Page 82 of Surrender
I swear my heart leaps into my throat. “Mummy?” I don’t realise I voice the word out loud, my tone sounding like it’s a hundred miles away.
Sloan twirls on her heel to eye me standing behind her. Her face a hard, emotionless mask, like I’m nothing more than a stranger to her. I’m close enough to smell her familiar scent, but she still won’t make eye contact with me.
“Don’t say a word,” she barks, lifting a finger my way to silence me. “I mean it. Nothing.”
“Mummy, please let me stay. I like football—I mean, soccer.” the girl quickly corrects herself. “It’s soccer, Mummy. I’ll call it soccer if you want. Please!”
“It’s the same thing, Sophia!” Sloan’s voice is shrill and panic-stricken. “And you can’t play it.”
“Sloan,” I state, my jaw tight with anxiety as a couple of photographers begin walking toward us. I move in closer to her, desperate to hide her. Hide the scene. Desperate to figure out what the fuck is going on.
This is the woman I’ve been sleeping with. The woman whom I’ve opened up to and have been intimate with on more levels than I’ve ever been intimate with a person in my entire life. But everything about her is so night and day different right now. The way she stands, her tone of voice. She’s not my Treacle. She’s someone I’ve never met before.
I reach out to touch her shoulder. “Just tell me what the problem is?”
She jerks away from me, her eyes swerving to the kids and people all gawking at us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my brothers push back a couple of photographers to give us some space. Sloan’s chin trembles as she finally looks me in the eyes, dropping her shield. Her golden, watery eyes are mirror images of the little girl’s eyes staring up at her. I can’t believe I didn’t see the resemblance.
She is Sloan’s clone through and through.
“I’m so sorry, Gareth,” she croaks, wiping her nose and cheek in one swoop. “I don’t know what else there is to say.”
I move in closer, desperate to touch her. Desperate to take the pain from her. The sensation she’s putting out is like a phantom pain in my soul that I’ve worked my entire life to avoid, roaring back to life with a vengeance.
She inhales sharply and steps out of my reach. Jaw tight, she grabs the girl’s hand and hurriedly hauls her off the pitch. She passes the man she was talking to before, and he follows in their wake, looking agitated and pompous beyond belief.
I blink rapidly and fully process what’s just transpired.
Sloan has a kid.
What. The. Fuck.
My PR rep for Kid Kickers soothes the media’s curiosity about an upset mother, but my brothers aren’t as easily deterred.
Back in the changing room, I’m stuffing my clothes into my bag when I hear Tanner’s voice behind me. “That was your stylist,” he states, his tone more serious than it’s been all day. “Sloan, isn’t it?”
I look over my shoulder and see the three of them leaning against the lockers on the opposite wall. They all have their arms crossed over their chests like they are here for a fucking Harris Shakedown or something.
My voice is curt when I reply, “Yes.”
“Was that her daughter?” Camden asks.
I turn on my heel to see his grave eyes. “How should I know?” I snap. I hate that my two worlds are colliding. I hate it even more that I have no fucking clue what’s going on with Sloan.
Booker’s voice is timid when he speaks up next. “Why was she looking at you like that? It’s clear there was something significant happening between the two of you, even if you weren’t saying it out loud.”
“It’s none of your business,” I growl and instantly feel bad when Booker’s face falls. “I’m not discussing it with all of you.”
Camden’s face furrows with confusion. “You’re in our business all the time!”
“Because you put me in your business!” I exclaim.
Booker steps forward with determination. “We’re Harrises, Gareth. We’re all in each other’s business. Always. That’s just how it works in our family.”
“Oh sod off, Book. That may be true for you guys down in London, but the lot of you don’t have a clue what I do here in Manchester. None of you do.”
“That’s not our bloody fault!” Tanner roars, stepping forward and shoving his hand against my chest. I shove him back, but he’s undeterred as he continues, “You’re the moody sod who doesn’t say a word about your life here. We just assumed your life was still in London with us. Tell us what’s going on!”
“I don’t fucking know!” I roar, my hands thrusting through my hair in frustration. I squeeze the back of my neck and attempt to calm the fuck down. “I didn’t know she had a child.”
