AFTER THE MESS I WALKED into last night at my flat, I decided to crash at Vi and Hayden’s. I needed some space to think. To clear my head. I wanted to stave off any more “slips” from happening with Poppy, but Belle’s request for us to bring dates got right up my nose. Why the fuck does she think we need to bring dates to a small family wedding? It makes no fucking sense. I have half a mind to call Tanner and bend his ear about the whole bloody thing.
It’s early when I hear Rocky stirring. Vi’s flat is a massive penthouse on the eleventh floor, but it’s only a one-bedroom. That means Rocky sleeps in their bedroom in a cot. I rise from the sofa in the living room and tiptoe over to their door, hoping to nip in and grab her before she wakes them. They had a special dinner with Hayden’s family last night and were out pretty late.
I peer in through the door. Vi and Hayden are out cold in Vi’s big gothic glamour bed. Bruce’s head pops up off the floor from where he rests, watching me as I sneak in and grab Rocky. Her blonde hair is in wild sprays around her face, and her blue eyes are bright from a good twelve-hour night’s rest.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hold her to my bare chest and kiss her on the head. “Let’s give Mummy and Daddy a lie in.”
I walk out of the room and Bruce follows on my heels. I flinch at his loud clacking paws on the tile, but they don’t seem to stir. I make quick work of changing Rocky’s nappy and heating up a bottle. Then I take her and Bruce out onto the large balcony for a morning cuddle. Bruce can cuddle himself, the slobbering beast.
I stretch out on a lounge chair and inhale deeply as the bustling noise of a busy London Saturday morning buzz all around me. Rocky guzzles her bottle, watching me with her striking blue eyes the whole time. She looks so peaceful, so at ease with herself. She has nothing to trouble her yet.
“You’re up early,” Vi’s voice calls from the doorway.
I turn to see her shuffle out in her pyjamas complete with bunny slippers. Bruce trots over to greet her with a slobbering nuzzle as she leans down and strokes Rocky on the head. “Morning, Adrienne. How was she last night?”
I smile. “Perfect. Bloody perfect. She’s the best niece ever. I hope Tanner and Camden’s little ones are half as good when they inevitably start procreating.”
She flops down on the lounger next to me. Bruce rests his mug on her legs as she gives him a good fondle. “They will be little sods.”
“Too right,” I chuckle. “Did you guys have a nice time last night? All things considered I mean.”
She half smiles, but it looks a little sad. “It’s always an emotional night for Hayden’s family. I think Rocky would have been a nice reprieve for everyone, but I didn’t want to have to leave early if she decided she’d had enough. Plus, the anniversary of Hayden’s sister’s death is extra hard on him, so I wanted to be free to be there as his partner and not a scrambling new mummy.”
I nod with understanding and readjust the bottle in Rocky’s mouth. “How’s he doing?”
Her smile is prideful this time. “He’s good. He’s My Hayden. He amazes me every day with how much he’s overcome.” She sighs and looks out at the London skyline, the pinks of early morning sun illuminating the city. “I think it helps that fatherhood really suits him. He already wants another.”
She giggles at my dubious brow. “Marriage first maybe.”
This makes her full on belly laugh. “Oh, look at you, Mr. Moral Compass over there.”
I half smile. “Well, you’ve put off your wedding long enough. I’d just like to see you settled I guess.”
She shifts so she’s lying on her hip, facing me. “Putting it off is easier than change. Change scares me sometimes. We did so well adjusting together with Rocky, but I want to make sure we don’t overwhelm ourselves with too much too fast.”
I nod, my brow furrowed. “I can certainly sympathise.” I pull the bottle from Rocky’s mouth to sit her up for a burp.
“And what’s new with you, my baby brother?” Vi’s bunny foot kicks me in the knee as she tweaks her brows. “What’s the latest chatter on the home front?”
I frown but feel a nervous energy creep up my neck. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Vi deadpans. “Tell me. What’s going on with you and Poppy? You were shooting her some serious heat at Indie’s birthday.”
I shrug, but I know there’s no use keeping anything from Vi. She will always dig it out of me, using force if necessary. Shifting Rocky onto my shoulder, I reply, “It’s been a bit of a complicated mess with Poppy actually. We’ve had a couple slips.”
Her eyes narrow. “Slips?”
I really hope she’s not going to make me say it. “Yeah, slips. But I put a stop to them. I’m done fuc—…messing things up with her. She tried to pull a runner on me, like she did when she buggered off to Germany. I can’t let that happen.”
Vi looks at me and shakes her head. “You and your bloody abandonment issues. I still remember how much of a nightmare you were when Poppy left.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” I deny.
She scoffs. “Yes you were. Suddenly, you decided you wanted to hang with Camden and Tanner at the nightclubs and hook up with Harris Hoes like it was your job. That’s never been you. You don’t pull girls like them. You don’t Bacon Sandwich Rule.”
I roll my eyes at her reference to Camden and Tanner’s ridiculous rule about “whomever licks the bacon sandwich first, gets it”. Bacon sandwich being a euphemism for girls. Bloody pigs. “I didn’t do all that because of Poppy leaving or fucking abandonment issues.” I frown and then snuggle Rocky to me as a means of an apology for my coarse language.
Vi pins me with a sad look. “You’ve always been sensitive to change and people leaving. Don’t you remember when Gareth signed with Man U?”
I scowl, immediately transported back to that awful day.
14 Years Old
“Over my dead body you’ll go to fucking Manchester,” Dad roars from the other side of the kitchen table.
I’m crouched down by the counter, hiding. Gareth and Dad came storming in so fast, my instinct was to duck and get the hell out of the line of fire. Fights between Dad and Gareth are common, but this one seems far more serious. The two are at a standoff, both on either side of our long kitchen table, clutching the edges like they could snap the thick wood in half. Both looking like a couple of bulls ready to charge each other.
Gareth’s veins pop out on his neck as he screams, “I’m twenty-one years old. I’ve signed a contract. You don’t have any say in where I live or who I play for!”
“I’m your God damned manager!” Dad exclaims.
“Were my manager.” Gareth’s upper lip curls with his words. “You’re fired, Dad. Effective immediately.”
Dad’s face shakes with barely contained fury. “You’d actually go back to that place? The place that took her from me?” His voice cracks.
I grab onto both my earlobes, tormented between covering my ears so I don’t have to listen but desperate to know what Gareth will say back.
“Manchester didn’t kill Mum. And in case you’ve forgotten, I was the one with her when she died. Not you! And we sure as fuck weren’t in Manchester. We were in this house. Upstairs. In the room no one can enter. I was the one wiping her tears when she cried. I was the one holding her hand. All you did was yell at her. I was a fucking child, but I was more of a man than you ever were!”
“You fucking ungrateful…” Dad shoots around the table, his hands outstretched like he’s going to rip Gareth’s head off.
Gareth doesn’t run. He straightens and stands his ground, bracing for the hit. His dark eyes are full of determination as Dad grabs him by the shirt and slams him against the wall.
Where’s Vi right now? She’s the one who always puts a stop to them. When Dad slams Gareth against the wall again, I finally decide that I have to act. I stand up and scream, “Stop!”
The two freeze instantly, turning their heads to look at me, their breaths heavy like they’ve been running for miles. Dad’s eyes blink like he just realised what he’s done. He lets go of Gareth’s shirt and steps away from him. His face contorts with pain. Agony. Defeat.
“I won’t go back there,” Dad croaks, his eyes staring down at the floor. “I won’t go back to that place. I won’t see you play. Not there. Not for that team.” He covers his mouth to hide his trembling jaw. He looks old all of the sudden. Haggard. Completely broken. He looks up at Gareth. “I’ll lose you like I lost her.”
A strange guttural sound rips from his throat, and he turns and storms out of the kitchen. Gareth calls out to him, but he doesn’t turn back.
Hearing that pain in Dad’s voice breaks something inside of me. I’ve seen signs of his agony for years, but watching him lose it like that shakes me to my core. I don’t want to lose Gareth like Dad lost Mum. I don’t want to lose anyone in my family. This is bullshit!
My anger reaches a boiling point as I charge Gareth and shove him with all of my might. He doesn’t move. “Of all the teams you can play for, you have to go there? To United?” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and sniff hard, swiping at the moisture on my cheeks.
“Booker.” Gareth’s deep voice is resigned. Sad. “There are many reasons I want to play for them.”
“Why?” I scream. “So you can show Dad that you’re better than him? A better footballer? Who gives a toss about that, Gareth? What about us?”
“What about you?” he scoffs.
“You’re just going to bugger off to Manchester and never see any of us again.”
“I’ll still see you.”
“When?” I yell and shove my hands through my hair. “Dad’s right. We’re going to lose you. We’ll never see you anymore. Everything will go to shit like it did before.”
I turn to run out the back door, but he hooks my arm, stopping me in my tracks. His hand is huge on me. He’s so much bigger. Taller, thicker, stronger, older. He’s everything I want to be and now he’s leaving me behind.
“Booker.” He says my name through clenched teeth, pinning me with a seriousness to his eyes that I cannot accept. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you, kid.”
“Fuck you,” I spit and rip my arm out from his hand and run out the door without looking back.
What is love? Love means nothing if you still end up leaving.
Poppy’s blonde hair is a welcome sight as I reach the depths of the wooded park behind our house. She’s sitting on our tree. The tree where I first met her. She’s got a ball of yarn on her lap, two needles, and the workings of a knitted blanket. She looks up when she hears me approach. “Booker, what’s wrong?”
She drops the yarn and needles without a thought and rushes the rest of the way toward me. I turn, not wanting her to see my tears, but the softness of her touch on my back encourages them more.
“Gareth is leaving to play for Man U,” I say, looking out into the trees instead of at her green eyes that always see right through me. “He’s not going to live at home anymore.” A sob rises in my throat as she hugs me from behind. Her thin, pale arms wrap around my waist, but I can’t bring myself to touch her, even though every part of me wants to. “I hate this feeling, Poppy. It feels like after Mum died. Dad is going to be awful again. Losing Gareth will change him. It’ll change my family. We won’t be us anymore.”
“Shhh, you’re not losing Gareth.”
“He’s moving.”
“He’s Gareth. He’ll never go far. You guys mean everything to him.”
“We’re Harrises. We’re all supposed to be here for each other. Always. This feeling of losing someone…It hurts everything inside of me.”
“I know,” she murmurs into my back. “Loss is a pig of an emotion.” She loosens her grip and peeks her head around so she can look up into my eyes. “But, Booker, nothing loved is ever lost. It’s kept forever inside your heart.”
I roll my eyes but reach down and hold her arms around me. “I don’t ever want to lose you, Poppy.”
She half smiles and sings, “I’ll never leave you, Booker.”
“You’ve been acting twitchy since the boys got engaged, too. Sofa-surfing and hanging about longer than usual. You’re worried that everyone is going to move on with their lives and forget you.”
“I am not!” I scoff as I continue to pat Rocky on the back for her burp. I’m avoiding Vi’s eyes because, deep down, I know there’s a sliver of truth to her words. I don’t like change. And I don’t like losing people close to me. I enjoy our family and how close we are. Losing any of that feels like a failure.
“Do you think Poppy going to Germany had something to do with you?” Vi’s blue eyes pin me with a weighty look, like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just know that when she told me on the doorstep of her parents’ house, she was…not Poppy. Something had changed. Shifted.”
“What do you think it was?” She bites her thumbnail.
“Whatever it was fucked up our friendship, and I’ve just finally started to get her back.” Rocky burps, so I kiss her head and reposition her in my arms. “I don’t want to do anything to risk pushing her away again.”
Vi eyes me sternly for a minute. “You lost her before and survived. Why are you so much more afraid of losing her now?”
“Because it feels like she came back at exactly the right time.” I rush out, realising that the answer has been sitting on the tip of my tongue all this time. “Everybody in our family is moving on with their lives but me. It’s fucking unnerving. I guess it just feels nice to have my best friend by my side.”
She sits back in her lounger, clutching her knees to her chest. “I guess I can understand that. But don’t you think that means you love Poppy, too?”
Her words make my shoulders tense up and Rocky begins fussing. Vi’s arms reach out for her, and she happily goes over for a mummy cuddle. I watch the two of them reconnect for a minute. A mother and her child. Such a closeness there. So much love. So much potential for complete and utter heartache.
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t love Poppy. Not like that.”
“I mean as a friend,” she scoffs.
“No,” I repeat. “I care for her. Deeply. I would be fucking devastated if something happened to her, but do I love her? No, Vi. I don’t. I don’t have the space to love her like that.”
Vi throws her feet off the side of the lounger to stand so she can bounce Rocky in her arms. I watch her carefully because she seems to be so shocked, I’m worried for Rocky’s welfare in her arms. “But you love me?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “Family is different.”
“What about your future wife?”
“That’s a long ways away. And who knows if I’ll ever get married?”
“You say that now, but that’s only because you’re not opening yourself up to love.” A glossiness appears in her blue gaze.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning forward with concern.
“This makes me incredibly sad, Booker.” Her voice wobbles as she begins to pace.
“Why?” I ask, feeling like I’ve stepped on some landmine I wasn’t aware of.
“I had no idea you’ve never opened yourself up to love anyone outside our family.” Her voice is a garbled mess of thick emotion. “You’ve loved us all so fiercely, it’s shocking that you’re that closed off.”
“Love is not a word I mess around with, Vi,” I argue, squeezing the back of my neck. “You saw better than I did what a mess Dad turned into because he lost Mum. He was a fucking nightmare for years. If it wasn’t for Bethnal Green F.C., who knows how bad things would have been for us. Love has the potential to ruin a person’s soul.”
“Well, no shit,” she snaps and shakes her head, shifting Rocky onto her hip. “But the rewards outweigh the risks. Surely you can see that, Booker, or I feel like I’ve failed you.”
“Failed me how?” I exclaim.
“Because I didn’t show you how to love! I was a shitty replacement Mum,” she shrieks.
I stand and rush over to her, pulling her into my arms as she sobs against my chest. “Vi, it has nothing to do with you. You loved me better than any mum could. But I think the word love should be reserved for relationships like this. Family. I’ll keep my keeper gloves on with everyone else.”
“You’re wrong, Booker.” She pulls away and wipes the tears from her eyes. Rocky stares up at her with a confused expression, like she’s connected to her mother’s emotions. Vi looks at me with a severe glower and adds, “You’re wrong and I’m disappointed in you.”
My heart falls. Christ, this conversation has taken a turn for the worst. “You’re what?”
“I’m gutted that you think love has to be so small. I love Rocky. I love Hayden. I love my future in-laws. I love my friends. My coworkers. I love you and the boys. I love Indie and Belle because they love Cam and Tan. I love my fucking gardener because he makes my Chrysanthemums look so bloody gorgeous, I’ll never have to pay for a photography studio to take pictures of Adrienne!” She inhales a deep breath. “But I’m disappointed that you aren’t letting yourself open up to love like that.”
“I know what love feels like. I’m not fucking defective,” I snap, anger coursing through my veins.
“Well, Booker,” she huffs and makes her way to the sliding glass door. “When you decide it’s time to open yourself up to loving someone who’s not a Harris, I hope I’m still around to see it.”
With that parting blow, my sister slams the door, leaving me on the balcony alone with her slobbering, useless dog that loves unconditionally.