“Oliveeeer!” the hoodie guy declared, his arms out as in greeting, and now he was walking towards me. Hugs. He was going in for a hug, and I wasn’t at all sure about that one.
Hug. A big one. Nice slaps on my back as he let me go. I hadn’t even brushed my teeth. Probably looked like an almighty mess. Not the first impression I’d have liked to present, and anyway, what the actual fuck was going on here?
“You look just like on TV. Taller, I think. Nice. Good to meet you, mate.”
I thought I nodded. And there was another guy too, sat on the chair at the table, his hand raised in greeting. I couldn’t even remember their names, even if I’d been told them. Numerous times. I knew this.
“Ed,” I said. Phew. “Cal?”
“Edward and Calvin,” Peter said calmly. “My sons. Sorry about the racket, I wasn’t expecting them.”
“No, because you bloody don’t answer your phone, Dad! Communication!” Cal kicked the chair out and sat down next to his brother, who still…just stared at me.
“We came over to stage some kind of intervention. But I think that was probably…unnecessary.” Ed. Calm. Sat there in a distressed-looking hoodie, the hood up over his head. He yawned, leaning back on the chair, like this was nothing. No drama at all. Good. I thought I liked him. There was no drama here. Zero. Well, who was I kidding?
“That last scene was pretty gruesome, Dad,” Cal declared, like we could all follow his train of thought. “I mean, we knew you were home because we watched you leave. And you said nothing. Not even a text? What the actual? Oliver, he needs to use his phone, because I for one? I was worried.” Now he was staring at me, still standing here like an awkward part of the furniture.
“I was worried,” Ed said calmly. “But, Dad, seriously.”
“This…is Oliver.”
“We figured.” Ed sighed. “And now this is…what exactly, Dad? Shag-central?”
“ED!” Peter barked. Oh, here we were again. At least he wasn’t barking at me.Please don’t ask me to leave.I wasn’t leaving. Absolutely not.
“Shag-central. Gah. Get off it, Ed. Dad, my brother is a total slut.” Cal was obviously unbothered by Ed’s overdramatic eye-roll, sitting himself down at the table, like this was a normal occurrence in the Fenton household.
“That’s what we’re dealing with here! So don’t you start too,” Ed shouted, as he let his head fall to the table. They were very different boys. Men. Tall and broad. Cal’s lighter features to Ed’s darker. Neither of them looked like Peter. Or perhaps both of them did. I shook my head.
“Boys!” Peter barked out. “We have talked about this. No name-calling, and we’re open and honest…”
“Ha!” I snuck in, far too triumphantly. Open and honest? My arse.
“And you don’t start…” Peter growled, pointing at me.
“I knew it,” Cal mused. He actually did. Rubbing his hands in glee. “We came here for an intervention, one I now declare is highly unnecessary. I think Ollie here has Dad in hand.”
“Oliver,” Peter ground out.
“No.” Cal grinned. “Ollie, Dad won’t let anyone call him Pete. He hates it. Hates all the shortenings and nicknames, so we’re going to call you Ollie.”
Ed was laughing. Fuck.
“I guess, you’ve got yourself a boyfriend, Dad,” he snorted out as Cal spluttered out another laugh.
“We’re too late, bro. Shall we just head back then?”
“Nah, I need a nap. And where are our cups of tea? I drive all the way here…”
“I drove. You slept.”
“I had a late night.”
“See? Total slut. I went to pick him up from Kate’s and he wasn’t there, and she was like, Ed who?”
“It wasn’t a hookup.”
“And then Maddie kept texting me asking where he was, and there’s this girl…”
