Page 65 of Worth the Wait
Nathan stepped forward. “You might want to rethink who you’re bragging to.”
Reece’s smirk didn’t fade. “Why’s that, Staff?”
Nathan turned his back, tossed the wrench into the box with a clang that echoed through the garage. “That’s done.”
Reece straightened. “Appreciate it. What’s the damage?”
Nathan walked past him without looking. “On the house.”
“Oh, come on,” Reece called after him. “Don’t want to owe you. Not after feeling that right hook.”
Nathan finally turned. Voice like gravel. “You come here to check out the competition?”
“You saying I got competition?” Reece arched an eyebrow. “In you?”
Nathan said nothing.
“Know you two have a history, but thought that was all a friendship thing? Best bros. Went to school together.”
Nathan said nothing.
So Reece swung his leg over the bike. “Or maybe I came by to give you a kick up the arse.”
“About what?”
The engine coughed, caught, purred.
Reece looked over his shoulder, eyes lit with challenge. “Freddie’s not the type you leave single for long. And this—” he gestured loosely between them “—this is just friendly banter, yeah? I’ll keep my hands off him. But if no one else is laying claim... well…he’s fair game.” He revved the engine. “You might wanna think about that.”
Then the helmet went on, visor down. He raised a hand in a lazy wave and took off, tyres spitting grit across the concrete. Gone in a growl of exhaust and cocky self-assurance.
Nathandidthink about it.
All fucking day.
Even while picking Alfie up from school. While cooking dinner, stirring red sauce into overboiled pasta shells. Sitting across the table watching his son eat in silence, fork clinking against the bowl with every bite.
So much so that when Alfie spoke, Nathan wasn’t sure he heard the words.
“Can I go or what?”
Nathan blinked. “Go where?”
“Kid from school. Said he’d help me with maths homework.”
Right. Sure.
Nathan stabbed a shell with his fork. “Yeah. S’pose.”
Alfie scraped back his chair. Took his plate to the sink. No thanks. No nothing. Then earbuds in, hood up, and out the door.
The kitchen stayed quiet long after.
Nathan stared at the leftover pasta. Then at the empty chair. Then at the door.
Maths homework?
Not a fucking chance.
