Liam laughs. “I don’t know. She’s pretty interested every time I visit Hugh.”
“Well, that’s just good taste,” Rob cuts in. “Hugh’s like an older version of Pierce Brosnan.”
As we approach a large rectangular building, I read the sign out loud. "Oxford Ice Rink." I look at Emily. "Don't you guys know how to relax? First hiking and now ice skating?"
She takes my hand and hauls me through the entrance. "Come on, you'll love it!"
The ice rink takes up most of the large space with stadium seating on either side. As I lace up my skates, I realize, like most things, I haven't tried this since Seattle. And in Seattle, I sucked at it.
Liam steps on the ice, and then as usual, offers me his hand.
With shaky legs, I take it and step out onto the ice. He pulls me close to his chest and immediately starts skating backwards as I hold on for dear life.
Once I’m convinced we aren’t going to plummet to the cold hard ice, I focus on the feeling of being wrapped around Liam's warm body. With my cheek resting on his shoulder, I breathe in his now familiar scent that always calms and electrifies me at the same time. It’s an irresistible combination that I still haven’t gotten used to, and I wonder if I ever will.
After we make it around the curve, he wraps his arms around me while we coast backwards in a straight line. "Avery." His tone is deeper than usual.
Careful to make small movements so I don’t throw us off balance, I move my head off his shoulder. Our cheeks touch and then our lips. In that moment, I no longer care if we fall as long as his lips stay on mine.
Liam ends the kiss as we approach the next turn, but the feelings stay with me as I put my head back on his shoulder. Why does everything feel so much more with him? It’s just another example of how the universe is out to get me by putting this guy in a different time zone. I’ll get on a plane in less than three weeks, and this will become nothing but a fuzzy memory. I try to ignore my depressing thoughts and focus on the present.
The feeling of my stomach dropping distracts me as I realize we’re falling. Liam tries to fall to the side instead of on top of me, and he ends up taking most of the ice.
“Are you okay?!” he asks. “Completely my fault.”
I roll on my back. “I’m sure it was more my fault than yours. I suck at this.”
We try to skate side-by-side with his holding my hand. After falling for the millionth time, I take a break and sit down in one of the stadium-style seats. I watch Emily gracefully skate around the rink as if she’s training for the Olympics. Eric manages to keep Katherine upright most of the time. Liam is skating freely in wide circles around the three of them.
"Doing alright, Avery?" Rob asks as he sits down next to me.
"Sure, I just don't want to outshine everyone else."
Rob smiles. “Same.”
Our attention is back on the ice as we watch Eric and Katherine both go down. To be fair, it’s more like Katherine goes down and brings Eric with her. "Nice one!" Rob shouts.
Eric holds up his middle finger.
As we watch them recover, I say, "I read my dad's email." Since Rob witnessed my first meltdown, it only seems fair to update him.
"Was it any good?"
I sigh as I rest my elbows on my knees. "Sure, three years too late."
Rob hums in agreement. “I felt that way every time my dad tried to get his act together.”
My brows knit together. “And how many times was that?”
He moves his head from side to side as if he’s mentally adding it up. “Well, I went into foster care for the first time when I was seven. Then, Dad got me back when I was nine. Lost me again that same year. I was fourteen the last time he tried. It worked out for about a year.”
“Did you have a choice, or did social services say you had to go back with him?”
“They always asked me my preference. I always chose Dad. I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t, though. I guess foster care again.”
“You kept giving him chances? I mean, no judgment. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.”
Rob shrugs. “He’s my dad. I wanted to believe he got clean each time.”
“Then you went back into foster care that last time?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Between school and work, I really just needed a place to shower and sleep. I was fifteen. I would crash with friends or sneak into my dad’s place when I knew he’d be gone or passed out.”
Rob props his feet up on the seat in front of him. “And I was working at this leisure centre every day after school, so I would sleep and shower there sometimes. That job also gave me food money. The owner never said anything if he happened to find me asleep on a yoga mat as long as it wasn’t all the time. Emily’s family took me in a lot, too.”
“What about this time? Are you going to give him another chance?”
He pushes hair off his forehead. “Probably.”
My head whips in his direction. “What?!”
“Like I said, he’s my dad.”
“But he doesn’t deserve it.”
“You’re right, he doesn’t.” His copper-color eyes look right into mine. “But I do. I deserve it. On the off chance he’s clean this time, I deserve to have the father I always wanted. If he’s not, I’m not sure he can hurt me more than he already has.”
I try to push his words away. I try to tell myself his situation is different than mine. And it is. It’s much, much worse. Yet, he’s still able to give his dad chance after chance.
I can feel him still looking in my direction. “Don’t do that.”
I look straight ahead at the rink but don’t really see anything.
“Don’t compare us. Just do you, Avery.”
That’s the problem. My way is making less and less sense.
Rob straightens. "What can I say? We're like a two-man show of daddy issues." He spreads his arms out wide. "Step right up! We'll make you feel brilliant about your dad who just golfs too much!" He casually throws an arm over the back of my chair.
My overcompensating laughter must catch Liam's attention as he skates near our seats. He points a finger in Rob's direction through the plexiglass. "I'm watching you, mate."
Rob cups his ear like he can’t hear him as they grin at each other.
Liam approaches us with an outstretched hand. "Ready to get back out there?"
Rob immediately jumps up and reaches for it. "Only if you hold me really close."
"Maybe next time." Liam drops his hand before Rob can grab it.
After I stand up and carefully step towards the ice, Liam immediately pulls me against his chest. "Just hang on."
"Famous last words." I wrap my arms around his waist. "I think my bruises have bruises."
We manage not to fall the last time we skate around the rink, but that’s only thanks to Liam since I’m completely distracted. I still don’t understand how Rob can give his dad so many chances. He said not to compare our situations, but how can I not?
Chapter Nineteen
Liam
After walking into downtown Oxford, Emily stops on the sidewalk a few feet from the next intersection. "Now, the boys have to close their eyes."
Eric is the first to object. "No way. You remember last time?"
Emily waves him off. "That was a complete accident. How was I supposed to know there was a dog-walker around the corner?"
"I had to get stitches!" Eric visibly shudders.
I can’t help but laugh.
Rob puts his arm around Emily. "You had to get a tiny plaster because one overexcited puppy nipped at you."
"That’s rubbish. It was not a puppy,” Eric argues.
It was a puppy.
Emily holds up her hands. "Fine, fine. Don't move." She shrugs out of Rob's arm and walks up to the intersection. When she comes back, she says, "All clear. Now close your eyes. We girls are going to lead you to our next destination. It's right around the corner."
Katherine put
s her hands over Eric's eyes. "Don't worry, big guy. I'll protect you from any puppies."
"I will use your body as a human shield," he mutters.
I feel Avery come up behind me and her hands cover my eyes. I enjoy the feel of her against me as she leads me to whatever Emily has planned next. She’s been quiet after her conversation with Rob, but I haven’t asked her about it yet.
Bells clang against glass, and then the temperature changes slightly. Emily says, "Now open!"
When I open my eyes, I instantly smile. "It's Leo's place!"
"You guys have been talking about a Brotherhood tattoo for as long as you've been playing together. I'm tired of hearing about it. Today is the day!"
"Brilliant," Rob says as he pulls Emily into a tight hug.
A woman walks out from the back, but I don’t recognize her. Shiny jet-black hair nearly reaches her waist, and her arms, chest, and neck are covered in a menagerie of unique tattoos. "Can I help you?" Her tone is confident yet friendly.
I step forward. "Is Leo around?"
Her eyes move around our group that fills up the lobby. "Sure, I'll go grab him."
Just like last time, Leo’s shop is bright, modern, and clean. Samples of the artists’ work hang on the walls in professional frames. There are glass cases similar to the ones in jewelry stores filled with things for sale like body jewelry, gauges and plugs for ears, and t-shirts with the shop logo. Binders sit on top of the glass. They’re the same ones I flipped through last time.
“Liam! It's been too long!"
I look up to see Leo approaching. His curly brown hair is half-covered by a gray fedora, and he has the same nose ring and warm smile as the last time I saw him.
Leo holds out his hand. “Ready for another tattoo?”
"We've got four blokes here who need tattoos." After I shake his hand, I introduce him to everyone.
"Three," Eric corrects. "I'm not feeling it today. I'll get mine later."
"What?! You're the most committed to Brotherhood out of all of us," I say surprised.
Leo takes a few steps back. "I'll let you all talk it out." I watch him walk over to the front desk before I return my attention to Eric.
"Shouldn't that tell you something? Why would I want to get permanent ink with three blokes who aren't committed?" Eric takes a step towards the front door.
"Wait a minute, I didn't say we weren't committed, just that you seem more committed. It was supposed to be a compliment." As I move to touch his shoulder, he steps out of the way.
"I'm off,” he says before pushing through the door.
Rob puts a hand on my chest when I start to go after him. "Let him go, mate. He'll be fine tomorrow."
Even though I reluctantly agree, it takes me a moment to face everyone. I can’t help but feel Eric’s issues with the band are my fault. He’s obviously picking up on my internal struggle between the band and the violin.
When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I turn my head to see Avery’s concerned expression. “You okay?”
I pull her hand off my shoulder and lace our fingers together. “Not really, but as Rob said, he will probably be fine tomorrow.” Hopefully.
After I call Leo back over, it doesn’t take the rest of us long to agree on a simple design which we all decide to get it along our right collarbone.
When it’s my turn, Avery comes into the room with me.
"Leo did your first one?" she asks.
I nod. "My dad just happens to know the best tattoo artist in all of England and brought me over here."
Leo laughs. "It's funny Charlie says that when he still has virgin skin."
"That's crazy your dad approved," Avery says.
"Well, technically I was eighteen, so he didn’t have to approve, but I also had a good reason at the time,” I admit.
“Like what?” Avery briefly looks at Leo as if maybe I don’t want to say anything in front of him, but like she said, I’m an open book.
“I’ve been having the same nightmare for as long as I can remember. Even with therapy, I was still struggling with it. I had just turned eighteen when I had one so bad I accidentally woke up both my parents.”
Dad stayed up with me watching the latest Star Wars movie as a distraction, which explained why he fell asleep at lunchtime the next day. Dad had been trying to inconspicuously keep track of me that entire day, but he was terribly obvious. I had finally sat down with a book hoping he would relax. He finally fell asleep in his chair with earbuds still in while Beethoven napped on his lap with one paw hanging off his knee.
I shift around in the reclined chair as Leo dips the needle of the tattoo gun in black ink. The harsh smell of my sterilized collarbone reaches my nose. “I had the idea that if I read through my social services file, I could fill in the blanks of my nightmare. Maybe if I knew what was missing, the nightmare would resolve on its own.”
I had checked on Dad one more time before quietly making my way down the hall. The room at the end was meant to be a third bedroom, but my parents turned it into a rehearsal room of sorts. Mum's upright piano was against one wall with Dad's wood and electric cellos next to it. A desk was against the opposite wall with built-in bookshelves on either side. I knew my file had to be somewhere in there.
The drawers were mostly filled with sheet music, old lesson plans, greeting cards, and random photographs. As I sat down on the floor to go through the last drawer, Dad cleared his throat from the doorway. "Need help with something?" His gaze moved from me to the open drawer.
"Sorry," I replied.
Dad stepped into the room. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Were you looking for something?"
I let out a breath. "I thought maybe my social services file was in here. I assumed when you adopted me, they gave you a copy."
His brows knitted together. "Any reason you're asking for it right now?"
"I think it might help with some questions I have about my nightmare."
"You could just ask me. I've read through it."
I immediately shook my head. "I want to see it for myself."
Dad sighed but then walked to one of the built-in shelves. He pulled down a box from the top and set it on the floor next to me. "There are photographs in there that aren't pretty, son."
I took the lid off the box. "I can handle it. I lived through it, after all."
He just nodded. "Want me to stay?"
"No thanks. I promise I’m fine."
He walked to the door but hovered there a moment. "I love you."
I met his concerned gaze. "Love you, too, Dad."
After he left me alone, I reached into the box and pulled out a thick blue folder with my name on the tab. I took in a lungful of air, then opened it. The first thing I saw was the original in-take form completed by social services. I was three years old when I was taken away from my birth parents for physical abuse and neglect.
I look over at Avery as she sits in the chair next to me, and the buzz of the tattoo gun fills the small room. “Everything clicked into place when I read the social services in-take form. Neighbors called police after hearing child cry for several hours. No vehicles in the driveway. Police broke down door . Child found in crib home alone. Bruises on upper arms and torso. In my nightmare, I was always trapped in something. And every time I cried out, I was only met with silence.”
When the tattoo gun pauses, I switch my gaze to Leo. “Sorry, keep going.” His expression is full of sympathy.
I remember the thin white paper revealed that the next page would be a photograph. Even though I knew it had to be me, the little boy looked like a stranger. His face was red from crying with tears still in his eyes, and he was only wearing a nappy. The bruises on his arms looked as if someone had gripped him too tightly, repeatedly. I kept staring at the photograph trying to make myself believe we were the same person.
The next few pages documented how social services had tried to track down my birth parents or any other family members. Apparently, the house they found me in had be
en a rental, and they just took off without me.
I flipped through the many pages of my time in foster care. The next picture was of me at nine years old with the same black eye I had when I first met Hugh. It was courtesy of my then foster brother, James. I woke up from a deep sleep to his fists beating me to bloody pulp. He accused me of stealing his new trainers. We weren't even the same shoe size. I was moved to another foster home the next day.
Several of the families I stayed with weren't too bad, but nowhere felt like home until I met Mum and Dad. I hugged the file to my chest while thinking of the bruised little boy in the photograph. The same blood might run through my veins, but thanks to Mum and Dad, I wasn't him anymore.
With that thought in mind, I put the file back in the box and went in search of Dad. I found him in the kitchen staring out the window that faced our garden. When he heard me come in, he immediately turned around and opened his arms. I walked straight into them. Truthfully, I thought I would be more upset, but in the end, I just felt grateful for what I did have.
“So, how did the tattoo come up?” Avery’s voice is thick, and her eyes are glassy.
“I told Dad that those bruises from the photographs in my file were choices other people made about my body. I wanted to make one for myself. That’s when he called Leo here,” I say.
I still think about the way Dad's expression had softened, and then he nodded. "Hold on," he said while picking up his phone. I assumed he was running the idea by Mum first, but instead, he began talking to someone named Leo. "In a half-hour? We'll be there."
After he ended the call, he said, "Get ready to go."
"Wait! Who is Leo?"
"Only the best tattoo artist in all of England!" He searched around for his wallet and keys.
I quickly put on the closest pair of trainers and followed him outside. As we got into his roadster, I said, "We need to rewind back to the part where you have a tattoo artist on speed dial."
"Not just any tattoo artist, the best!" he said as he backed out of the driveway.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard that part. Now answer the question."
"Sure, you may just see me as a brilliant father and classically-trained cellist for the one and only London Symphony Orchestra, but I'm a bloke with layers."
Please Stay for Me (The Brotherhood Series) Page 11