Chapter 37
‘I’m sorry.’ The words fell from my lips on a broken exhale.
Oliver stood to my left. I sat on a lumpy chair beside the bed of someone who looked like a hollow scooped out version of my father.
The doctor had come in not long ago, giving us the news.
The blockage in his heart was fixed and he should make a full recovery. In time.
The tubes coming out of what looked like every vein of his body tugged as he lifted a weary palm, resting it on the top of my hand that was gripping the bed sheets tightly.
‘Why? You didn’t give me the heart attack, did ya?’
Oliver let out a watery laugh.
I swiped a hand down my cheeks, a reluctant smile pulling at my lips.
‘Sorry I wasn’t there.’ I wove our fingers together, gripping his hand as gently as I dared.
‘I’m seventy-eight. Bound to get in a few scrapes. But now that I’ve got you both here, I want a word with you both.’
‘You could have called.’ Oliver said with a grim smile.
‘Thought you boys needed a bit more drama in your life,’ dad chuckled.
‘It can wait until you feel better,’ I started, stopping when his chin dipped and those dark blue eyes fixed us both with a stern glare.
‘It’s not very often I see you both in the same room when I'm the centre of attention. Now shut up or I’ll have another attack out of spite.’
We both wisely kept our mouths sealed.
‘I’m no fool. You both have been dealing with a lot lately.
I thought I’d wait for you to tell me, but this ticker apparently had other plans.
’ He waved a hand across his chest like having a heart attack inconvenienced his plans.
‘So you’re both gonna sit down and tell me what I already know, but you won’t say. ’
He pointed to the sofa in the corner behind Oliver. ‘Sit.’
Like he was ten years old again, being told off for trampling mud over the house. My brother sat, lips pressed into a thin line.
‘Who wants to go first?’ His eyes danced from me to Oliver.
I shuffled back in my chair, back tense. ‘Uh, Dad, what are you on about?’
‘Cora’s is going under, isn't it?’ His eyes softened at the surprise on my face.
‘George?’ Oliver got to his feet. ‘What the fuck’s he on about?’
I scratched my jaw, shaking my head. ‘I’m handling it.’ Dad’s steel-grey eyes bore into mine. ‘How long have you known?’ I asked quietly.
‘A few weeks,’ he admitted. ‘I wanted to see if you’d come to me for help.’
Oliver stalked over and punched me in the shoulder. ‘Why the hell didn’t you come to me? I’ll give you the damn money.’
I rose to my feet, shoving him back. ‘No. It’s my shit to sort out. I’ve got it.’ Anger mixed with grief swirled in Oliver’s eyes, slicing my heart in two. His mouth opened, ready to lay a verbal diatribe of fury at my feet, when Dad spoke.
‘Before you boys take a slug at each other in my hospital room, I’m not finished.’ His attention turned to Oliver. ‘You got something to say, or shall I do it for you?’
In a flash, Oliver’s anger dropped to the floor like broken glass. His gaze right alongside it.
My brow furrowed. ‘What’s he talking about?’
Oliver sighed heavily, lifting his gaze to Dad who, despite having just had surgery, looked stronger than ever. ‘I’m retiring.’
Two words sent me stumbling back.
Oliver lived and breathed football. It was his entire world—until Fallon entered the picture and shook it all up. He’d managed to scramble back his career after the scandal and had played an impressive season. It was almost unfathomable that he would decide to give it all up.
‘Why? You love it.’
He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘Yeah, I do. But I love something else more.’ At that, a smile creased his face.
‘Is Fallon pressuring you to retire?’ Although as I said that, the words didn’t feel right.
His head shook quickly. ‘God, no. In fact, she thinks I’m insane. And several other colourful words I won’t repeat.’ Dad chuckled softly from the bed.
My hands lifted helplessly. ‘Then why?’
Oliver took a deep breath. ‘I want more, man. I want to build a life with her that doesn’t involve being followed by paps and being stalked whenever we go to the fucking shops.
I’ve had a good career. Better than most. But I’m ready for a new start.
I want to find out who I am outside of the game. I want a family.’
The resolution in his expression floored me.
This wasn’t a whim. Something he’d thought about for a second and rushed into the decision.
The harsh set of his jaw told me he was serious.
The frustration I might have felt disappeared in an instant.
‘Shit. Why didn’t you tell me you were considering retiring?
’ Of all the things he’d told me about his life, I couldn’t deny the pinch of hurt in my gut that he’d kept something this big to himself.
At my genuinely stupefied expression, Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t you feel that’s a tad hypocritical coming from you right now?’
‘That’s not the same thing.’ I tried to argue, but my words trailed off. I reached up to cup the back of my neck, eyes darting to the floor. ‘Fuck, maybe it is.’
Silence settled between us for a few moments before Oliver stepped forward, clasping my shoulder, voice dropping low with conviction.
‘You could have come to me. We could have figured all of this out together. You don’t have to be the one to deal with everything alone.
’ I mirrored his gesture, feeling his solid muscle beneath my palm.
We might have grown up in the same house and both gone through similar things in our youth, but we were miles apart in how we dealt with life.
Oliver attacked problems with the ferocity that can make your head spin.
Good and bad, his passion is what drives most of his actions.
Whereas I preferred to figure things out in solitude. Using crossed fingers and flimsy hope to get me to the other side.
‘Now that’s sorted, I’d rather neither of you wait until I’m on my deathbed to have a conversation again.’ Dad shuffled on the bed, placing one hand on top of the other on his stomach. Looking exactly like he used to when we were kids and we were up to no good.
Oliver’s shoulders shook with laughter. ‘I’ll do my best.’ Drawing me in for a hug, he clapped me heartly on the back. Pulling back, he glanced at Dad. ‘I’m gonna go get Fallon. She’ll want to see you.’
‘Oh, can you pick me up a paper when you come back? As intrigued as I am about a program called Love Island, I can’t imagine it being something I’ll overly enjoy,’ he said, waving at the TV flickering in the corner of the room.
Giving a two-fingered salute, Oliver slipped out of the room. I sank back into the chair next to dad’s bed, feeling like I could finally draw in a deep breath for the first time in months.
‘Anything else you want to tell me?’ Dad tilted his head, brow raised.
I’m not sure what kind of superpowers you get when you become a parent, but the ability to read your children with unerring accuracy was one my father always possessed.
The words I wanted to say were resting on the tip of my tongue. ‘I love her.’
‘You don’t think she feels the same?’
I hated the way the next words tasted in my mouth, regardless of how true they might be. ‘I don’t think it’s what she wants.’
‘Give her a chance to surprise you, son. The girl I met doesn’t seem like the predictable type.’
I huffed out a laugh. ‘You can say that again.’
‘So…’ He jutted his head to the door. ‘Let her surprise you.’
Fear still wound its way around my throat.
She came. She showed up. That had to mean something, right?
Even if she didn’t know what it was she was feeling, I knew.
And whether or not that girl wanted to admit it, she loved me.
If I had to wait years before she felt safe enough to tell me how she really felt, I’d be right there, ready for when it does.
That realisation came crashing over me like a ton of bricks. I surged to my feet. ‘Be right back.’
‘No rush,’ Dad called out. The sound of his laughter followed behind me.