Chapter 57 #2
“He sounds really amazing,” I said, an honest smile on my face.
“He was.” Kai breathed the words out like they hurt. “I don’t know why, but I always thought once I made it - once I got to his level in football - I’d be close to him again. Like if I could retrace his steps, do the things he did, I’d feel whole. And I wouldn’t miss him anymore.”
There was something raw in his voice, something he probably didn’t let anyone hear.
“Do you not feel like that anymore?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head, slow and defeated. “There are four schools interested in me. Four chances at the big leagues.” His fingers curled into fists on his knees, knuckles whitening.
“But it’s like… the closer I get, the more it feels like he’s drifting away.
The more I realise he’s never going to see me play. ”
A single tear slipped down his cheek.
“I used to play for him,” he whispered. “I used to feel him there with me on the pitch. But lately…” He swallowed, throat working hard.
“Lately, I haven’t been thinking about him as much.
I haven’t been feeling him with me. I can’t even remember him, really.
Bits and pieces are gone. Memories I never thought I’d let go of. ”
His voice cracked - barely, but enough to make my chest tighten.
“And now Mum’s selling the house and I…” He stopped, jaw tightening, breath catching like he’d hit a wall he didn’t know how to climb.
I watched him stare at the ground, shoulders hunched, like the weight of everything was pressing down on him at once.
The night air felt colder suddenly, sharper, like it was cutting around the edges of him.
“You won’t forget him, Kai,” I comforted, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “And if you do, just look in the mirror. He’s right there.”
I pointed at his face, and he let out a laugh - small, surprised, almost disbelieving.
“You think I look like him?” he asked, eyes flicking up to mine, searching for something he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear.
I nodded. “That picture in your room… I thought it was you at first.”
He stared at the ground, smiling through the sadness. “He used to say I was his little shadow.” He laughed softly. “Guess I still am.”
I watched him smile through the sadness, and it hit me harder than I expected. “He must’ve loved you a lot.”
He smiled to himself, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand before turning back to me. “You still don’t want to find your dad?”
I let out a slow sigh, the kind that felt like it came from somewhere deep. “I don’t want to be let down.”
I’d been let down too many times before.
“Yeah, that’s understandable.” Kai nodded, the movement soft and earnest. “But what if you’re not?” He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, like the possibility wasn’t as terrifying as it felt. “What if he surprises you?”
I huffed out a breath, raising my eyebrows. “You’ve met my mum.”
The words came out sharper than I meant, but I didn’t take them back. Kai’s expression shifted immediately - the drunken haze didn’t stop him from catching the bitterness underneath. His brows pulled together, not in pity, but in something gentler. Something protective.
He let out a breath, eyes warm and unfocused. “Just because she failed you doesn’t mean he will.” He said it like it was the simplest truth in the world.
I swallowed, feeling something warm and uncomfortable settle in my chest. “I wish I could believe that.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “People don’t just… show up for me, Kai.”
A beat. My throat tightened.
“They never have.”
For a moment, the night felt too quiet - like even the wind was holding its breath.
Kai’s expression shifted, the drunken haze clearing just enough for something sharper, more focused, to break through. His brows pulled together, not in pity, but in that fierce, instinctive way he got whenever he thought someone had hurt me.
He turned fully toward me, knee brushing mine, his voice low and steady.
“Alex,” he said, like he was saying my name for the first time. “I’m here.”
The words weren’t loud. They weren’t dramatic. But they hit like a punch to the ribs - simple, undeniable, impossible to dodge.
He blinked, eyes glassy but sincere.
“I’m right here,” he repeated, softer this time, like he needed me to hear it. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
He let his hand settle over mine, his palm warm, his thumb resting lightly against my skin. The touch wasn’t firm, but it was sure. Like he was anchoring me without trapping me.
I whispered it before I could stop myself. “Thank you.”
Just that.
But it felt huge.
His arm lifted over my shoulder, warm and steady, and he pulled me gently into his chest. The movement was so natural, so unthinking, that it knocked the breath out of me more than the closeness did.
Nestled against him like that, with only the blanket of night wrapped around us, I felt…
safe. Safer than I had any right to feel.
Like here, in his arms, I could let the armour slip. Like if I jumped, he really would catch me.
“Do you think we would’ve ended up together if Miss King hadn’t sat us together?” I asked, the words leaving me on a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I’m glad she did.”
Before I could reply, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. It was barely there - a brush of warmth - but my eyes fluttered shut anyway. The exhaustion hit me all at once, heavy and sudden, like my body had been waiting for permission to feel it.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you home.” He nudged me gently, his arm still wrapped around my shoulders, guiding me like he didn’t want to let go.
But the word home made something cold and heavy settle in my stomach, sinking like stones.
“Do you think we can sit here just a little while longer?” I asked, my voice small, almost embarrassed by how much I needed the safety of him right then.
“Of course,” he said immediately.
His breath deepened, the tension around his body easing as he pulled me closer, like he was settling into the moment too. His arm held me in that steady, protective way that made the rest of the world feel far away.
So we stayed there - pressed together under the fading stars - the night thinning around us as the sky softened from black to blue.
At some point, without either of us meaning to, slumber crept in.
My head grew heavier against his chest. His breathing evened out against my hair.
And wrapped in his arms, with dawn brushing the horizon, we drifted into sleep - not because we meant to, but because for the first time in a long time, it felt safe enough to.