I just need to step up and make sure thatwhile Aidan is doing all he can to support Rain, while Rain does the same for Corey, I’m there to support all of them the best I can.
Aidan goes on to tell us about how Rain is unsure about texting Corey since there is a possibility these two brothers Rain and Corey were involved with could be monitoring their phones to keep tabs on them. Rain hasn’t been using his phone at all; in fact, he may have even gotten a new one, I’m not sure. But if Corey is still living in that situation, and then he comes here, it could be dangerous.
The discussion continues with all of us reassuring Aidan we’re here for him and Rain for whatever they might need, but all the reassurances in the world aren’t enough to quell his anxiety, and before long, he slides into a panic attack. Myself, Cole, and Archer step in to guide him through it as we have so many times before, while Sam and Chris move aside to check our rods.
“Sorry,” Aidan begins when his breathing is under control again. The four of us are huddled together with Aidan surrounded by his brothers.
“Hey, none of that,” Cole says.
“You don’t apologise for feeling anxiousabout this, mate,” Sam adds.
“What can we do?” Chris asks, meaning it with everything he is.
“I don’t know, really. I guess just, please, just keep an eye out for Rain? I don’t want him to feel like he’s being watched, but I can’t watch over him 24/7. I just need to know that he’s OK.”
“Fuck, bro, you don’t even have to ask. We’ve got you. And your guy,” I say fervently. What I don’t say is that I’m resolved to watch over Corey as well, if they do manage to get in touch with him and bring him here. Aidan and Rain will be too, I know, but if he’s going to be in the same rough shape as Rain was when he arrived, then I know I won’t be able to stand by and watch him struggle.
We fish for another hour or so before we head back to the boatyard on Aidan’s property, where the Dream Boats workshop and fleet are also located.
When I get home, the first thing I do is flick the kettle on for a cup of tea. What else is a man supposed to do when he’s had a trying day? As I wait for the water to boil, I resolve myself to keeping the adoption from my brothers for a while longer. The excitement over my news had been tempting me to break my silence, but rightnow I need to make sure Aidan stays focused on his and Rain’s wellbeing and not worrying about me.
I know my brother. He is inherently bad at prioritising himself. He’ll ask what he can do to help. He’ll probably start building all the children’s furniture I haven’t bought yet, even though there’s not a lot of point until I know what age child I might be matched with.
Hearing my brother, my very best friend, begging us to keep an eye out for the man he loves, while they navigate Rain’s past, just reinforced all my reasons for keeping it off their radar for now. The panel isn’t meeting for a while yet anyway, and so there’s really nothing to tell. OK, yes, there’s something to tell. But I may as well wait until I have all the details and information, so I can share it all in one go and not drip-feed Aidan bits and bobs he’ll likely want to support me with. No, after today? There’s no fucking way I’m putting that on him. He and Rain have more than enough going on.
The kettle clicks off, and I make my cup of Yorkshire Tea – the only acceptable teabag in my humble opinion – and settle down on the sofa with my drink and a couple of chocolate Hobnobs, before picking up my book from the coffee table. I’ll enjoy the somewhat oppressive quietof my home while I can. The thought that, hopefully soon, this quiet house will be filled with the sounds of my kid playing brings a soft smile to my face. A smile that lingers until blind panic looms over everything I still have yet to prepare. The list of things I need to buy alone is overwhelming, but I can’t get anything until I know if I’ll be adopting a boy or a girl, what age they are, and if they have any special needs or even just what their favourite colours are.
Control has always been my safe place, and now I know I’ve been approved for adoption and am simply waiting to be matched, it feels less likely that preparation will tempt fate. With that in mind, I get up to grab a notepad and pen from the messy drawer in the sideboard and return to my seat to make a list. Several lists, in fact. One for each potential scenario. I breathe out happily as I take the planning process in hand. And finally, I relax.
Five
Corey
Four weeks after our first curry night, I’m back at Emma’s for a repeat, only this time, with Chinese food. The crispy duck with pancakes, cucumber, and hoisin sauce is to die for, and I would kill for more of the crispy shredded chilli beef.
A delightful new fact about Emma has come to light tonight. She eats noodles like an absolute savage. They hang out of her mouth as she shovels the food into her gaping maw.
“Wmmf y gn d b rn,” she mumbles around her food. I look at her, curling my lip in disgust. She nods her head from side to side as she chews and swallows her food before she tries again. “I said, what are ye gonnae do about Rain?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused about where this is coming from.
“You need to try and find him, babe.”
I feel my stomach flip with both nerves and excitement.
“I want to but—”
“But what?” she wonders, her voice gentle and unchallenging as though she can feel my warring emotions. The questions start to flood my brain. What if he doesn’t want me to find him? What if he never really wanted to be friends, and I was just the only person around? What if he hates me because I didn’t help him? What if, what if, what if…
“Hey,” Emma reassures, her hands grabbing mine again and squeezing. “He wants ye to find him. Of that, I’m absolutely sure. He just needs to find a safe way to do it.” We eat our food in silence as we both consider my options.
Ooh!” I jump at her sudden exclamation, and before I realise what she’s doing, her hand is in my pocket, pulling out my phone, and pressing it into my hand. “Check his Insta.”
“What?” I ask, incredulous. “He isn’t going to post anything on Instagram when he’s trying to not be found, babe.”
“Stranger things have happened,” she says, nodding sagely. “Just check.” I haven’t logged into any social media since changing my phone, so I’m a little nervous. Emma seems to notice and passes me a small card from a basket underneath the coffee table.
“Wi-Fi,” she says. I smile, connect, and then log in to my Instagram.
