Page 112 of The Home Grown
Validation. Wanting.
Ellie.
“I’m really sorry I missed your game, Mike. And I know you said you didn’t want that to be the memory of my first game, but I’m really proud of you. Win or lose. I’m really proud.”
And all I can do is kiss her head and squeeze her, pulling her in as close as possible. Because no one outside of my family has ever said that.
Especially not Rochelle.
But hearing it from Ellie is something really fucking special to me. So much so, I don’t realise I’m crying. A single tear trickling down my cheek as I feel a different kind ofsomethingfor the first time ever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
BETTSY
I’ve been so wrappedup in my Ellie-filled world that I forgot today is the day Johnny formally regains his captaincy. And I forgot Liam’s stag do is tonight. A ridiculous day to pick if you ask me, but with the season quickly wrapping up and playoffs looming, there’re few practice-free days, tomorrow being one of them.
But one social nightmare at a time, I tell myself as I root through my pockets for my swipe card, because all I need to do is get through the pre-practice dressing room grilling which I’m confident is coming.
I’m purposefully late, which was a good idea when I woke this morning, but a terrible one when I open the double doors and come face-to-face with Vicky.
She’s standing in the tunnel in a trouser suit to match our primary team colour, a clipboard clutched to her chest, but it’s clear she’s been waiting for me. Her eyes shift to meet mine and her expression remains tight. Like she’s ready for a fight.
I let the door close behind me and slip my access card away, forcing a smile as I come to a stop.
“Hey, Vic. How’s my favourite?—”
“Nice of you to show up,” she says, resting a hand on her hip as she cuts over me.
“I had … car trouble,” I say, flashing her a gappy grin.
“Right.” She narrows her eyes before straightening up. “Michael?—”
“Look, I know what you’re going to say and…”
“Do you?” She raises a brow.
“I—I don’t know, do I?” I say, wincing.
She sighs. “So, you’re doing this, then? Going along with it?”
I tilt my head to the side, and she rolls her eyes.
Apparently, playing dumb isn’t going to work.
“Johnny told me,” she says.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
“Well, yeah … before you ask, I didn’t bribe her or?—”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing. Because Roch?—”
“Vic, come on, will you?” I stop her mid-sentence.
I’m not in the mood for this. I don’t want to hear Vicky’s opinion of Rochelle and how badly she treated me. And I don’t want to—wait.
I study her expression. Trying to work out the meaning behind the look she’s giving me, but I can’t place it. Not at first, anyway. Because it’s not something I’ve ever associated with Vicky. Her eyes are wide and her mouth down-turned at the sides—trembling slightly as she glares at me.
