Page 60 of Dominate
I finish my drill and run over to pat him on the back. “Relax, Booker. You’re only nine and nearly as good as the twins. Don’t get down on yourself over this. It’s just a drill.”
“Looks like you’re running, Booker,” Dad shouts as he straightens the pole and stares over at Booker. Dad’s gaze is firm and unforgiving—all business when it comes to football. At least he’s talking to us again.
Booker’s chin quivers. “I don’t want to run,” he whines, still out of breath from the drill.
“Come on, Book. I’ll run with you,” I encourage and begin walking backwards toward the woods.
Dad watches me with a furrow to his brow, and I see a tiny flicker of his expression soften when he looks down at little Booker. With an awkward cough, he states, “Or perhaps I’ll race you, Booker.”
Booker’s eyes light up and, without another word, Dad takes off toward the back of our property, jogging right past me. His pace is fast for an old bugger, that’s for sure.
My youngest brother hoots with glee and chases after Dad, running as fast as his little nine-year-old legs can carry him. With a smile, I jog beside him, cheering him on. “Come on, Book! I know you have more speed in you than that!”
His face tightens with determination as he picks up speed. At the same time, the twins catch up to us, suddenly flanking either side of me and Booker.
“We’ll slow that old geezer down!” Tanner yells, closing in on Dad.
Camden cups his mouth and shouts to his twin, “Tanner, show Dad your butt! It’ll blind him with its pastiness, and he’ll have to stop so he doesn’t run into a tree.”
Tanner looks over his shoulder with a frown as he puffs out, “You really think that would work?”
With a shrug, Tanner does exactly as he’s told and Dad stops midstride, covering his eyes and rerouting his run. When Booker gets a full view of Tanner’s arse, he begins laughing so hard that he has to stop and bend over to catch his breath. I encourage him to keep going and tell him this is his big chance to win. But instead of waiting for him to listen, I rush over and toss him up over my shoulder.
Booker’s laughter is infectious as we run past Dad, who’s walking now and shaking his head at all of us. In our moment of victory, I can’t help but think to myself,Dad isn’t so bad when he’s like this.
Golden beams of light slice through Gareth and Sophia’s hair as the March sun begins to set behind the trees, silhouetting their soccer drills taking place in my backyard. Honestly, the entire view is cinematic. Frame-worthy. Life-changing.
Freya exhales heavily beside me and murmurs, “Good Lord, this is better thanHeartlandand porn combined. This is better thanHeartlandporn. This is better than a filmed sex scene between Ty and Amy Fleming, and you know how much I hate that, that show never gets dirty.”
I whack her on the arm. “That’s my child out there.”
“That’s Gareth Harris out there!” she retorts, her eyes wide on mine as she fans her face. “He’s being so bloody sweet to your child that I think I’ve spontaneously ovulated.”
“Freya!” I scold with a laugh, then look out to enjoy the show again. I mumble under my breath to her, “Although, I will admit that this has been the best two hours of my life in England thus far.”
“Right!” she exclaims and resumes her Gareth watch.
The sight of Gareth playing with Sophia is so beautiful, I want to film it and gift it to crumbling nations to raise spirits.
Sophia’s giggles echo off the house as she stumbles and Gareth scoops her up under the arms, preventing her from crashing to the ground. He kneels down to tie the lace on her cleat, and they appear to be having an entire conversation with each other that I sadly can’t hear.
“What do you think she’s saying to him?” I ask Freya.
“She’s telling him that she wants a little sister or brother.”
“Freya!” I shriek. “You’re the worst.”
“I am not, Sloan. I’m speaking the truth. A man who plays with your child like that is a man who needs to propagate the species.”
I let out a happy sigh that’s mixed with a swoon and topped with a groan. “Is this what happily married couples with children have on a regular basis?”
Freya shakes her head. “Beats me. But I wish it for you, Sloan. God, I really do.”
A few minutes later, Gareth and Sophia have finished playing and we all go inside for dinner. As soon as dinner is over, Freya excuses herself with a wink and heads out back to her guest house. I can tell Sophia is wiped out when she asks to watch a movie as soon as she finishes her meal.
After she changes into her pyjamas, I get her settled in the living room with a movie before rejoining Gareth in the kitchen. I walk in to see he has already cleaned up the entire dinner mess and has moved on to the soccer supplies that are strewn all over the attached mudroom.
“I can get those,” I state, reaching out for Sophia’s cleats.
