‘Cora’s is going under, isn't it?’ His eyes softened at the surprise on my face.
‘George?’ Oliver got to his feet. ‘What the fuck’s he on about?’
I scratched my jaw, shaking my head. ‘I’m handling it.’ Dad’s steel-grey eyes bore into mine. ‘How long have you known?’ I asked quietly.
‘A few weeks,’ he admitted. ‘I wanted to see if you’d come to me for help.’
Oliver stalked over and punched me in the shoulder. ‘Why the hell didn’t you come to me? I’ll give you the damn money.’
I rose to my feet, shoving him back. ‘No. It’s my shit tosort out. I’ve got it.’ Anger mixed with grief swirled in Oliver’s eyes, slicing my heart in two. His mouth opened, ready to lay a verbal diatribe of fury at my feet, when Dad spoke.
‘Before you boys take a slug at each other in my hospital room, I’m not finished.’ His attention turned to Oliver. ‘You got something to say, or shall I do it for you?’
In a flash, Oliver’s anger dropped to the floor like broken glass. His gaze right alongside it.
My brow furrowed. ‘What’s he talking about?’
Oliver sighed heavily, lifting his gaze to Dad who, despite having just had surgery, looked stronger than ever. ‘I’m retiring.’
Two words sent me stumbling back.
Oliver lived and breathed football. It was his entire world—until Fallon entered the picture and shook it all up. He’d managed to scramble back his career after the scandal and had played an impressive season. It was almost unfathomable that he would decide to give it all up.
‘Why? You love it.’
He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘Yeah, I do. But I love something else more.’ At that, a smile creased his face.
‘Is Fallon pressuring you to retire?’ Although as I said that, the words didn’t feel right.
His head shook quickly. ‘God, no. In fact, she thinks I’m insane. And several other colourful words I won’t repeat.’ Dad chuckled softly from the bed.
My hands lifted helplessly. ‘Then why?’
Oliver took a deep breath. ‘I want more, man. I want to build a life with her that doesn’t involve being followed by paps and being stalked whenever we go to the fucking shops. I’ve had a good career. Better than most. But I’m ready for a new start. I want to find out who I am outside of the game. I want afamily.’
The resolution in his expression floored me. This wasn’t a whim. Something he’d thought about for a second and rushed into the decision. The harsh set of his jaw told me he was serious. The frustration I might have felt disappeared in an instant. ‘Shit. Why didn’t you tell me you were considering retiring?’ Of all the things he’d told me about his life, I couldn’t deny the pinch of hurt in my gut that he’d kept something this big to himself.
At my genuinely stupefied expression, Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t you feel that’s a tad hypocritical coming from you right now?’
‘That’s not the same thing.’ I tried to argue, but my words trailed off. I reached up to cup the back of my neck, eyes darting to the floor. ‘Fuck, maybe it is.’
Silence settled between us for a few moments before Oliver stepped forward, clasping my shoulder, voice dropping low with conviction. ‘You could have come to me. We could have figured all of this out together. You don’t have to be the one to deal with everything alone.’ I mirrored his gesture, feeling his solid muscle beneath my palm. We might have grown up in the same house and both gone through similar things in our youth, but we were miles apart in how we dealt with life. Oliver attacked problems with the ferocity that can make your head spin. Good and bad, his passion is what drives most of his actions.
Whereas I preferred to figure things out in solitude. Using crossed fingers and flimsy hope to get me to the other side.
‘Now that’s sorted, I’d rather neither of you wait until I’m on my deathbed to have a conversation again.’ Dad shuffled on the bed, placing one hand on top of the other on his stomach. Looking exactly like he used to when we were kids and we were up to no good.
Oliver’s shoulders shook with laughter. ‘I’ll do my best.’Drawing me in for a hug, he clapped me heartly on the back. Pulling back, he glanced at Dad. ‘I’m gonna go get Fallon. She’ll want to see you.’
‘Oh, can you pick me up a paper when you come back? As intrigued as I am about a program calledLove Island, I can’t imagine it being something I’ll overly enjoy,’ he said, waving at the TV flickering in the corner of the room.
Giving a two-fingered salute, Oliver slipped out of the room. I sank back into the chair next to dad’s bed, feeling like I could finally draw in a deep breath for the first time in months.
‘Anything else you want to tell me?’ Dad tilted his head, brow raised.
I’m not sure what kind of superpowers you get when you become a parent, but the ability to read your children with unerring accuracy was one my father always possessed.
The words I wanted to say were resting on the tip of my tongue. ‘I love her.’
