Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
BETTSY
Johnny’s been reading over the document for a long-two minutes, and I’ve been pacing in the space between the living room and the kitchen while I wait for the verdict.
No matter how many times I look at it, I can’t work it out.
“Hmm,” he says.
“Hmm?” I ask. “What does that mean? What do you think?”
I stop pacing and look at him, desperate for his assessment.
“Well,” he says. “I guess we should take this to a lawyer. Get them to check it over.”
Damn. I was afraid of that.
“Do you think it’s real?” I ask. “Because I get a weird feeling about Greg and if he lied to Ellie once before then?—”
“I can’t be sure, but then again, I’ve never seen a wedding certificate before.”
“But you must have a vague idea?” I ask. “Come on, Cap. Give me something.”
I walk over to the sofa and flop down, pulling a cushion from under my head and pulling it down over my face so I can scream into the fabric .
“I can’t say for certain, but it looks legit. And that looks like your signature.”
I clocked it too. The memory didn’t hit me at once. It came slow, foggy at first—then sharp enough to slap me in the face.
I toss the cushion aside and turn to face Johnny.
“I don’t think I can tell her until I know for sure. I think it’ll cause more worry, and she seems to be in a good place now—with work and all that. The last thing I want to do is ruin things.”
“I get that,” Johnny says, slipping the paper back into the envelope and handing it over. “So?—”
“So, do you know any decent family solicitors?” I ask.
“What do you think?”
“Right. Maybe I can ask the guys?” I pull out my phone and navigate to our group chat.
“Nah, you don’t want to do that,” Johnny says. “They’ll jump on it. Assume the worse. You won’t hear the end of it.”
“Good point.” I slip my phone away, only to pull it back out again a second later.
I could call my mam, she’d know someone. But she’d go full nosey mode, especially since she hauled all that paperwork down from the attic—which I’m still meant to rummage through. Telling her it was pointless wouldn’t go down well.
But there must be someone I know … someone… I run through the names of the guys I know, from our team first, then Team GB.
The light bulb switches on.
“Got it,” I say. “Greer’s old man is a solicitor. I can ask him if he can recommend someone at his firm—someone discreet.”
I pull up his number and hit dial, and luckily, he answers after a few rings.
“Bettsy, mate. I was just going to text you,” he says. “Wondered if you’d heard about Langer.”
“Langer?” I sit up straight, casting a look towards Johnny, who’s watching my conversation. “What about him? ”
“He’s done for the remainder of the season. And signed himself off the Team GB roster. Personal reasons,” he says.
A pang of something hits my chest as I process Greers’ words. Relief? Maybe … because he’s one less problem to worry about, but this isn’t about me. The Langer I know wouldn’t back down for shit.
“No injury?” I ask.
“Nah. Not that we know of, anyway.”
Fuck.
I dip my head in my hands, swallowing down the emotion that’s pushing hard to the surface.
Langer out … it’s got to be because of Greg finding out, right?
Maybe Greg showed up at his place and it all kicked off.
Maybe … fuck me… maybe Langer is on his way here now to break my legs for ruining his sordid affair.
“When did this happen?” I say, lifting my head up.
I meet Johnny’s eyes and offer him my most fearful look.
“Yesterday. We found out this morning. But I guess I was keen to know if you knew anything about it because it directly affects you and what happens with the lines and that.”
“Nah,” I say, wondering if I should tell Greer about Langer. My head is telling me to blurt it all out in a Bettsy-type fashion, but my heart is telling me not to talk shit. My throat is dry, but I force myself to speak. “Nah, not heard anything, mate.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see how it pans out … but anyway, mate, all good with you?”
I switch ears.
“Yeah, I just wondered if your old man is still a solicitor?”
“Yeah, he is. Why’d you ask? You’re not getting a divorce already, are you?”
I swallow down a laugh. “Good one … nah, one of the boys has a problem, and he wanted to run it by someone. Family law stuff. Just wondered if there was anyone at your dad’s firm you could recommend? You know, someone with discretion.”
“Uh, yeah, of course. I’ll text you over a number. ”
“Cheers.”
“No problem. I’d wish you good luck for the weekend, but no offence, I want to see you lose.”
“Same. Later.”
I hang up and glare at Johnny.
He raises an eyebrow, showing me he’s listening, but I can’t talk straight away. I stand up and make my way over to his kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and turning the tap on to let the water run cold.
“Everything alright, bud?” Johnny says.
But as I fill the glass, watching the water flood in, my mind races.
I feel sick.
This is all my fault, right? If I’d kept my mouth shut…
I turn off the tap and take a swig of water, holding it in my mouth for a second before swallowing it down. Then I do it again.
Christ, months ago … my biggest problem was getting roasted on the forum, the beacon of hope being a ‘justiceforBettsy’ hashtag. And now it’s this? The unpredictable Langer, potentially out for revenge … what’s next? ‘#justiceforLanger’?
“Bud?”
“You don’t think Langer would … do anything stupid, do you?” I ask.
“What type of stupid? Like drunken antics or…”
I fill Johnny in on the conversation with Greer.
“I guess I’m thinking more like a crime of passion … why else would he duck out this close to the end of the season? I mean, they just won the league title for crying out loud—the guy should be buzzing,” I say.
“Well yeah, but you don’t know how he feels about this Kathryn girl. He could be halfway around the world right now … they could be running away to start a life together,” Johnny says .
“Or he was happy living in the mess he’d created and he’s on his way here to break my legs…”
Johnny stands up.
“I’m sure it’s fine. You did the right thing. Whatever happens next isn’t your fault. I mean, how are you supposed to control his actions? If he’s been sleeping with his best friend’s fiancée, more fool him.”
I know Johnny’s right. But it’s not about what I did—it’s about what Langer does next.
I don’t give it a second thought when that text from Greer comes through, and I’m forced to make another phone call.