by Nicola Jane
Alaric joins me. “It wouldn’t hurt to stay here, and the nurse said you’d need round-the-clock care for the next day or so.”
I scoff. “You think my parents will offer me care? You think my mum will tend to my bandages?” I laugh. “They’re not the caring type. They’re up to something.”
Alaric frowns, glances at the doorway, and then leans closer. “They seemed genuine when they offered for us to stay here. I really think your accident woke them up.”
“Tea,” announces my dad proudly as he returns with a tray and places it carefully on the table. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him make tea. We watch in silence as he pours us each a cup. “How are you feeling?” he eventually asks.
“Like crap. In fact, I might go lie down.”
“But you just got here,” says Mum. “At least drink your tea.”
“I heard your friend’s licence got rejected,” says Dad. “For Six.”
“Six?” I repeat, glancing at Alaric. “Lake bought Six?”
“He did,” Dad confirms, “but to run it as it were, he needs to apply for a licence in his name. It was rejected.”
“But you said you’d clear it,” I remind him. “What happened?”
“You happened. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be in this state.”
“I don’t think Lake would have done this on purpose, Dad.”
“Bullshit,” says Alaric. “He was like a rabid animal.”
“It just doesn’t seem like something he would do,” I mutter. “He’s always looked after me.”
“He was pissed that we were together,” says Alaric. “He’s obviously the jealous type.”
“Which is why we’ve applied for a restraining order. We want to keep you safe,” Dad says.
“I am safe. Lake wouldn’t hurt me. What you’re saying just doesn’t make sense.”
“The evidence speaks for itself. The police want to speak with you once you’re well enough,” says Dad.
“I am well enough. I’ll speak to them now and tell them exactly what I’ve already told you—Lake wouldn’t hurt me.” I stand, placing my tea back on the table. “I need to rest. Alaric, where’s my phone?” I ask. I haven’t seen it since before I went into the hospital. He gives a guilty look.
“I have it,” says Dad. “I thought it best I intercept all communication from him,” he says.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand to know. “This isn’t like any of you, this whole caring act you have going on. I’ve been here a whole thirty minutes, and you’ve not once asked about your grandson. You’re up to something, and I will find out what that is.”
I go to my old room and lie on my bed for an hour, but I can’t sleep. I stare at the ceiling, trying to work out what’s going on. I don’t find any answers. Eventually, Alaric joins me. He hands me my phone, and I turn it on. Oddly, there aren’t streams of messages, which makes me think my dad has not only intercepted them but also deleted them. “Please tell me you’re not in on whatever they’re up to,” I ask. Alaric shakes his head and gives me a warm smile. “Good,” I mutter.
“Your dad said there’s a visitor. You feel up to it?”
“Did he say who?” I ask, praying it’s Tillie or Jacob, but Alaric shakes his head.
When we go downstairs, Mum and Dad are sitting together on the couch. In the chair sits a man I know very well—Lucas Bradford from the London Times newspaper. I scowl, and Alaric places his hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward.
Lucas smiles. “Sara, you look amazing,” he says.
“I look awful, don’t tell lies,” I mutter.
“Nonsense,” my dad says and smiles. “Been through hell and she still looks fabulous.”
“Lucas wants to run a story on what happened,” says Mum brightly. “We were just filling him in.”
“I don’t want it plastered in the newspapers,” I say, horrified. “And there’s not much to tell.”
“Sounds scary to me,” says Lucas, glancing down at his notepad. “Psycho, jealous ex tries to kill you and your unborn child.”
“Oh my god, that is not what happened, and you can’t print that. It’s slander!”
“Has he been charged with attempted murder?” asks Lucas.
“No, because he wasn’t trying to murder me. Christ, what were you thinking, Dad?”
“I could run it as accused of,” says Lucas, glancing at my dad for approval.
“No!” I screech. “Don’t run it at all.”
“It’s in the public’s interest to know these things happen, sweetheart, and we should never cover them up. Domestic violence is a real problem,” says Mum.
“Jesus, Lake never laid a hand on me. Stop this circus. I am warning you, do not print that story, it’s a lie. I’m going to see my son.” I head for the door with Alaric hot on my heels.
LAKE
I use my flirty smile, but Kathleen, the nurse on the neonatal ward, just glares at me. “I should have called,” I admit. “I regret it. But I can’t change the past. I was a stupid arse back then. I’ve grown up.”
“Easy to say when you want a favour,” she mutters.
“Aww, come on, Kathleen, you know your Irish charm is an addiction for me. The fact I wanna see my baby boy is pure coincidence,” I say.
“A guy already claimed that title,” she says, arching her brow.
I shake my head. “He’s my ex’s new partner, not the daddy. Come on,” I plead, “I haven’t seen him yet. I want ten seconds. Let me lay my eyes on him, and then I’ll be gone.” She sighs but nods, and I grin wide. “You won’t regret it.”
I place my hands on the plastic cage where my baby boy lies helplessly. “Fuck,” I whisper.
“He’s small but a real fighter,” says Kathleen. “He’s doing really well.”
I bow my head and close my eyes, praying to any fucking god that’ll listen to keep my kid safe. I make a silent vow to protect him and be in his life. I missed out on Connor and I won’t make that mistake again. I snap a picture on my phone. “You can touch him,” says Kathleen. “Sanitize your hands, then it’s fine to touch his hand.”
His hand is tiny compared to my huge one. He gently grips my pinky finger, and I snap another picture. “Hate to break up the moment, but I think your ex is on her way up here,” says Kathleen, staring out into the carpark. I can’t let her see me here—she’ll freak, and that ass of a boyfriend will call the cops. “I take it you need to leave the back way?” she asks. I smirk, and she rolls her eyes. “Follow me.”
Tillie grips my phone with tears in her eyes. “Oh, he’s so tiny,” she whispers, staring at the photos I snapped. “I’ve tried and tried to call her, but her phone is always off.”
“I got a feeling that’s her new boyfriend,” I mutter. “She can’t have remembered what happened or the police would have said when I checked in today.”
“And Jacob couldn’t have spoken with her or she would have remembered,” adds Tillie.
“Unless she sees this as a way to get you out her life?” suggests Leia, and we all turn to her. “What?” she asks, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe she’s happy with Alaric, anyone thought of that?”
“You didn’t see the way she looked at me right after the accident. It was me she reached for and me she wanted with her,” I remind her.
“You mean when she was almost unconscious and bleeding half to death?” Leia smirks.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go and see her?” I snap. “You’re the only one around here who can annoy your way into someone’s life!” I add.
She takes a bow, grinning. “Why, thank you.”
“So, go put it to some use. Go and see her, remind her of what happened that day.”
“Why don’t you? Since when did a police caution keep you from getting what you want?” asks Chains.
“Because that new boyfriend of hers is always stuck to her side. He’s just waiting to call the cops on me again and get me locked up.”
Chapt
er Fifteen
Sara
I hardly sleep a wink. I made Alaric sleep in the spare room at my parents’. I blamed my restlessness, but in truth, it doesn’t feel right being with him. Something feels off and I don’t know how to break that to him. He’s been by my side since the accident, and I feel bad breaking it off, whatever it is.
I hear a commotion downstairs and glance at the time. It’s almost eight in the morning. I throw the sheets back and head downstairs, smiling when I spot Leia. My mum has the front door half closed, but Leia is chattering away, and she grins wide when she spots me. “See, she’s not sleeping, she’s up and about.” Mum looks back over her shoulder at me and scowls. “I brought you bagels and coffee,” says Leia, holding up a paper bag and a tray with two takeout coffees.
“She really does need her rest,” insists Mum.
“I’m fine,” I say firmly. I grab a cardigan from the coat hanger and wrap it around my shoulders. “We’ll be outside,” I add, passing Mum and stepping out onto the porch.
The sun is shining even though it’s cool, and we sit side by side on the steps leading up to my parents’ front door. Leia hands me a coffee. “Your mum is worse than a cop. You know, we’ve been trying to contact you for days,” she says. “Your phone’s always off or your guard dog is always around.”
I nod. “They’re just looking out for me,” I say.
Leia arches her brow and smirks. “From your friends, people who care about you?”
“They blame Lake for the accident,” I mutter.
“Do you?” she asks.
I shrug. “I know Lake wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.”
“He didn’t hurt you at all,” says Leia.
The front door opens, and Alaric steps out. “You okay?” he asks me, and I nod.
“I’m her friend,” snaps Leia. “Why wouldn’t she be okay?”
“I thought maybe you’d be upset about the article,” he adds, ignoring Leia completely.
I carefully stand, take the newspaper he’s holding out, and I gasp. On the second page, there’s a picture of me and Alaric. I don’t ever remember this picture being taken and I stare hard, trying to work out if it’s been photoshopped. The headline reads, ‘Anthony Falcon’s daughter recovering after shock attack.’ My heart thuds in my chest. ‘Sara Falcon, daughter to the millionaire property developer, only recently announced her pregnancy to partner Alaric Clements. The happy couple, who work together at Falcon Developments, had no idea the lengths her ex-partner would go to when he discovered she was pregnant.’ I glare at Alaric. “What the fuck is this?” I yell.
Alaric shrugs. “Your parents must have spoken to that reporter after we left yesterday.”
“Who told them all this bullshit?” I cry.
Leia is reading over my shoulder. “Fuucckk,” she whispers. “Lake’s gonna go fucking nuts.”
“Just remind him he isn’t to step foot near Sara,” snaps Alaric.
I scan the rest of the bullshit article. It doesn’t mention Lake’s name anywhere. That must be how they got around the fabrication. “I think it’s you who’ll need the restraining order,” says Leia. “He’s taking the blame for you!”
“What?” I ask.
Leia takes the paper and tucks it under her arm. “Lake never pushed you, Sara. It was him,” she says, nodding to Alaric. Then she turns on her heel and walks away, humming like she didn’t just drop a bombshell.
LAKE
My knuckles are white as Leia reads the newspaper article aloud. Everyone in the club is listening intently. The place has never been so quiet. “If it helps, Sara was just as shocked as you,” adds Leia when she’s finished.
“I need to see her,” I growl.
“No,” says Riggs firmly. “I know this is hard, brother, but breaking the conditions will end up with you in prison, and I need you here. I got another member joining us tonight from the Nottingham charter. I’ve got work coming in from Vinn, and we still don’t have the go ahead for the new club. I need you here and present. Focus on the club for now, brother. When Sara realises what the arsehole did, she’ll come to her senses.”
Tillie gently places her hand on my arm. “Riggs is right. Sara won’t stand for Alaric’s lies. She’ll work it out.”
“Why we got another brother coming?” I ask, changing the subject.
“He’s not getting along with the Pres there. It was his Pres who called, said he couldn’t take his moods and temper,” says Riggs.
“Should be interesting,” Leia comments. “Someone as moody as Blu and Cree put together,” she adds.
Connor pats me on the back. “You wanna go for a run?” he asks. It’s his answer for everything, he loves to exercise. I shake my head. “You mind if I go ahead?”
“Just be careful,” I say, and he grins. It’s been gradual, this father-son relationship we’re building, but when I say things like that, they slip out without too much thought.
SARA
I smile at the nurse as I enter the neonatal ward. “I was about to bathe him. Do you want to do it?” she asks, and I nod. I’ve never bathed a baby in my life, especially one as small as this.
“I have a name,” I tell her, running my finger over the white name bracelet on his wrist that currently reads ‘Baby Falcon’. “Leo.”
“A beautiful name.” The nurse, Kathleen, smiles and, taking a new white bracelet, writes ‘Leo’. “Falcon?” she queries, and I nod. I don’t know Lake’s surname—how ridiculous is that?
I watch as she lays out some cotton wool and a pot of warm water on a silver trolly. She shows me how to carefully wipe Leo with the wet wool and dry him. It’s hard when he has to stay in his little box and I have to avoid wires, all through a hole that my hand only just fits inside. I’m almost done when the nurse returns. “There’s a visitor to see you,” she says, and I glance through the large hospital window, where I see a young man I don’t recognise. I finish up and head out to the corridor.
“I’m Connor,” he says, holding out his hand, and I shake it. “And you’re Sara.”
“Do I know you?”
He shakes his head. “You know my . . .” He pauses, then almost looks bashful when he adds, “Dad, Lake.”
“Right.” I remember Lake bringing him back to the club one night when I was staying there. “Does he know you’re here?”
“No. I didn’t want to make a big deal. I thought it would be weird for him seeing as we only just met, but I wanted to come and see the little guy,” he says, nodding to Leo.
“Right. Of course,” I say. I lead him back into the room where Leo is sleeping. He peers through the plastic box, smiling.
“He’s so small,” he mutters.
“He’s fourteen weeks premature.”
“Will he be in here for a long time?” he asks.
I nod. “Until he’s breathing himself, feeding for himself, peeing, pooping, and doing all that stuff that babies do. I think it’ll be until he reaches full term.”
“Wow. But he’s okay?”
I nod. “So far.”
“Lake didn’t know anything about me,” he eventually says, and I take a seat on a comfy chair in the corner. “Did he tell you about me?”
I shake my head. “We didn’t really talk much. Things are complicated between us.”
“He wasn’t the one who hurt you,” says Connor.
“I know. Leia already told me.”
“The cops need to know, so they get off his back. He wants to see his kid too and he can’t and now all this shit is out in the paper,” he shakes his head, “he’s really hurting.”
“What’s his surname?” I ask, and he frowns at me. “He never told me,” I add.
“His name is Conal Murphy.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Conal?”
“What, you thought his mum called him Lake?” Connor smirks, and I laugh.
“So, were your mum and Lake together?” I ask.
“What do you think?” he asks. “I’m seventee
n, almost eighteen.”
“Your mum was young?”
He shakes his head sadly. “She was forty-three when she died.”
I suck in a breath. “But he’s thirty-three now,” I mutter. “That means he was—”
“Fourteen,” says Connor. “You need to ask him the rest. I shouldn’t have told you. I just want you to see he’s not had an easy ride, and all this shit he’s going through now isn’t right. He wasn’t keen on meeting me, but when he finally did, he took me in, no questions asked.”
“I’ll go and speak to the police,” I say. “I’ll do it today.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lake
The light hurts my eyes. I squint, realising I’m in my own bed, which is a blessing. “Morning, tiger,” purrs a female voice. I wince, not daring to put a face to the voice. “You were insatiable last night.”
“Maisy?” I ask in a dry, croaky voice.
“Who else would it be?” she asks, sounding instantly pissed. Fuck, I’ve managed to steer clear of her since she started growing feelings. Then I go and fuck it all up the second I get drunk.
“So, we, erm . . .” I lift the sheets and see we’re both naked. “Oh, we did.”
“You bet we did, over and over,” she runs her nails down my chest, “again.”
“Shit,” I mutter, laying an arm over my eyes.
“Way to make a girl feel special,” she snaps, throwing the sheets back and climbing out of bed. “Yah know, Lake, I’m tired of being your rebound fuck. You think you can put your hands around my neck and I’ll be putty in them?” she hisses, pulling one of my shirts over her head.
“Is that what happened?” I ask.
“Well, yes, but that’s not my point. If we’re nothing, stay away from me!” She pulls the door open and leaves, slamming it behind her.
Seconds later, Charlotte rushes in. “Do ya mind?” I growl. “You have to knock!”
“Shut the fuck up,” she snaps. “Get up.” She throws a shirt at me. “You have a visitor.”