by Amy Daws
It’s a sensation that feels like home…
…A place I haven’t been in years.
SLOAN’S ENTIRE BODY DRAPED NAKED over top of me is a sensation I never imagined I’d enjoy so much. She’s light but long, so it’s an even distribution of weight. Comforting in many ways.
It’s odd because, when I think back to a year ago, there were so many textures that bothered me. So many things I avoided because of my tactile defensiveness that Sloan aptly diagnosed the first time we ever met. But the closer I’ve grown to Sloan—the more she’s around me—the less I notice those issues.
Life is funny like that.
The morning sunlight streams in through the windows of our suite. My fingertips trace the length of her spine as I drop a kiss in her hair. God, she always smells so fucking good. The sweet scent that I hated the first time I met her has become something I crave.
She is the only reason I’m not waking up with a sense of dread after everything that happened last night with my family. If it weren’t for Sloan, I probably would have been on a flight back home, back to Manchester, and back to the reclusive life I lived for over a decade.
But she stabilised me last night. She held me together and made me strong, just as I did for her the first time we slept together.
Sloan begins to stir on top of me when a knock sounds off on the door. My father’s muffled voice follows.
“Gareth, it’s me. I need to speak to you.”
Sloan’s head shoots up, her sleepy eyes wide and surprised on mine that are aimed down at her. With a smile, I push her hair back from her face and run my finger along the sleep creases on her cheek. “It’s just my dad. I’ll go deal with him. You sleep.”
She shakes her head and blinks rapidly, trying to wake all of her senses. “No, no. I’ll get up and leave so you guys can talk in private,” she croaks and moves to scramble off of me.
In one quick shot, I wrap my hand around her leg and roll us so she’s beneath me. Her legs naturally wrap around my hips as I use one hand to pin her wrists together above her head. My other hand squeezes her leg, my fingertips venturing near the crease of her arse.
Her golden eyes dart up at me with a dazed look of confusion. “Gareth, what are you doing?”
I drop a kiss on her neck and slide my free hand up to squeeze her arse cheek. “I said stay, Treacle.”
She bucks lightly beneath me as I blow warm air over the part of her neck I just kissed. Her voice is breathy when she replies, “Don’t you need to talk to your dad?”
“Yes and I’m commanding you to stay in this bed while I do.” I tighten my grip around her wrists and press myself deep into her centre. A low moan escapes my lips when I feel the dampness of her along my bare shaft. “Fucking hell, Sloan. You’re wet already?”
I watch her bite her lip and shake her head. “God, this is embarrassing with your dad right outside. At least let me put some clothes on.”
“No,” I growl as my erection grows harder by the second from holding her beneath me like this. It’s a heady feeling to have her completely at my mercy. And knowing she’s wet and wanting makes it really hard to not just thrust into her right here and now.
I take a deep breath and lift my head to look up at her. “You will stay naked and waiting in this bed until I get back or I will spank you for not following instructions, Tre. Understood?”
A small smile spreads over her face, and she quickly bites her lip to try to hide it. “Understood.”
I grin and move in to pull her lower lip out from between her teeth and suck it into my mouth. I release it with a satisfying pop and add, “Good girl. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
I throw myself off the bed and yell toward the door, “I’ll be out in five.”
After an ice-cold shower and a few minutes of mental preparation, I open the door to find my father propped against the opposite wall. He’s dressed in a pair of tan trousers and a white dress shirt, clearly ready for the wake that’s happening in a couple hours.
His steely eyes look me up and down, taking in my athletic shorts and wet hair. “Did I wake you?”
I nod and run a hand through my hair. “It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you would have been out running hours ago.”
“I said it’s fine,” I reply, ignoring his dig about my workout regime that he can’t stop himself from slipping in there. Always the manager first, father second.
“I wanted to talk before the ceremony.”
He steps back as I close the door behind me. “Let’s go outside. Sloan is still in bed.”
I see a flicker of interest in his expression at the mention of Sloan. “You two seem to be getting on well.”
“We are,” I reply with no emotion so he can tell it isn’t a subject I’m wanting to discuss.
We make our way outside to a table and chairs by the pool. It’s early, so there’s only one small family out in the water as we settle in a couple of plastic seats under a white tent. Both of us face the pool with our elbows braced on our knees.
After a long pause, my father finally says, “Gareth, last night was—”
“A fucking mess,” I finish.
“Yes,” he agrees, looking down and rubbing his hands together nervously. “A lot of things were said.”
I nod stiffly, my jaw clenched. If he thinks I’m taking them back, he has another thing coming. “They were all true.”
He grimaces and runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I know they were. But, to be honest, I’ve buried a lot of those memories. They feel like they were from another lifetime. Another person even.”
“Not for me,” I reply, cutting him a severe look.
“I know,” he replies with a sigh. “And now I understand why you wouldn’t talk to me about moving back to London. I never realised how much you truly hate me.”
His words bring me up short. “I don’t hate you.”
He turns his weathered eyes to me, pain and confusion all over his face. “You don’t?”
“No,” I reply with a scoff. “I’m just angry at you.”
His face softens. “But can’t you see I’m trying to make up for the past?”
“Dad, you can host all the Sunday dinners in the world, change all of Rocky’s nappies, and hug complete strangers if you’d like. But acting like the past never happened is a fucking slap in the face after everything Vi and I did.”
“Gareth,” Dad groans, his head bowed in shame. “I don’t mean it to be. I’m just trying to survive.”
“So am I!” I exclaim, my muscles tensing all over my body. “And I was just trying to survive when we were kids, too. Most nine-year-old boys are out playing footy with their friends, not potty-training their twin brothers. Most male teenagers I knew had loads of girlfriends. I never had one because I was too terrified to bring anyone around you, not to mention I never had time for dating because I was too busy taking care of everyone. You weren’t even remotely normal again until you started working for Bethnal. Then it was suddenly business as usual! Do you have any idea how that felt to a young boy who had been trying to make you happy for years?”
Dad winces at my last comment and shakes his head as if he can’t bring himself to reply, so I reply for him. “It felt like nothing I did was ever good enough. No matter how hard Vi and I tried, nothing pulled you out of that darkness. Only football. Then you went on and on last night about the importance of family. Where was that man when we were kids? The man we grew up with didn’t give a toss about family. He only cared about football!”
“I’ve changed, Gareth,” he pleads, turning to face me with an urgent expression on his face, all the veins in his neck protruding as he attempts to hold himself together. “Please tell me you can see that I’ve changed.”
“Of course I can see. Bloody hell, you’re wearing sandals for Christ’s sake,” I reply flippantly and sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.
He watches me carefully for a minute, unamused by
my remark, but I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve much better.
Running a hand through his hair, he composes himself before replying, “Gareth, when you were attacked…” He pauses, his voice catching in his throat as he looks away. “When Vi called me crying so hard that she couldn’t speak, I thought I lost you.”
The pain in his expression unnerves me as I watch him shift in his chair, directing his focus at the family swimming instead of me.
“And I thought to myself, It’s happened again. I’ve hurt and lost the one person I owe my life to…Just like when I lost your mother.” His voice breaks and his face contorts as he fights back the feelings boiling up inside of him. “I swore a long time ago I’d never return to Manchester because it holds too many tender memories for me, but I didn’t want to abandon you the way I did your mother. I was certain if I could get up there and just get you home, everything would be okay. It wasn’t until Sloan shouted at me that I even truly realised what I was trying to do.”
Emotion swells in my chest at his mention of how she stood up to him for me that day. “She’s not an easy one to fight off,” I reply.
“I can see that, and now I can say I’m grateful for it because Lord only knows what could have happened to you if I had gotten you down to London. I wasn’t seeing things clearly, but I could see that she was there beside you the way I should have been beside your mother. And seeing you two together like that was a wake-up call, Gareth. That’s why I’m trying so hard right now. I want to be the man your mother fell in love with. The man I was when you were little and she used to bring you to the football pitch to watch me practice…Do you remember any of the good times, Gareth? Or have I spoiled all your memories?”
I stiffen as images flood my mind that I’ve been trying to keep away for years. “I remember some.”
His face brightens. “I remember the day you were born. I had no idea the best adventure of my life would be making a family with your mother, and for years it was only you, me, and her. You two travelled with me to all my matches. It was brilliant. I loved parading you in front of my teammates and bragging about how you were going to put all their stats to shame someday. Your mother and I had so many dreams for you, Gareth. So many hopes.
“But when she got sick, I lost all hope. I lost myself. My body didn’t know how to function without her. We were always a partnership. Fifty-fifty. But the moment she became ill was the moment I felt half of myself disappear. I couldn’t even look in the mirror because I didn’t want to see what I was without her. I hated her for leaving me, and I hated myself for hating her. It was a sick cycle I couldn’t escape.”
My heart pounds hard and heavy in my chest over his words. Words that I can actually sympathise with, which is an odd feeling for someone who’s dedicated his entire life to outdoing the person speaking.
My voice is hoarse when I reply, “I wish you would have talked to me, Dad. You’ve never acknowledged any of this. You just fucking disappeared. I was a kid and we needed you. We needed help.”
His face twists in pain and he nods stiffly. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But your mother was so independent. She never wanted to live like we had a lot of money, and she wouldn’t dream of hiring a nanny. Not even when the twins were born and you know how wild those two were.
“I thought I was doing the right thing by refusing help. The Harris family only needed each other, you know? We were like a self-sustaining island. That’s why I was so upset when you signed with Man U and moved away. You abandoned the island and I hated it. It’s also why I pushed the twins and Booker to continue living at home and let me manage their careers so tightly. And why I bought Vi a flat in East London. I could see her getting restless, and I didn’t want her to move as far away as you did. I didn’t want to lose any more of my family.”
I shift uncomfortably as I think back to how angry my father was when I told him I signed with Man U without his consent. It was one of our worst fights to date. The only fight he ever put his hands on me. I thought it was because he didn’t want to lose me on his team. I never imagined it was because he wanted to keep me close.
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “For years now, I’ve been trying to do better than you. Be a better father figure, a better footballer, a better person.”
Dad’s eyes turn red around the edges. “Gareth, you don’t have to try. You’ve already achieved those goals. The incredible family we have is all because of you. You and Vi. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, son.”
“I don’t know if I believe that,” I scoff disbelievingly.
Dad turns and reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder. My knee-jerk reaction is to wince at the tender touch, but I clench my teeth and accept it for what it is.
An olive branch.
“You must believe it, Gareth. This family is more yours than mine, and it always will be. I’m just hopeful you’ll still let me be a part of it.”
I nod somberly, my head dropping down as I rub my hands together. “I think it’d be nice for the boys and Vi to see the real you.”
A small smile lifts his face. “I’m only sorry it took twenty-five years for him to come back.”
My body grows a newfound sense of calmness that I’ve never felt before. This conversation has been more impactful than I could have ever imagined. I’m actually shocked by how much I understand my father better now. The man was dying from a broken heart and doing the best he could under the circumstances. Sloan and I aren’t nearly as connected as my mum and dad were, but the thought of losing her after everything we’ve gone through together terrifies me. She is a part of me as much as anyone has ever been.
Perhaps she’s the reason I understand my father’s position a bit more now.
“You’re the glue, Gareth. You always have been. You are exactly like your mother in that way.”
His mention of Mum brings her face to the forefront of my mind. Her smile. Her eyes. Her hair. Her touch.
Mostly her touch.
She was always wonderful. And she loved my father, even in the end. If she could forgive him, so should I.
“She was a great mum,” I croak, tears sliding freely down my face.
“The best,” Dad replies, swiping at his own tears. “And you’ll be a great dad because you’re just like her.”
His comment has my head turning to look at him. “I’m a ways off from being a dad, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head. “I’m in no position to give you advice, Gareth. But I do wonder if during your pursuit of being better than me, you might be ignoring your own path.”
My brows knit together as I try to make sense of his last statement. “What the bloody hell do you mean by that?”
He smiles knowingly and replies like what he’s stating is one hundred percent factual and there’s not a shred of doubt in his mind. “You love her, Gareth. You may not know it yet, but I do.”
THE ENTIRE HARRIS FAMILY AND our plus-ones stand in a semi-circle on the beach, all dressed in white per Vi’s request. My brothers and sister are clutching pieces of paper with our eulogies that Vi asked each of us to prepare. Apparently, we’re going to put the messages in a bottle and send them out to sea at the end. None of this is something I’m comfortable with in the slightest. The truth is, I’ve never even been comfortable enough to visit Mum’s gravesite. But I will do pretty much anything for Vi, so here I stand with my bloody paper.
Hayden is crouched down in the sand helping Vi as she fusses over a wreath of white lilies that’s laying over top of a small, wooden raft. Rocky is in Tanner’s arms, tugging on his beard as we all wait patiently for Vi to begin.
Once she has the wreath arranged the way she wants it, she turns and nods at Camden and Booker, who bend over to pick up the raft. They walk it out into the water and push it far enough so the tide carries it away. Eventually, Cam and Booker return to the group, and we have a moment of silence as it floats farther and farther out to sea.
/> After the moment of silence, Vi turns on her heel and stands to face us with the ocean at her back. She fights her blonde hair whipping across her face in the wind as she reads from her sheet of paper.
“When I was researching the funeral traditions of West Africa, I learned that many of the cultures here feel that the concepts of life and death are not separate. They say that when you’re healthy and well, you are living a lot. When you are ill or dying, you are living a little.
“I like that thought because, when it comes to the Harris family, no matter how hard things were for us without Mum around or how difficult life got, no one could look at us and say we weren’t living a lot. We lived, and we laughed, and we loved through the pain. Through missing Mum. Through not knowing her well enough before she died. Through growing up together and looking out for each other, no matter what.
“Some look at me and think it’s sad that I grew up without a mother. But that is because they don’t know the four men standing in front of me. No girl in the world is as lucky as I was growing up. The years I’ve spent yelling at you four and scolding you for making bad choices or interfering in my personal life too much have been some of the best years of my life. It’s like Mum knew I would need all of you.”
Vi pauses as she covers her mouth to hide her quiet sobs while Hayden wraps a soothing arm around her. Right on cue, Rocky calls out from Tanner’s arms, “Mummy okay?”
Vi laughs a tearful, contented laugh and nods. “Mummy’s okay.” She walks over to hold Rocky and brings her back to her spot in the sand, clutching her against her chest for comfort before continuing, “Those years with my brothers are second only to the day I became a mother myself.” She turns her eyes to our father. “And Dad, watching you fall in love with my daughter has made me so grateful to have you here with all of us. I know you’re hard on yourself about the past, but I have a feeling the best is yet to come for you.”