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Keeper by Amy Daws (23)

 

WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE we doing out here?” Gareth’s deep voice echoes in the woods surrounding us.

I tear my eyes off the fallen tree and look up at my three brothers standing in front of me. They’re all dressed in workout gear like we’re going to football practice instead of attempting to build something from scratch.

“We’re building a playhouse,” I say, picking up one of the saws I found in the garden shed at Dad’s house.

Camden’s jaw drops. “Booker, are you serious?”

“Yes, dead serious,” I reply, my tone firm.

Tanner strides over to the small amount of supplies I bought at a hardware store on my way over. It consists of a couple of tape measurers, hammers, nails, and extra timber. “You think we can build something with this sorry lot? We’re professional athletes, not fucking craftsmen. This will take us weeks.”

“Not weeks,” I interject. “Days. We have until Sunday night dinner.”

“Why the rush?” Gareth asks.

“Because I’ve made her wait far too long already.”

Camden’s eyes turn soft and he steps closer to me. “What’s happened, Booker? Did you and Poppy have a row? Surely you can talk through it. I don’t know what building a playhouse for a grown woman will achieve.”

“It’s not for her.”

“Who’s it for?” he asks, his brows crumpled.

I pause, tugging nervously on my earlobe but knowing that I have to tell my brothers. We don’t keep secrets like this. “For our baby.”

Tanner laughs. “Like a future baby you’re dreaming about having with her or a real baby? ‘Cause I think about future babies with Belle all the time. It’s kind of an issue.”

“A real baby,” I state with a heavy sigh.

“Fuck me,” Gareth states.

“Oh shiiit,” Camden adds.

Tanner presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Baby Booker is having a baby. Jesus fuck.”

“Look,” I bark, my frustration with them reaching my limit. “I’m building this playhouse. Are you lot going to help me or not?”

“Booker,” Gareth says, his voice softer than usual. “We want to help you, but we don’t think this is the best way.”

“It’s my way and I’m doing it!” I exclaim, straightening up as tall as I can so my brothers stop seeing me as the little baby brother and start seeing me as the man I am. I’m about to be a father—a fact that would be a lot easier to wrap my head around if I can get Poppy to talk to me. And this is the only way I can think of to get Poppy’s attention, so I’m done letting my brothers think they know what’s best for me. I’m the one who knows what’s best for me. And I know what’s best for Poppy. She’s not just in my net, she is my net. She’s my home and I need to prove that to her.

I head over to the fallen tree that Poppy used as a makeshift stage when we were kids. I place the saw on the wood and look at my brothers one last time. “You guys still don’t get it. Growing up, Poppy was all I had when you guys were off doing whatever the fuck you got up to. Football. Girls. Tan and Cam, you always had each other. Gareth, you never seemed to need anyone. I needed Poppy. I still need her. She is everything to me, and I have to get her back. So if you guys aren’t going to help me, you need to fuck off and let me do this.”

Anger coursing through my veins, I begin working the saw into the brittle tree trunk. After one swipe, I know instantly that this is going to take a hell of a lot longer than two days.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gareth pick up another saw and head to the other end of the tree to begin work. “Fuuuck,” I hear him murmur as I start to debate how we can get some power tools out here.

I look up as Tanner ties his hair up into a messy bun. He reaches down and picks up a piece of wood. “I seriously have no clue what the fuck to do with this.”

“You build stuff with it, idiot,” Camden snaps, snatching it out of his hand.

“Ouch, you prat! I think I got a splinter!” Tanner cradles his hand in his other hand and looks closely at his palm.

Just then, a loud crack comes from the east side of the woods. All our heads snap to the forklift driving straight toward us with a pile of timber and a large generator resting on the prongs. I can’t see who’s driving through the cab window, but I see a quad coming from farther in the distance with two blokes on it as well. One of them looks like Hayden.

The forklift comes to a stop twenty feet from us. The man who gets off is a huge, Jean Claude Van Dam sort of bloke wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. He has a worn tool belt around his waist, and his dark curly hair is sticking out from under a baseball cap.

“Which one of you is Booker Harris?” the man asks, his deep American accent smooth and confident.

I clear my throat and reply, “That’s me.”

He smiles. “My name’s Brody. I’m a friend of Hayden’s brother, Theo.”

“Um…okay?” I stammer, confused. I’ve met Theo a few times, but I don’t know him that well. What’s his friend out here for?

I glance over as the quad finally pulls up beside Brody. Theo is driving while Hayden holds onto a bunch of equipment on the rack behind him. They both amble off, lifting the pile of building supplies down to the ground in one smooth motion.

Theo stands and straightens his thick, dark-rimmed glasses. “Booker. Guys.” He head nods to all of us like it’s any normal Friday afternoon.

“What’s going on?” I ask as Hayden wipes his hands off and adjusts the thick leather cuffs around his wrists.

“Vi told me about your little project here. I thought you could use some help.” Hayden looks over at his brother and then to Brody. “Brody is my brother’s wife’s best friend’s husband.”

“Say what?” Tanner croaks.

“My wife, Finley, and Theo’s wife, Leslie, are best friends,” Brody adds, trying to help.

My voice pipes in next. “Okay, yeah. I’ve met Leslie, but I don’t think I’ve met Finley. But what does that have to do with anything?” I ask, unsure what the point of all this is.

“All you need to know is Brody’s my friend,” Theo states much more simply. “And since he moved to London a few years ago with his wife, he’s opened a very successful contracting company.”

“I renovate houses mostly,” Brody adds.

Theo continues, “The point is, Hayden asked me to help, but I’m afraid my skills don’t go much farther than custom furniture. This man here can frame houses.” He claps a hand on Brody’s back and smiles. “And I figured we can use all the help we can get.”

“We?” I ask with a smile lifting my face. “You guys are going to help? Seriously, thank you. This is brilliant. We erm…have no fucking clue what we’re doing.”

Theo, Hayden, and Brody look down at the sad display of tools I have spread out and do a crap job of hiding their laughs. I can’t say I blame them. To them, we look like complete knobs standing here in our footy gear trying to make sense of a hammer and nails.

I’m laughing when I say, “Maybe sometime after this we can play a little footy so we Harris Brothers aren’t completely emasculated today?”

Theo smiles broadly and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Deal.”

After thanking Hayden for saving the day, the seven of us get to work, with Brody taking the lead and directing us all on what to do. However, Tanner’s request to operate the forklift is instantly rejected. He doesn’t pout…too much.

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