by Jade West
I nodded. “Verity.”
“Our little princess.” He finished his scotch. “Olivia knew about Debbie. I hadn’t been all that quiet about it. She wanted her gone.”
“What did you do?”
“I broke Debbie’s heart.” He sighed. “Gave her a good severance package, told her I was sorry, told her I didn’t have a choice.” He looked me in the eye. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, too. Fucking hell, Carl, what were the fucking odds? Five days apart, Verity and Katie. Five fucking days.”
“That’s… virile.” I smiled.
“That’s a fucking nightmare,” he said. “Debbie left, wanted nothing to do with me once I’d chosen Olivia over her. I found out she was pregnant through a friend of hers, girl in the office called Maggie. I went round to her parents’ house and confronted her, but she said it was already done.”
“Done?”
“Abortion, she said. She was nineteen years old, she said, no partner, she said, no prospects, she said. She was angry, and hurt, and hostile. Leave and never come back, she said.”
“So that’s what you did?”
“That’s what I did. Felt easier that way, for both of us.” He leaned towards me. “I swear I didn’t know about Katie, Carl, not until the girl was just shy of ten. I was coming back from a meeting in Hereford, supplier up on the Three Elms Trading Estate, took the road through Much Arlock, and there she was, my Debbie, walking up the street as I stopped at the lights. She had a girl with her, in her school uniform. My window was open all the way down, and I heard Katie’s voice. Mum, she said, and I knew, I just fucking knew.”
“Shit,” I said. “That’s a head fuck.”
“Never felt so fucked up in my life,” he said. “Shocked, and angry, and disgusted at myself. And then sad, so fucking sad.”
“What did you do?”
“I looked up Debbie’s new address, went round there when Katie was at school. She looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost, and so did I. She denied it at first, said Katie wasn’t mine, but I demanded to see her birth certificate. I was a blank fucking space, Carl, a nobody, but dates don’t lie. Debbie cried then, cried and begged me to stay away, said they didn’t need me, neither of them, said they’d been coping just fine.”
“Shit.”
“She was a care worker, still is. My bright little Debbie wiping up old people’s shit to support my daughter while I lived the life of fucking Riley a few miles away.”
“What did you do?”
He shook his head. “Acted impulsively. Went straight home and told Olivia, told her I had another daughter and she’d be coming to stay with us. Insisted we tell the kids, insisted we invite Katie into our home. I forced my wishes on Debbie, threatened legal action, DNA testing, all that. I thought it would be easy. I was angry, Carl.”
And I knew the story from here. “I remember.”
“I didn’t tell anyone much about the backstory, I was too ashamed and Olivia was fucking mortified. I kept quiet but insisted that Katie was my daughter now, told Debbie that the past didn’t matter, that what counted was what we did from there.” He groaned. “I thought I could make it all right, thought if I pushed hard enough people would accept it, learn to love it. I met Katie for the very first time as she climbed into my car for her first day at ours. I was such a fucking prick, Carl, handled it all wrong. The girl didn’t get a chance to find her feet, I just wanted her to meet her brothers and sister, wanted her to see what a nice house we had, how much fun she could have. But she hated it, and Verity hated her. The whole thing was a fucking disaster.”
“Must have been hard on the kids, all of them.”
He nodded. “I thought they’d adapt, slowly, learn to get on. I thought we’d be alright.”
“But it wasn’t alright?”
He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t alright. Katie hated me, hated the house, hated the kids. She didn’t want to come there, used to cry to her mum that she wanted to stay at home, but I’d turn up anyway, try and make it work. Bull-headed, Carl, I was bull-headed. When she got to thirteen she didn’t want to know me anymore, and when she got to sixteen she told me she’d had enough of the whole fucking lot of us. Wouldn’t take a penny from me, not for anything, didn’t want to know.”
“You let it go?”
“No,” he said. “Not really. Kept trying, kept pushing. It’s her mother, though, she’s so close to her mother. Wouldn’t even let me speak her name, still won’t now. She said I had no right to speak about her mother after what I’d done to her, no right to even think about her mother.”
“And what about what Debbie did to you?” I said. “Katie knows presumably? That Debbie lied to you?”
He sighed. “I dunno, Carl. I really don’t know what she knows. I’ve never rocked the boat far enough to bring it up with her, communication is tough enough as it is without that can of worms springing open. Katie doesn’t want to know me, no matter how hard I try, and Olivia and Verity kick off if I try too hard to make inroads, so I don’t, for an easy life. Not for me, for all of them.”
“Then why is Katie here?”
“Because she’s my daughter,” he said. “Because I love her. Because I want what’s best for her. Because I hope that Verity and Katie can find some common ground in adulthood, something to bring them together. I hoped it would be this Harrison Gables guy.”
I shook my head. “There’s animosity there, David, real animosity. What happened today was unacceptable.”
He sighed. “I’ll sort it.”
“How?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted Katie came here. Maybe it was a mistake.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “It’s not Katie that’s the problem. Katie is mature and hardworking and committed to the programme. The issue is with Verity.”
He nodded. “It usually is. I’ll talk to her.”
I couldn’t hide my frustration. “Verity shouldn’t be here if she’s incapable of controlling her temper, David, regardless of who she is.”
“She’ll control her temper,” he said. “I guarantee it.”
I wasn’t convinced. “Verity is too used to getting her own way. She’s got no commitment to the training programme. She’s rude and sarcastic and does whatever she pleases.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He groaned. “You know what Verity is like, Carl, you’ve known her long enough.”
He had that right. I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to go,” I said. “Shit to do.”
I felt a pang of guilt at the realisation I was racing back home for Katie, just in case she decided to turn up again, even though she likely wouldn’t.
He stood and held out a hand. “Tell me you’ll do your best for them, Carl. Tell me you’ll try to build bridges between my two girls.”
I shrugged. “You think I can do that? I wouldn’t hold your breath, David.”
“Please,” he said. “I’ll bring Verity into line, but just… just try your best to get them on the same team, will you? It would mean everything to me.” His eyes were so fucking honest.
“I’ll try,” I said. “Although I probably stand more chance of herding cats.” I picked up my file and my phone. “You need to start communicating with Katie, David. The girl doesn’t seem to have any idea you’re not the bad guy in all this, not entirely. She needs a father who can support her, who wants to be there, if she doesn’t believe that’s you and you want it to be, then you’ve got some serious work to do.”
“I know,” he said. “I know I’ve got some work to do.”
I shook his hand. “I’ll see what I can do about building bridges, but it may take some time.”
“You’ve got six months.” He smiled. “Six months is the only time I can buy with Katie. She’ll be gone as soon as she’s done, I’m certain of that.”
“A lot can happen in six months,” I said.
“I’m counting on it,” he said.
As was I.
Even more so than he was.
“We need to talk,” Rick said, his eyes glinted as he stared at me from across our dining table. “Something has to be said. Things are escalating real fucking quickly.”
I paused, my knife halfway through buttering my roll. My stomach tensed. “Couldn’t agree more. I’m more than happy to say something, Rick. In fact, I’m dying to fucking say something. It’s you who insisted on waiting six months.”
He looked blankly for a moment, then gave me a sigh. “Not that something, I mean something between us.”
The disappointment panged. “What something between us?” I dipped the bread in my soup. Homemade a la Rick. Vegetable medley. “Things are fucking sweet, no?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they’re sweet. Sweet as fucking daisies.”
We both agreed on that. Another few days of Katie in our bed at night, another few days of Katie in my office through the day. A couple of days of Rick taking her to the stables while I finished up work.
A couple of days of fucking like fucking rabbits.
She was at home tonight, spending time with her mother. The first night in several, and it was quiet. So fucking quiet. She’d left a Katie-shaped hole in our life here, and it itched like a fucker when she was away.
I tried to convince myself it was always like this, that we always fell this hard. But it was bullshit. Total fucking bullshit.
“Spit it out, then,” I said. “What’s the problem?”
“The inevitability.” He stirred his soup. “Things are bound to happen, sooner or later.”
“Things? What things?”
He shrugged. “You two at the office all day, for instance. Or me on stable-boy duty with the prettiest girl of all the time while you work late… someone’s gonna break, Carl.”
I stared at him. “We come together or not at all, that’s what we decided.”
He folded his arms. “And I’m saying it needs rethinking, it’s not sustainable.”
I hated to admit he was right. It’d been bothering me for a few days now, those lingering looks in the office, the hard-on in my pants as I watched Katie at her desk. The way I was jacking off in the toilets when it got too much.
“Are you saying you’re going to fuck her, Rick? A tumble in the hay, so to speak? Literally?”
“I’m not saying that.” He held up his hands. “Katie’s more into Samson at the yard than she is me, way fucking more. I’m just saying it’s a fuse waiting to spark, all ways round. Better to address it now, I think. Save a fucking hoo-hah down the line when someone fucks up.”
“So, what are you suggesting?”
He put his hands in his hair. “I’m not sure. Maybe just an option to call? Before it happens? For permission?”
“Like a courtesy call? I’m about to plough Katie’s tight little cunt over a hay bale, is that alright?”
“What would you say if I called you with that?”
“I was fucking joking, Rick.” I thought about it while I took another bite. “What could I say? I’d say yes, I guess. What else could I fucking say?”
He shrugged. “I’d say yes, too.” He smirked. “And then I’d want to listen.”
“It’s dangerous,” I said. “It’s always dangerous.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “Always a fucking minefield, Carl. I dunno why we put ourselves through it.” But he was smiling.
“We’re strong,” I said. “We’ll cope.”
He nodded. “I hope so.”
“Hope?”
“Alright,” he said. “I know so.”
“I’ll probably have to have one of those angry fucking wanks while I think about it, then come home and take it out on your sorry little fuck hole.”
“Sounds even better.”
“You say that now.” I stared at him, and my dirty Rick was looking so fucking hot. His t-shirt was tight and stretched across his chest, his hair was messy at the back, like a bird’s nest, just asking to be grabbed and pulled as I fucked his tight little asshole.
“What?” he said, taking a swig of beer. “What’s that look for?”
I finished up my wine. “I want to fuck you.”
“I love how direct you are, Carl Brooks.”
I got to my feet. “Now,” I said. “I want to fuck you now.”
He held up his phone. “Maybe we should test out our new rules? Call Katie and ask if she minds. Maybe she could listen. Maybe she’d want to listen?” His eyes were hopeful. Sparkling. Horny.
I shook my head. “No fucking phone, Rick. Just you and me.”
I watched his breath catch. “You’re so fucking hot when you get all bossy.” He pushed himself from the table, rubbed his palm in the crotch of his jeans. “Where?” he said. “Where do you want me?”
I knew just what I wanted.
“This way,” I said.
I wanted to fuck him where she’d been, where the sheets still smelled of her. I pinned him at the bottom of the stairs, kissed him hard, until he grunted into my mouth and fumbled at my belt.
“Feels like ages since it was just us.” He snaked his fingers inside my boxers, gripped my cock. “Feels good to know you want me.”
“Of course I fucking want you,” I said, and it was more than that. I thrust against his fingers. “I fucking need you.” My mouth pressed to his, and my words were muffled, but he heard them well enough.
We stumbled upstairs with wet kisses. With frantic fingers and hard cocks and short breaths. I kicked the bedroom door open.
“Where she’s been,” I whispered. “I want to fuck you there. Want to fuck you where she sleeps. Want her to sleep where I’ve taken you. Want to love you where we’ve taken her.”
He groaned into me and kissed me hard.
I took off his clothes and he took off mine, and I pulled him onto me, falling to the bed as he straddled me, his hands on my thighs and his back arched.
He was so fucking beautiful. That gorgeous fucking man with his cute smile and his messy hair and hungry eyes.
I lubed up my cock, and he eased himself down, exhaling one long breath as my cock filled him up.
And then he rode me, slowly. So fucking slowly it fried my fucking brain.
I watched him intently. Watched the rapture on his face as I worked his dick with my fingers. Watched the way his eyes glazed and his mouth dropped open.
And I felt it all, felt him.
“I love you,” I said, and his eyes snapped into focus.
“I fucking love you, Carl, so fucking much.”
We stared at each other, through each other, and there was so much unsaid.
The unspoken hung heavy, thick and deep. The need that never left, that never eased, that never relented.
“I love her,” he said. “She’s the one.” His voice was barely a whisper.
I nodded, and then I pulled him down onto me, his chest to mine, and I held his face and kissed him while my cock twitched deep inside.
“I love her, too,” I said.
I’m not enough of a dreamer that I could ignore the inevitable. I’d known when I took the sperm donor’s offer that my summer plans for Samson would be largely kicked to the kerb. It’s not that I didn’t care. I did care. We’d worked hard, Samson and me, months and months of training and trust to get his form up enough to compete in cross country events this season. He was in good condition, but with the reduction in hours at my disposal, my ambitions would have to drop a gear.
I was ok with that. We’d have another year. Samson wasn’t young, but he was still in his prime. We’d get our time, he and I, so I’d shoved my eventing timetable in my dressing table drawer back at home, and pushed it out of my mind.
Until Verity pinned up the Cheltenham Chase cross country leaflet on our team noticeboard that Friday.
She’d formed a little gaggle of horsey girls around the office, and there they’d stood in a thrumming little huddle before work kicked off, enthusing over who was competing and how they were going to smash it. I’d kept my distance, pretending to be bus
y on my phone while they gushed over their horse’s form and who was signing up and who had the edge. Verity was competing her latest acquisition, a 16.2HH warmblood competition mare called Fleetwood Fancy. Fancy was right, over fourteen grand’s worth of cold hard cash after negotiation by all accounts, but that was nothing for the Faverleys. Pocket change.
I should have let it go, I mean, who cares what stupid fancy horse Princess Verity is dicking about on for the summer? She’d be bored of the mare before the season was out, and I’d normally have let it go. Normally.
But right there, with my coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, watching those horsey bitches mouthing off about who’d be kicking whose ass around that course at the end of August, I found I cared quite a lot.
Fleetwood Fancy had form, but Verity wasn’t as dedicated as she liked to think she was. She was all about the image, not about the substance. She didn’t take the time for the foundation work, didn’t want to put in the hours of warm up and preparation. Why would she? She had people to do all that shit for her. As a result, she’d be riding a horse that was still new to her, and sure, that horse had the scope to carry her through almost anything, but she’d never hit peak, not in time.
And that gave me a shot. Not a big one, but enough to send a thrill up my spine.
I mean, we’d never win, Samson and I, not the whole event, but that didn’t matter, just so long as we beat that arrogant little cow. Just so long as we had a chance.
There was that cold scaly feeling in me again, and my heartrate picked up as I watched her. She thought she had it in the bag, that she’d hop up on Fleetwood Fancy and the mare would carry her to victory without even breaking a sweat. I doubt I’d even crossed her mind, not with my budget auction horse that she’d never have given a second glance. She had no idea how far we’d come, Samson and me, no idea that we’d hit that sweet spot where we worked as one, trusted each other, knew each other by heart.