‘Fine.’ I echoed. Slipping my trembling hands into my pockets and out of sight. ‘I’ve got somewhere I need to be.’ I didn’t give her a chance to respond as I tucked my tail and ran out of her flat.
22
OLIVER
‘What’s the matter with you?’ George asked, his face contorted in an expression he used enough that I coined it hisyou’re a prick, but I’m too nice to say it to your faceexpression.
‘I know. I didn’t mean it. It just sort of… slipped out.’ I banged my head against the kitchen counter. After I’d run out of Fallon’s flat, I’d gone straight to my brother’s house. A part of me knew I wouldn’t receive any comfort but rather a justified bollocking. So I’d blurted it out the moment he’d answer the door.
Fuck, the look on her face when those words left my mouth. I saw the shutter go down. Fallon was already reserved, and I’d just handed over all the ammunition she needed never to trust me again.
‘Does the filter in your brain not work anymore?’ I didn’t lift my head from my hunched position. George was firing up the stove and chopping various ingredients to throw into a pan. The soft sizzle of onions was the background noise to my pity party. ‘I mean, bro, I know shit got weird withAshley, but not everyone can deal with your moody arse like she could.’
I propped my head in my hands, wincing at the mention of her name. Another article had come out this morning; both our faces splashed on the front page. It was a grainy image of us stumbling out of a club. I was obviously plastered, and she was clinging to my arm. I remember her begging me to go to this new spot and meet up with some friends, promising that it was ultra-exclusive and no one would know I was there. I got angry with my mate for leaking our location to the paps at the time. He’d denied doing it, but I hadn’t believed him. It never occurred to me that the woman I spent my nights fucking, dirty and raw, was the one who had leaked it.
People in love only see what they want to see.Fallon’s words from earlier rattled loudly in my head.
‘I don’t want you or Dad involved.’ I burst out, lifting my head from the desk.
George threw some bits of bacon into the frying pan before turning off the heat and turning to face me. His eyes darkened, brows pinched together as he studied me for a moment before folding his arms across his chest and sighing.
‘You gotta get over this martyr syndrome you’ve got going on.’
‘I don’t-‘
‘Shut the fuck up for a sec,’ he said in a low voice.
I knew I needed to hear whatever he was about to say, so I mentally slipped on my big boy pants and leaned back in my chair, nodding for him to continue.
‘You playing football didn’t do shit to me or Dad.’ I opened my mouth. George glared at me, holding up a finger. ‘I swear to God, man.’
Snapping my jaw closed, I bit the inside of my cheek.
‘The side effect of being in the public eye is having your private life stripped away. Dad and I knew this, but we’ve never once blamed you. So you’ve got to stop acting like we do.’
He shook his head at me, desperate for me to understand.
‘Can I talk now?’
‘Yes… unless it’s something dumb, then no.’
‘Ha ha,’ I said bitterly. ‘I know neither of you blames me, but I don’t want to use our family for content for some fucking book like a reality show.’
‘You’re thinking about this all wrong.’ He slung a tea towel over his shoulder and bent at the waist, resting his forearms on the cold marble countertop.
‘This is the book that some kid will pick up because he fucking idolises you. That kid will read your story, thinking maybe he could be as good as you one day. He’s kicking a football around his back garden, pretending to be you and dreaming of being on that field. Scoring those goals and hearing the crowd chant his name. And if that kid reads your story and sees that even through all the shit you’ve gone through, you’ve come out on top… you’ve got no idea the power in that.
‘You’re thinking about all the gossipy twats who will talk about it at parties, like it’s love island or some shit. But you’re not writing it for them. You’re writing it for the people who have stood by your career since they saw you play in Leeds for a club that could barely afford to buy their own jerseys. The people who have seen you put in the hard graft and become one of the best players in the fucking country. That’s who you need to be thinking about.’
Silence settled between us. My brows drew together as I let his words hack through the thick fog of self-loathing I was drowning in.
George stared intently at me. ‘Also, if you even think about firing Fallon, I’ll personally shove a cactus up your arse.’
My butt instantly reacted to that threat. ‘Why do you care if I fire her?’
I had zero plans too. I knew a certain amount of grovelling was in order to get back in her good graces—a place I inexplicably wanted to be.
‘Because she doesn’t give a shit about your fame. She doesn’t care that you have more money than God. And she doesn’t fawn over you when you flash her your pretty boy smile.’
