Angel Series Books #1-2.5

by Tracy Lorraine

  I think back over the last couple of months and Connie not feeling her best. Well, I guess that makes sense now. She must have known. Why didn’t she tell me? Maybe for the same reasons I’ve never wanted kids. Maybe she doesn’t want kids with me, doesn’t think I’ll be good enough. I couldn’t argue with her if that’s the case. I’m pretty sure I won’t be any good at the dad thing. I can only just about look after myself and my dad; that is nothing compared to a helpless baby.

  Although I understand, I’m still pretty pissed off that she didn’t tell me. I did half the work of making it. Wait, here I am presuming it’s mine. No, it’s mine, it’s got to be. The woman said eleven weeks. I grab my phone and look at the calendar. No, it’s got to be mine. Connie said she wasn’t with anyone else after we started sleeping together after her birthday night.

  Thinking that it could be someone else’s actually makes me panic more than the prospect of it being mine. I mean, I love Connie, I know I probably don’t have the best way of showing it, but I do, and I want to have a normal life with her more than anything. Do all those things that couples do: move in together, get engaged, get married, and have a couple of kids. I can’t do those things, though. I won’t pile my baggage on to her. She’s better off finding a decent guy who can focus all his energy on her, not split it between her and his disastrous life.

  I think about the little black and white image on the computer screen. I may have only looked at it for a few seconds, but the image is burned to my memory. My baby.

  I realise in that moment that I need to get my life under control so that I can be there for my baby in whatever capacity it will be.

  I glance back at the house.

  Dad.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I need to get something sorted for him. We can’t continue like this. I’m going to have to admit that he’s fallen apart, and I’m going to have to ask for help. No matter how much I hate the thought of it. It’s for the best.

  Hours go by while I’m sat there contemplating what the fuck I’m gonna do. I have no idea what time it is, as I left my phone at the house, but I can see the sun starting to drop in the sky. I guess I’d better head back, get some dinner made and see what Dad might have broken today.

  The second I look up and see the front door open, I panic and start running. Although Dad isn’t with it more often than not these days, he’s never attempted to leave the house. It’s actually the opposite, which I am grateful for, because at least I know I’m always going to find him somewhere in the house. It looks like my luck might be up there. If he’s wandered off, he could be anywhere. I think about all the fast country roads that surround the village. I shake the thought from my head; worrying about the what ifs isn’t going to help anyone.

  “DAD,” I shout as I run into the house, hoping like fuck that he’s going to respond. Fuck, if he’s gone, then it’s all my fault. If he’s hurt, fuck. This only makes it more obvious that I can’t do this alone anymore. He’s getting too bad and I’m beginning not to trust him alone in the house.

  I get an answer, but it isn’t the voice I was expecting. Instead of my dad’s male voice, there is a soft female one that sends shivers down my spine the second it hits my ears.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as I head towards said voice. I guess people finding out about what’s been going on is going to happen sooner than I expected.

  My heart melts when I walk into the kitchen. There she is, stood over my dad, and it looks like she is cleaning him up. I glance around the room quickly to see that I’m right: there are smashed plates and glasses all over the floor. What the fuck has he done this time?

  Connie tries to reassure me that Dad is fine, but the second he opens his mouth and calls me Stevie like he always does when he’s lost, I panic. I hate that people are going to look at me with sympathy and pity.

  Before she gets a chance to say any more, I tell her to leave. Really, it’s the last thing I want, but I can’t deal with the look that I know is going to be in her eyes.

  She fights me, like I knew she would. But when Dad tells me not to send his May away, I crumble. May was my mum, and whenever he gets lost like this, he seems to go back in time and expects her to come home any minute. Connie doesn’t look like my mum, but there are some similarities with their hair cut and size. I can’t send her away; my dad looks so happy. I know it’s not true, but it’s kind of like all his dreams have come true - or at least he thinks they have. I can’t take that away from him.

  I walk over to the sink to try to pull myself together. Having her see this leaves me feeling like I’ve been ripped open. She just unknowingly walked into everything I have been trying to keep hidden from everyone.

  I listen to her talk to my dad in the softest voice, and it actually chokes me up a little. I breathe a sigh of relief when they both leave the room, but I know my time is dwindling. She’ll be back any minute, and she’s going to expect me to talk.

  I hear her footsteps on the tiles and I expect her to say something, but she surprises me by silently starting to tidy up. I felt awful when I flinched away from her touch, but the heat of her hand felt like it burnt. I’m too raw for contact yet.

  “STOP,” I demand, way louder than I intended.

  “Fin…I…” she begins, but I know that I’m the one that needs to talk.

  I reach my hand out and when she grabs it, I pull her up from her kneeling position on the floor. Our eyes connect for a few seconds, but neither of us says anything. She goes to move her hand, but I grip a little tighter, before pulling her out of the room, up the stairs and into my bedroom.

  I’ve imagined her with me here in my room millions of times. Every night I fall asleep wishing she was here. Every morning I wake up, hoping to see her face, but I’ve not allowed anyone to the house in years. I think it’s kind of obvious why.

  I move opposite to where she’s sat on my bed, and lean back against my chest of drawers.

  “Connie…” I start, but I really have no idea what to say, where to begin. I’ve got so much to apologise for that it’s a bit overwhelming. I’ve made so many mistakes when I comes to Connie, and I’m aware that I don’t deserve her forgiveness for any of it. I also know that I’m gonna be the luckiest bastard in the world if she gives me any kind of second chance. Okay, fine, third or fourth chance.

  “It’s okay, Fin. I understand,” I glance up at her cautiously, because I don’t want to see that look, but I’m surprised when I do, because it’s not there. All I can see is her concern and love. “I understand why you’ve hidden this, tried to keep your worlds apart, I really do. But Fin, that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do. We could have helped. Ruben, my mum and dad…me…Fin, we could have helped and made life so much easier for you. Why did you feel like you had to hide all of this, make yourself struggle, cause yourself all this unnecessary pain?”

  I open and close my mouth a few times as I go to answer. “I was embarrassed, ashamed, too proud, all those kinds of things. I hadn’t really realised how bad it had got until I got back from Australia. I felt guilty the whole time I was gone. I’d hired a carer, but I felt so guilty leaving him and having my own life. I didn’t want to put that burden on to you all as well. None of this is your problem. I should have done something earlier, not just try to exist in this house. When he was still of sound mind, we should have downsized, or I should have found him some sheltered accommodation or something where I know he’ll be looked after, but I never imagined it would get this bad, Con. He doesn’t even know who I am a lot of the time,” I stutter out, trying not to break down.

  “Oh, Fin,” she says as she gets up and wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my chest. Just having her close and being able to smell her instantly calms me, gives me strength.

  I hold her and we stand there for ages. Eventually, my need to sob like a baby subsides. She must feel me relax, because she looks up at me through her tear-filled eyes.

  “I’m sorry too, Fin. I’m sorry for not making yo
u tell me, sorry for not seeing there was something going on and doing anything I could to help you. I’m sorry I forced myself on you when you clearly didn’t want it eleven weeks ago. I’m sorry I wasn’t proactive enough with my contraception, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about him. It wasn’t that-”

  “Him? It’s a boy?”

  “Well, I don’t know that, but I think so. I just feel like it’s a boy.”

  The weirdest feeling washes through me as I think about Connie carrying my son. I reach up, grab her cheeks, and place my lips against hers. I’m expecting her to push me away after all the pain I’ve caused her, but to my shock, I feel her lips part and her tongue touch my bottom lip.

  I groan at her enthusiasm and open my mouth for her.

  The kiss goes on forever, and it’s the most amazing kiss of my life. My heart feels like it’s going to burst. How can I go from being so devastated to so ecstatic in a few seconds? Connie, that’s how.

  She places her hands on my chest when she pulls back. “We’ve got a lot we need to talk about, Fin, but there is something that we need to do first.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?” I ask. My dick twitches in my boxers, ever hopeful.

  “I just promised your dad his favourite dinner, and I have no idea what that is!”

  I can’t help the laugh that falls from my mouth at that comment.

  “Steak and kidney pie, mash and veggies, then bread and butter pudding.”

  And with that, she pulls me out of my room and out of the house so we can go shopping. She gives Dad strict instructions not to leave the living room, and to my surprise, when we get back, he has done as he was told.

  “You have no idea how badly I want to bend you over that island,” I say from my position on the window seat watching Connie cook dinner. “I never realised cooking was so sexy.” Is it weird that the sight of her being all domesticated in my kitchen turns me on so much? The thought of her being here, doing this kind of stuff every day, gets my pulse racing.

  “Shut up, you muppet, I’m covered in flour and meat juices!” she says back, but the look she gives me over her shoulder lets me know that she wouldn’t argue if I was to start something.

  “Fuck’s sake, why’s my dad got to be in the next room?” I groan as I watch her bend over to put the pie in the oven. Fuck, that arse!

  “Come and butter this bread, make yourself useful.”

  “Fine,” I grumble.

  Dinner was amazing, as it always is when Connie cooks.

  “Thank you, baby, that was incredible,” I comment after we both watch Dad leave the room. The relief I felt when we went to tell him dinner was ready and he responded with “Thank you, son,” was extreme. I’d take the piss taking about me getting a girl to come home with me at last any day over the alternative that is more and more common these days. He was enthralled by Connie and her culinary skills. It made me so happy to see him genuinely happy.

  “Let’s go upstairs. We still need to talk,” I say, going to get up and grab the plates.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “If we go upstairs, you know as well as I do that talking will be the last thing we’ll be doing.”

  I huff out a breath, “I guess.”

  She just raises an eyebrow at me and laughs. Fuck, I’ve missed that laugh. Who am I kidding? I’ve missed everything about her.

  “Is that you and your mum in that picture?” Connie asks, pointing at a picture frame on the mantelpiece.

  “No,” I respond sadly, “That’s Mum and William.”

  “William? Your dad said that name a couple of times earlier.”

  “He was my little brother.”

  “Oh,” is all she says. I feel bad that I’ve never told her any of this, but I guess my time has come.

  “I was three when Mum was pregnant. I only remember bits of it. Her pregnancy was awful, apparently. She was in and out of hospital, on bed rest, all that kind of stuff. They had no idea there was anything wrong with the baby, but it soon became clear when he was delivered really early. Something tells me thirty weeks, but I could be wrong. He only lasted a couple of weeks. It was the beginning of everything going wrong for my family.” I feel her reach out and grab my hand from under the table so she can give me some support.

  “I remember Mum and Dad being really sad, crying a lot. There were more trips to the hospital, and then Mum got ill. I didn’t understand at the time how bad, but while she was pregnant, they discovered a tumour. She refused any treatment because she didn’t want it harming the baby, not that it really mattered in the long run because of the rare genetic disorder he was born with. After his death, she had treatment, but I think she’d given up. Dad told me she had awful depression after losing William, and he thinks she just gave up. She was gone by the end of the same year.

  “It broke my dad. Not only had he lost his little boy, but his wife gave up on him, and me. He was left to deal with everything. He had to work, look after the house and me. Money was tight. Mum didn’t have life insurance or anything, so there wasn’t a pot to keep us going. Dad had to drop hours so he could be about to look after me. It was awful.”

  I reach up to wipe a tear from Connie’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry. How did we not know this? You’ve been like family for as long as I can remember. How did my parents not know?”

  “We both hid it. Dad is just as proud as I am, and refused to ask anyone for help, so instead we stuck together and did what we could. Well, that was until he started falling apart. It started with depression when I was a teenager. I think it all eventually got too much. I told him we should sell the house, get somewhere smaller, but he refused. This house has been in our family for years, and it was where he lived with my mum. He couldn’t bear to leave. I couldn’t drag him away from the place that held so many memories for him, so I’ve done everything I can to keep the roof over our heads.”

  “Fuck, Fin.”

  “He’s been slowly getting worse over the last ten years, but it’s only the last year or so that it’s got really bad.”

  “Let me help, Fin, please. Let us all help you,” she begs.

  Chapter Eight

  Connie

  I know I said I wouldn’t go running back to him again, that I was going to be strong, stand up for myself, but all of this is just too much. I couldn’t walk away from him now, even if you paid me.

  Fin and I talked for hours last night. He told me all about what his life is actually like, and my heart bled for him. I hate myself for not seeing how much he was suffering, but as he told me himself he’s a stubborn bastard and wouldn’t allow anyone to see it. He has agreed to accept my help, though, and the help of Ruben and our parents, who I know will want to do everything they can. Fin and Ruben aren’t exactly on speaking terms yet, but they’ll get there. Ruben must have had some realisation, because he did bring Fin to my appointment, after all. If he really hated him, he wouldn’t have done that. I’m not stupid enough to think Emma didn’t have anything to do with that, mind you.

  I told him all about my pregnancy, and apologised again and again for not telling him sooner. He said it was okay, but after the number of things he’s kept from me, he could hardly say much else, really, could he?

  “So it’s all your fault, really,” he says, after a few minutes of silence.

  “What’s my fault?”

  “You said last night that you think you fell pregnant the night of your birthday. Well, you practically threw yourself at me that night, begged me. I tried to be strong, do the right thing, but you forced me. So, it’s your fault!”

  “Okay, fine,” I say with a smile, “It’s all my fault.”

  Fin passes me over a plate of toast. He’s been so sweet this morning, holding my hair up and rubbing my back while I puked into his toilet.

  After our long talk last night, Fin put me to bed. He could see I was struggling to stay awake and I was grateful - it had been an eventful day. And with the picture of our
baby propped up on his bedside tabl,e and his hand resting gently on my belly, we fell fast asleep together.

  Fin told me all about his fears that what happened to William and his mum will happen to me and our baby. I reassured him that testing is better these days, and if there is something wrong, it will be seen. I think I managed to make him feel better, but I could still see the scepticism in his eyes. Knowing all this does make his running from the hospital yesterday a little more understandable; not only was it a shock to find out I was pregnant, he also had those thoughts running through his head. I could see the panic in his features when I was being ill this morning. It took me quite a long time to convince him I was fine, that it was normal, and being sick was actually a sign of a healthy pregnancy.

  “How are you feeling about today?” I ask him after I’ve had a couple of bites. We agreed last night that we were going to talk to both my parents and Ruben and Emma today. That he was going to open up. Oh, and we’re going to announce that we are giving it another go, out in the open.

  “Honestly? Shit scared. I’m scared they’ll be pissed off that I’ve kept it secret for so long.”

  “Don’t be silly, they’ll understand.” I reach over and give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Good morning,” Fred says, when he appears in his flannel pyjamas a little while later. He looks much better this morning.

  “Dad,” Fin says cautiously, obviously trying to judge how he is today.

  “Morning, Fin. Connie, was it? Sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  I see Fin breath a huge sigh of relief. We’ve made a plan, and we need his dad in a relatively sound mind so we can talk to him about it.

  “That’s it,” I say, smiling up at him. “Come and have breakfast with us.”

  “Dad, we need to talk to you about something.”

  Fred looks between us nervously. “I’ve got to move out, haven’t I?”