not that bad,” I laughed. Then, without thinking, “Alex is kind of cool.”
“Really?” She opened the biscuit tin, grabbed two chocolate digestives, then slid it toward me. “You should invite him round for tea one night.”
“Uh… I don’t know. I don’t think we’re close enough for that,” I said quickly.
It wasn’t even just that. I mean, we weren’t close - we’d spoken for maybe two hours total since we’d met, and half of that was barely full sentences. But that wasn’t the real reason.
The real reason was… I didn’t think he’d want to come.
“That’s how you get close,” she laughed, nudging the biscuits closer. “You know what Grandma says - you never really know someone until you-”
“See how they eat, I know,” I finished for her, smiling. “But I don’t think Grandma is one to go off. You know how Grandpa eats.”
The image came to me instantly - Grandpa hunched over his plate like he was defending it from predators, shovelling food in like he hadn’t eaten in days.
Making a mess of the tablecloth every single time.
And somehow always ending up with something stuck to his chin, which, when you pointed it out, he’d say he was saving for later .
Mum snorted, shaking her head “That’s exactly why she says it.” She laughed, pushing the tin toward me again.
I slid it back. “One biscuit won’t kill you, darling,” she said, eyebrows knitting together.
“You know I’m serious about training.” I deadpanned.
“Oh, I know…” Her voice softened. “Your father was the same. But even he had a biscuit from time to time.” She chuckled at the end.
“Yeah, but this year really matters. The scouts could be at any one of our matches. I need them to see me at my best if I’m gonna go pro.
” I enthused, even though she already knew.
She’d noticed me spending more time in the gym, training harder, pushing myself.
She just didn’t take it as seriously as I did.
She wanted me to be a teenager - to let loose, to breathe - but I couldn’t. Not the way she meant.
She dunked her biscuit in her tea. “Darling, say the word, and I can ring John up. You know there’s always a place for you at your dad’s old training ground. John said you can come by anytime.” She said, taking a bite of the biscuit.
“We’ve been over this, Mum,” I said with a sigh. “I want to get in because I’m the best, not because of my last name. I need to do this myself.”
“I know, love.”
Her eyes sparkled - not with humour this time, but with unshed tears.
And just like that, the kitchen felt smaller. Quieter. Full of things neither of us said out loud.
I swallowed, the warmth of the tea mug grounding me.
“Mum…” I said gently.
She blinked quickly, brushing it off with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just… you remind me of him so much it scares me sometimes. He’d be so proud of you, you know.”
“I know, Mum,” I said, wrapping an arm around her. “I miss him too.”
She leaned into me for a moment - just long enough for me to feel how tired she was, how much she still carried - before she pulled away and straightened her shoulders.
“Right, none of that,” she said, wiping under her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s enough moping. Your father wouldn’t want us to be sad.”
Her voice wobbled, just slightly, before she forced it steady again.
I nodded, even though a part of me wanted to pull her back in. But she hated being fussed over. Hated feeling fragile. She’d always been the strong one - the one who held everything together when the rest of us couldn’t.
She busied herself with the mugs, stirring the tea like it gave her something solid to hold onto. The kitchen felt warm, familiar, but heavy in a way it only got when Dad came up in conversation.
I leaned against the counter, towel still around my neck, watching her quietly.
She was right - Dad wouldn’t have wanted us sad. But missing him wasn’t something you could just switch off. It crept in at moments like this, soft and sudden.
Then my phone started vibrating in my pocket.
I pulled it out, sighed at the name on the screen. Callum. Of course. He always managed to call at the exact worst moment.
“Can you not go an hour without pestering me?” I said, picking up with a chuckle as I shifted my weight against the counter.
“You love it,” he shot back immediately, like he’d been waiting for the cue.
“I don’t,” I countered, though the grin tugging at my mouth said otherwise.
“You do. Now hop on Xbox.” He demanded it like a doctor prescribing medicine.
I chuckled, rolling my eyes as I reached for my mug. “I’m busy.”
“I need you. Some little kid just thrashed the life out of me and I need my best player to put him in his place.”
“You really need to stop arguing with kids online,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
“They wind me up, lad.”
“Everything winds you up.”
“Look, let’s stop this bullshit little dance we always do,” he said, slipping into his dramatic voice as I wandered toward the sink. “You know the one where you say no and then I wear you down until you eventually jump on Xbox. So just jump on Xbox.”
I rolled my eyes again, leaning back against the counter. He wasn’t wrong - this was exactly how it always went. He’d nag, I’d resist, he’d nag more, and eventually I’d give in just to shut him up.
“What game?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“COD.”
“Alright, give me five minutes,” I said, pushing off the counter and heading for the stairs.
“Two,” Callum shot back instantly.
“Four. Don’t push your luck.”
“Three.”
“Fuck off,” I said with a laugh, hanging up before he could squeeze another number in.
I picked up my tea and headed toward my room, the warmth of the mug seeping into my fingers.
“Thanks for the tea, Mum,” I called over my shoulder. She’d migrated to the open-plan living room, feet up on the sofa, flicking through channels with a biscuit dangling from her mouth.
“I’m going to play Xbox with Callum.”
“Okay, love,” she said, glancing back at me. “Don’t be up too late on it. I know what you boys are like.”
“I won’t,” I said flatly, knowing full well she was probably spot on.
“And tell Callum I said hi,” she added, waving the biscuit like a wand. “He’s a lovely lad.”
Lovely lad.
I laughed to myself as I climbed the stairs. If only she knew him how I did.