Page 99 of Sweeper
I tense and force myself to play it cool when I turn on my heel to face Vaughn. He closes the distance between us, his steely-blue eyes severe on me. “Missed three days of training, son. How are you?”
“Food poisoning, but I’m fine now,” I reply gruffly. What’s another lie at this point?
“You look a little rough still.” He eyes me seriously, his face bending with sympathy. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with what’s going on between you and Daphney, would it?”
“What?” I jerk back in confusion. “How do you—?”
“Hayden mentioned something to me,” Vaughn says, sighing heavily. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Absolutely not,” I snap, my tone bordering on disrespectful.
What is it with this fucking family? Why is everyone in each other’s business all the damn time? Daphney’s not even a member of the Harris family, and they still have to get involved in her fucking life? And why the hell did Daphney’s brother have to tell Daddy Harris shit that has nothing to do with him? This is why I need to get away from this family.
Vaughn watches me carefully for a moment before reaching out to touch my shoulder. “You know, son…”
“I really should go warm up,” I state in a hurry, cutting him off because the last thing I need is paternal vibes coming from this man right now. “I’ll be good for Saturday, I swear.”
Vaughn nods slowly, silently dismissing me. My cleats clack on the concrete as I make my way out onto the field and hope that Coach Zion has an extra dose of sadism for me today. I sure as fuck need it.
My muscles are jelly as I trudge home in the cold London air. A text from my mom after practice said she was in a cab and on her way to Old George, where I told her to meet me. I wanted to have this conversation in public because I need my mom to keep it together long enough to give me answers. And frankly, I’m not ready to invite her into my apartment. My life here in London feels like something she doesn’t deserve to be a part of yet, especially if a lot of what Santino said turns out to be true. I know that it’s possible Daphney will be there. A part of me wants her to be, and a part of me doesn’t.
I don’t know where I stand with her, honestly. It’s clear she wants nothing to do with me, but now I sort of wonder if I’m better off without her. At first, I wanted to stay in London so I could slowly win back her trust, but deep down, I’m disappointed in her too. The fact that she can’t extend me even a modicum of grace through a very hard ordeal cuts me deep. It was so easy for her to throw me away after one mistake. Maybe Vaughn Harris would have chosen to throw me away as well if my mother ever sent him that letter.
When my mom confirms what I already know to be true today, what will the rest of the Harris family even think? Odds are they aren’t going to take kindly to a guy who infiltrated their group under the guise of a friend and teammate, only to be duping them the entire fucking time. I sure as fuck wouldn’t welcome that guy with open arms.
I handled this entire scenario so fucking wrong. And Daphney was my one saving grace. My safe space. She was the one person in my life I could count on and now…she’s dumped me without a second thought.
As I step into the familiar pub of Old George, my eyes instantly go to the bar in search of her. I can’t help it. It’s a fucking habit of the heart that will take some time to break.
Hubert looks up from what he’s doing and offers me a slight wave. Even he looks like he hates me. My eyes scan the rest of the pub, and in the corner, I spot her…the woman who gave birth to me.
“Hey, buddy!” my mom croaks as she rises out of her chair and waves at me.
She looks smaller than I remember. Her short brown hair is still the same blunt bob cut it has been for the better part of a decade, but her frame seems to have shrunk since I last saw her. And she looks like she’s aged several years.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, walking over to her and hunching down to give her a hug.
She trembles in my arms, and I hear her choking back a cry. “I can’t believe I’m here in London. I haven’t been here since before you were born.”
We part, and I offer her a half-smile. “I can’t believe it either.” I remove my backpack and gesture for her to sit back down. “Can I get you a drink?” I ask, struggling to make eye contact. “I have to order it at the bar.”
“Um, I’ll do a coffee if they have that here.”
I nod and retreat to the bar to get two cups of coffee and a small jug of cream for my mom. My hands are trembling when I walk back over with them, feeling her eyes on me the entire time.
“Is it possible you’ve grown since Christmas?” She laughs, but it’s weak.
I push the mug and cream in front of her. “They train me pretty hard over here.”
“Clearly,” she says, staring at my arms. “Your coat barely fits you anymore.”
“It fits okay,” I reply, staring down at my coffee.
She makes a little sing-songy noise in her throat. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here? I was worried you were injured, but you seem okay to me.”
I shake my head and force myself to look into her eyes. They’re a lovely shade of brown. My dad’s were green. I always thought my hazel eyes were a combination of the two of them. I guess that thought would be wrong.
Steeling myself, I begin to have the conversation I should have had with her ages ago. “Mom, I need you to tell me why you called the club lawyer, Santino Rossi, seven months ago.”
