Page 40 of Worth the Wait
Freddie hated that memory. More than anything in the world.
Because that had been the last time he’d seen Nate.
Until he arrested his kid.
So on Tuesday night, he found that zip up in the back of his wardrobe. The one he never gave back, nor threw away. Nor had he ever washed it. And he wore it as he drowned the memory in a cheap bottle of Merlot from the local offie and told himself to stay away from Nathan.
He didn’t deserve him, anyway.
Chapter Eight
Rules of Engagement
Alfie lasted all of three days at his new school before Nathan got the call.
He’d hoped the invitation to meet the form tutor after school on Wednesday was just that. Aninvitation. Politeness. A routine check-in. Maybe even a courtesy call to welcome the new parent on the books.
But he knew better.
Nathan hadn’t exactly been a hands-on parent up to this point, but he’d seen the reports. The digital trail. The warning letters. Back in Romford, he’d been on the contact list, even if he wasn’t around to do anything about it. SIMS InTouch or whatever the hell the school system was called, had pinged his inbox often enough. Unauthorised absences. Threats of fines. Detentions, suspensions,“ongoing behaviouralconcerns.”
There’d even been talk of a pupil referral unit. The place where they sent the kids who’d already slipped too far through the cracks. That was when Nathan finally stepped in.
Took leave. Took custody.
Then left the army for good.
He dragged Alfie out of London and back here. To Worthbridge. Windy coastal town full of sea air, drifting gulls, and kids who built forts instead of watching their backs on council estates. It was where Nathan grew up. Where he and Freddie grew up. Maybe it could give Alfie a clean slate. Maybe.
He didn’t know why Katie moved to Romford in the first place, after finding out she was pregnant. Her dad, probably. She always took the path of least resistance. Let her old man enable her until everything spiralled. By the time Alfie came along, Nathan was eighteen, scared shitless, and halfway out the door to basic training. The army felt like the only thing that wouldn’t make him feel like a total fuck-up.
He sent what money he could from whatever grim barracks he was in. Took the blame every time something went wrong. Visited when he could. Stretched long weekends into something that might’ve resembled fatherhood. One fishing trip. A few awkward days at the coast. A visit to the War Museum because at least there he could talk about something he understood. He brought Alfie back to Worthbridge a couple times. A night here. A pub lunch there. But never long enough. Ghosts in every corner. Especially the one with Freddie’s name on it.
He didn’t think about the other kids Alfie met during their sporadic visits here. Didn’t clock the lads in branded hoodies hanging around the estate, waiting to pounce on a lonely kid. Because Nathan was there. But only in flashes.
Moments, not presence.
Now he was trying. Actually trying. Full time. Real. But the damage had already been done. Cracks everywhere. And deep down, Nathan wasn’t sure if he was fixing something… or propping up a structure that was never solid to begin with.
Still, he was here.
Sitting across from Alfie’s form tutor, pretending he belonged in the grown-up chair, while Alfie sat next to him, hoodie up, arms folded, looking like the last thing he wanted was for Nathan to be there at all.
Nathan didn’t know what he was supposed to say.
What he wanted to say was:I’m here, aren’t I?
“Thanks for coming in,” the teacher said, slight Yorkshire accent beneath the professional tone, and stroked down his tie over a gingham shirt as he took his seat. “I’m Mr Ellison. Alfie’s form tutor for Year Nine and his history teacher.”
Nathan nodded, eyes drifting from the man’s outstretched hand to Alfie, who stared at the floor and made no move. So Nathan stepped up, slipping his own hand into the teacher’s. He wasn’t used to shaking hands that didn’t come with grit, skin thick with callouses, knuckles scabbed, and trying to prove something. Army handshakes were firm. Grounded. Posturing and brimming with testosterone. This was… different.
Not that Nathan fancied himself as some kind of expert, but he’d learned how to read people. The quiet tells. The subtle shifts in energy. It had served him well on the barracks. Made it easier to spot the ones who might’ve been up for fucking the boredom out of a long deployment, no strings, no questions. The rainbow lanyard swaying gently from the teacher’s neck gave most of it away, though. But it was more than that. It was in his eyes. Thatcalm steadiness. That open way of looking at someone and expecting nothing back.
Nathan wasn’t used to being looked at like that.
Not without an agenda.
“Appreciate you coming in on short notice.” Mr Ellison withdrew his hand with a polite smile. “I know you’ve probably got a lot on.”
