26. Lockheart
LOCKHEART
With a swagger in my step and a smile fixed firmly on my face, I stride through my stadium, Lucky holding my hand on one side, my arm wrapped around Nico’s shoulder on the other. I’m giving them a tour of my home away from home.
For so many years, I felt more comfortable here than I did in my own house. It’s where I formed my friendships and my brotherhood with my teammates. Where I knew I was going to spend my whole career. And the one place I knew I’d never be judged.
So with Lucky showing me just how much he loves football and Heath Hampstead, I decided to show him where the magic happens as a little treat before he starts school next week. And yeah, maybe I am enjoying being one of those players who has a significant other and kids to show off to everyone.
I’m prouder than a peacock strutting through the hallways with both of them by my side. Saying hellos and how are you to people I normally scowl and grunt at. The shock on their faces at my u-turn on life is funnier than I expected it to be.
Now I know why Jaxy has so much fun in life—being unpredictable’s a blast.
Nico shoots little looks at me, she sees the difference. The carefree attitude I’m confidently exuding. I can’t help it. They make me feel smug. They’re mine and finally everyone knows it. What’s not to be proud of?
Now the press intrusion has died down, Nico’s comfortable being out in the public eye again. And Lucky is loving having his mum and dad together. The only thing he’s made us promise is not to kiss too much in front of him. Good luck with that, mate. I can’t keep my hands off her.
She’s all I want. When she’s working in the den at home, I find myself going in there to just be in her presence.
I take her coffee, water, snacks, anything to be near her.
I love to watch her type. The way her tongue pokes out between her lips when she’s concentrating.
Or how she tucks a pencil behind her ear even though she’s working on a computer.
I especially love the smile that takes over her face when she thinks of a word or line that’s perfect for whatever she’s writing.
I’ve given up reading the articles. Not because I don’t want to support her, I do, but more because I don’t want to read about me.
Now, if she wrote about her I’d be all over that.
I know they’ve been received well by the public.
I'm happy that for the first time in a long time, people aren’t speculating about how long I have left on the team anymore.
And it’s all thanks to her and her words.
Lucky beams up at me as we near the pitch, his little body cloaked in a replica shirt with Daddy twenty-two on his back, goalie gloves on his hands, and my signature scowl on his face. Maybe I should call it his signature from now on as I rarely use it anymore.
Even Brady’s saying shit about me giving Marcello a run for his money in the Mr. Sunshine stakes. I can’t help it though. This makes me happy. Being able to share my success, my accomplished dream, with someone else makes me happy.
The fact that Emilia has lined up a shitload of endorsement deals from sports drinks, razors, and hair products is pretty amazing too.
Especially when she told me she went head to head with Grayson and Brady over a few of them and won.
Brady’s pissed that the ‘old timer’ beat him to it, but he can suck it.
Apparently they jumped at the chance of having me.
Seems me playing hard to get all those years made for a very desirable commodity.
And with each article Nico writes, my popularity soars.
And I get to lord it over Brady as well. That's always a fun activity.
There’s one I’m most excited about, though—a father and son clothing line.
When she introduced the idea of matching clothes to me, I thought it was genius.
I’ve seen so many ads on social media designed for mums and daughters matching, even aunties and nieces, but never dads and their sons.
It was a great venture to be a part of. And when Nico agreed to let Lucky model them with me, I was over the moon.
Not only would this be the first professional thing I could do with my boy, but it was letting him, her, and the whole damn world know he’s mine.
“Do I really get to go out on da pitch and play?” Lucky squeaks up at me as we stand on the edge of the turf, excitement shining in his ever-expressive face.
I crouch down to look him directly in his eyes, the joy there more powerful than the solstice sun.
“Yeah, you do. Perks of being the GOAT’s son.
I also called in the cavalry.” I tip my head to the right and watch as his eyes follow.
He jumps up and down and squeals in excitement. “Go on, go get ‘em.”
He sprints over the grass to Marcello, Brady, and Bennett, running straight into Brady’s arms, then highfives Marcello and fistbumps Bennett.
A lump of emotion clogs my throat as I stand, and I struggle to clear it.
Nico snuggles into my side and I lift my arm and place it around her shoulder.
I’m thankful for the distraction before I start crying with gratitude for my teammates, my brothers, and Lucky’s uncles.
“He’s lucky to have them… and you.” Nico waves to our son while I place a kiss on the top of her head.
Pulling her into my arms, I revel in the warmth and comfort she’s brought to my life.
“We’re lucky to have you too. Now excuse me, while I show our boy how to be the best goalie there ever was.
” I untangle myself from Nico’s limbs and start to jog onto the pitch when I hear her footsteps next to me. “Nico?”
She runs ahead of me, turns around, and jogs backward whilst I’m frozen in shock. “You seriously think I’m letting you two have all the fun? You think you can stop me, Lockheart?”
She turns and sprints away and I’m left grinning like a loon at my whiskey girl on my home turf.
“Not you again, Lucky. Or should I call you klutzy instead?” Dr. Sheen jokes with him as he chuckles on my lap.
“We didn’t need to bother you, Lily. Lucky’s fine. Just a couple of grazed knees, but that’s what he gets for copying Jaxson’s celebrations,” Nico scolds as Lucky and I share an eyeroll and a grin.
“First rule of playing for Heath Hampstead, kiddo. Never, ever copy Brady. Ever.” Doc pulls a face that has my boy laughing from his belly, which completely relaxes him and he stretches out his knees for her to examine without a care in the world.
“But I got to score against Daddy. And he’s da best goalie in da world. It needed a good celebration.” I squeeze him a little tighter to show my appreciation, but he just giggles louder. “You’re squishing me, Daddy.”
“Oh, sorry, Boy. I didn’t realise. And if you managed to score past me, then that must make you the best striker in the world. You sure you want to play in goal like me?”
He nods his head while Doc scoots around on her stool and slides it across the floor without getting up. She slides back with the gauze, antiseptic wipes and plasters. She must notice Lucky’s eyes get wider because she smiles gently and when she speaks her voice is calming and soothing.
“Lucky, tell me about school while I clean these up for you. You’re starting a new one soon, right? What’s it called?”
She gets to work as Lucky tells her all about his new school. “It’s a private school. I’mma little nervous but I’mma be alright. It’s got a uniform and Mum says I look handsome in it. Erm, I forgot what it’s called. Mumma, what’s it called again?”
“Little Heath Academy. And you’re handsome full stop, baby.”
“Ah thanks, Nico. But I think Lucky needed the compliment, not me,” I shoot over Lucky’s head and wink when I catch her rolling her eyes in unison with Doc.
“So when do you start? It’s got to be soon, right?” Doc swipes an antiseptic wipe over the second knee and Lucky flinches against my chest.
“Yeah, next week. What day again, Mumma?” he says through a grimace and exhales a breath as she puts the plaster on.
“Monday. What do you say to Dr. Sheen?” Nico smiles in appreciation at Doc as Lucky says thank you and gives her a hug.
“Well not only are you the best footballer I’ve ever had in my treatment room, but you’re also the best hugger too. Thank you.”
Lucky bounds out of the room with Nico following closely behind him and I stand and offer my hand to Doc. She hesitates for a split second, her face looking a little worried, and with a blink of an eye she's grasping my hand and smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“Look after him, he’s a good boy. Now get out of here. You’ve spent enough time in this room over the years.”
I throw a salute her way and duck out of the room, praying I never have to go back in there. She knows as well as I do, one more injury will probably spell the end of my footballing career.
But instead of sending a wave of fear through me, I barely get a bit of dread. Maybe now that I have something at home waiting for me, being there more doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.