TWENTY-TWO #2
‘You’re being shy now,’ said Fletch with a laugh. ‘Come on, spill the beans. Don’t tell us you’ve never been involved with someone at work. These things happen. Even if you try to kid yourself about it.’
I moved forwards to break his line of sight with her. He was pissing me off big time.
‘Watch out, Doc, Fletch will be asking you on a date next,’ said Smithy.
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ said Fletch. He leaned back to look around me. ‘What do you reckon?’
I leaned back and took a sip of water. Not because I was thirsty, but I needed something to do with my hands other than punch Fletch who I decided in that moment I did not like.
‘I reckon it’s a bad idea,’ said Alex. ‘Besides, I’m already in love with someone else. Buddy has my heart.’
Smithy laughed out loud. ‘Good call, Doc, I’d rather shag Buddy than Fletch too.’
‘No one is shagging my dog,’ said Dom.
More laughter around the table.
I cleared my throat. I should have checked myself, but I didn’t.
‘Before I forget,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow, Fletcher, you’re on perimeter fencing on your own.
Matty and Smithy, you’ll be picking up supplies from the town.’
The words were out before I’d even thought about them.
The laughter stopped instantly, and an uncomfortable silence spread across the table.
I got to my feet, picking up my tray. ‘See you all tomorrow.’
Dom got up too. ‘Night, lads. Come on, Buddy.’
He fell into step alongside me as I strode back to the gatehouse. ‘Smooth,’ he said.
I ignored him. We had just reached the track when I heard Alex calling out.
‘Boss! Can I have a quick word?’
We both stopped and turned around.
‘Boss?’ said Dom under his breath. ‘You’re in fucking trouble now, and you deserve whatever is coming.’
‘Go and feed your dog,’ I said.
‘Come on, boy. Let’s bug out.’
I could see the fury on Alex’s face a mile off. Beyond her, the lads were making their way to the social lodge. Grainger was heading down towards the loch.
Alex marched over, coming to stand in front of me. ‘What the fuck was that all about?’
‘I’m––’
‘Sorry? So you bloody well should be. Don’t ever do that to me again. Taking over. Interfering. Just because your male ego got in the way. I handled it. I don’t need you stepping in and making us both look like fucking idiots.’
‘The fence, it needs doing. I was making––’
‘An idiot of yourself,’ said Alex, her rage still on full throttle. ‘If you can’t handle situations like that, then there’s no point in us carrying on. I might just as well leave now, and that’s not a threat. I’m not being dramatic. I’m being serious.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘You need to start thinking.’
With that, she stalked off. I watched her go. I wanted to run after her to say sorry again. Keep saying it until she forgave me. I turned and went inside the gatehouse. Dom was just walking through from the kitchen with a coffee in his hand.
I didn’t make eye contact as I crossed the foyer. ‘Don’t say a fucking word.’
I took the stairs two at a time, went to my room, grabbed my gym bag and then stormed back down the stairs.
Dom was now in the sitting room. He leaned back to look at me through the open door. I glanced over at him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. I was well aware of what an arsehole I’d been.
The gym was empty as I had hoped. I changed into my shorts and t-shirt and grabbed the boxing gloves from the locker.
The sound of leather on leather was satisfying as I pummelled the punch bag.
I was a grade A arsehole. An idiot. Made myself look like a dick.
I hit the bag harder. I could get over that.
What was worse than that was undermining Alex.
Stepped in where I wasn’t welcome or needed.
I should not have done that to her. All these weeks I had been taking it easy, standing back, showing her she could trust me, and I had undone it with one fucking sentence.
I pulled off my gloves, throwing them to the floor of the gym. I wanted to feel every punch.
I went over and over the dinner scene. I didn’t need to try to convince myself that what I’d done was wrong.
I knew that as soon as the words had left my mouth.
I was raging at my actions. I’d created a situation I couldn’t contain.
Damage limitation would work, but it wouldn’t fix it.
And that was like an uppercut to my ten-year-old self.
I punched the bag as hard as I could.
It swung away and then back. I caught it in my hands and rested my head against it. The sweat trickled down my face and my knuckles throbbed unforgivingly.
The realisation of what I’d done hit me harder than any punch I’d taken. I wanted to ignore it. But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t let me.
This wasn’t just about Alex. It went deeper than that. Further back in my life.
Dad walking out. Me begging him to stay, certain he could fix it. He didn’t. I had been ten years-old and totally powerless. I hadn’t wanted to ever feel helpless again like that.
I punched the bag again as I held onto it.
Maybe that was the problem. My problem.
I’d built my life around being the person who fixed everything.
Who always had a plan. Who took charge when everything went to shit.
My whole ethos, the way I parented Noah, guiding him when he needed it.
In the way I’d refused to let Marsha make any big decisions because she took hedonistic to a whole new level.
I’d built my entire career around it––the military, Laker Security and now Risk.
And now I was trying to do it with Alex. Protect her by taking control.
If I wasn’t careful that’s what would drive her away. She didn’t need that kind of protecting.