Page 118 of The Defender
“Not Scarlett. She genuinely doesn’t think about hers at all, and I don’t know why I can’t be the same. Our parents are great. I’m so fucking glad they’re my family, but it feels like a betrayal every time I think about my birth mum. It’s like my desire to get to know her means I think my parents aren’t…enough, but I can’t help it.” The pressure climbed into my throat. “Mostly I want to know why she gave me up. I was a baby. What did I do so wrong that she wanted me out of her life forever?”
“Vincent.” Brooklyn propped herself up on her elbow, her voice suddenly fierce. “There isnothingwrong with you. Like you said, you were a baby. Completely innocent. And there are so many reasons why people choose the adoption route. Maybe she was too young to take on that responsibility, or she didn’t have the resources to do so. Maybe she was forced to give you up.”
It was the same thing I’d told myself on many occasions.
“I know, but that doesn’t stop the situation from messing with my head.” I let out a rueful laugh. “I went to therapy for a bit. It was earlier in my career, but it didn’t help much. The only thing it did was make me realize that one of the reasons I’m so obsessed with winning is because I want her to see it. I want to be so fucking successful that she can’t help but reach out, or at least regret giving me up. I want to be everywhere so she can’t turn around without seeing my face. It’s a little bit of spite, and a little bit of hope. I don’t know what I’d say to her if we met, but I doubt that’ll happen anyway. I’m captain, I won a World Cup, and I have billboards and sponsorships coming out of my ass. If she hasn’t reached out by now, she never will.”
The words spilled out of their own accord. Brooklyn didn’t interrupt. She just watched me, her expression gentle, as I reached the part I’d never, ever told anyone. Not even Scarlett, who knew the half-truth.
“So…” I swallowed, the confession sticking in my throat before I forced it out. I had to get it out, or I was going to choke on it. I’d been keeping it in for far too long. “I hired a lawyer to find her for me. My adoption records were sealed, but the attorney is the best in her field. She was able to locate my birth mum somehow. I know exactly who she is and where she lives. I’ve known for years.”
There was an audible catch in her breath.
“Charleen Davies, age forty-seven. Lives in Bristol. Works as a paralegal, married to a history professor at the local university. One kid, a son, who’s currently attending uni.” I rattled off the information dispassionately, like I was reciting numbers from an old phone book. “I called in sick and booked a train to Bristol the day after I found out who she was. I went to her house. It sounds creepy when I say it, but I just…I wanted to see what it looked like. What her life was like. I didn’t knock on her door, but I saw her come out with her husband and son. They were dressedup for dinner, and they looked…happy.Shelooked happy, as though she’d gotten the exact family she’d always dreamed of. And I realized in that moment that I didn’t exist to her. Somehow, I just knew that when she gave me up, she’d wiped me from her memory. My lawyer couldn’t find any information on my birth father, so I assume he wasn’t in the picture when I was born. I was her mistake, and her current family is her do-over.”
Brooklyn’s hand tightened around mine. She was breathing heavier, her eyes glossy as I finished my confession.
“I came back to London that same night, but I still have her number programmed into my phone. I couldn’t bring myself to delete it. I’m not tempted to contact her most of the time, but certain days are hard. Christmas. My birthday, and hers. Especially hers.”
My phone burned a hole in my pocket. I wanted to take it out and chuck it into the stands, where it’d hopefully be lost forever.
“October third,” I said quietly. “Every year, I want to call and wish her a happy birthday, which is so fucking stupid. The last thing she wants is to hear from me. If she does, I’m sure she’ll contact my parents and tell them to keep me away. It would break their hearts. They can’t know I’ve been sneaking around behind their backs, digging up information on my birth mum. So I set a Do Not Contact reminder for the hard days. It helps.”
Clarity sharpened Brooklyn’s gaze. “That’s why you had the—” She broke off, her face reddening.
“The calendar reminder for my birthday?” I finished wryly. “I figured you saw, but I appreciate you not asking about it.”
“I didn’t mean to snoop,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “Your phone kept lighting up with new texts, and the reminder was right at the top.”
“It’s okay. You know the whole story now anyway.” I let out another, more self-conscious laugh. “I didn’t mean to trauma dump on you the day after Christmas. This was not theBlackcastle goodbye I’d imagined. We were supposed to run around the pitch. Dance to shitty music from my phone. Make out. Fun stuff, not…whatever the hell I just did.”
“Joke’s on you, I love a good trauma dump. It makes me feel like I have my shit together when other people’s lives are a mess.”
My chuckle echoed in the night air. “Then we’re a perfect match.”
“I think so.” Brooklyn squeezed my hand. “You can tell me anything at any time, you know. And whatever happens with your birth mom, I’ll support it a hundred percent. If you call her for her birthday? Great. If you show up at her house to rub your success in her face? I’ll go with you. If you keep her number and need a distraction a few times a year? I have plenty of ideas. If you delete her info and move on? Well…” She shrugged. “You won’t need me, but I’ll support the hell out of that too.”
God, I didn’t know what I’d done in a past life to deserve her, but if I could go back and give that version of me a big, fat thank-you, I would.
“Ride or die, huh?” I tried to keep my voice steady.
She smiled. “Like Bonnie and Clyde.”
A gust of wind swept past, tousling her hair. I tucked a stray strand behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her cheek for a beat longer than necessary.
Her smile faded as the silence of the moment coiled around us, tight and breathless with anticipation.
“You ruin me,” I said, my voice barely there.
Then I leaned in, my lips brushing hers in the softest of kisses, and my ruination was complete.
CHAPTER 31
VINCENT
The kiss started out as no more than a brush of warmth in the night, but that was enough to unravel me. It wasn’t about the kiss itself—it was about the woman, and the fact I’d never craved someone the way I did her.
Her scent, her taste, the sound of her moans—I needed them the way I needed oxygen. In my lungs, in my blood, in every fucking molecule of my body. She was wrapped up around me, her body pressed against mine, yet I still ached from missing her.
