Redemption: A British Stepbrother Romance (10 page)

“No, it’s just… well, Oliver told me that you were responsible for arresting the men that attacked Maisie.”

“All in a day’s work,” Hodgson replied casually. “Honestly, it was nothing. Unfortunately, the evidence we had on them wouldn’t stand up in court, but we nailed them for something bigger anyway. They’ll be in prison for years.”

“How did you find them?” I asked.

“Some men matching the description you gave showed up on CCTV a few hundred yards down the road just after the attack. We traced them back to a hardware store they were using as a hideout. We eventually gathered enough evidence for a warrant and managed to lock them up for money laundering, among other things.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s not enough, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Like I said, it’s all in a day’s work. I mean that. There are just as many cases where we don’t catch those involved, so I’m almost as happy as you are that we got the men who attacked you and your sister. I know you both must still have the scars from that night, but they have it worse. I promise you.”

I thanked Hodgson once again and then hung up the phone. The news that our attackers were behind bars should have made me delighted or at least relieved, but for some reason I felt even more on edge than before.

Maybe finding out the men were behind bars was just a huge anti-climax. When I hadn’t known what had happened to them, I could pretend they died a gruesome death after being hit by a bus. Now I knew they were alive and getting three square meals a day.

That might have explained my unease, but I didn’t think so. There was more too it than that, but by the time I fell asleep I was no closer to figuring it out.

When I woke up in the morning, all my energy was focused on Oliver and our disastrous ‘date.’ One problem at a time. At least I could rectify the situation with Oliver. As long as I could find the courage to do so, that is.

M
ichelle
and I spent the next week dancing around the idea of going on another night out. She wanted to—I knew she did—but neither of us wanted to call it a date. In the end, we ate out or went for a drink practically every night, but always with Maisie and Shaun in tow. I loved those kids, but damn, they did tend to cramp my style a bit.

Not to mention, Maisie served as a constant reminder that my relationship with Michelle wasn’t supposed to be physical. I could ignore that, but Michelle had her doubts. It was almost like the closer I got to Maisie, the less chance I had with Michelle, and that was a tough position to be in.

I encouraged Shaun to have friends over so that he could hang out with Maisie again, but he’d retreated into his shell after the last time. Apparently one of his mates had spread the word that Shaun had an empty house, and some guys had come round that he didn’t like. They started getting to him by insulting me, but they didn’t anticipate getting a lesson from Maisie.

That still made me smile, although I’d had a few stern words with her to make it clear she should never do that again. If she went around punching everyone who had an irrational dislike of me then she would end up with bloody knuckles and an intimate familiarity with the English legal system.

My actions in trying to get alone time with Michelle made me feel like we were the kids and Maisie and Shaun were the parents. Weren’t kids the ones who wanted their parents out of the house to fool around?

Sundays were a day off for all of us. Maisie and Shaun didn’t have to train, and I had no game to play. Sundays were also one of my cheat days where food was concerned. I wasn’t technically allowed to eat badly any day of the week, but I found that Sunday was far enough away from my midweek physical that I could get away with it.

I’d invited Michelle out for a meal at the pub, but she’d responded with “
we’d
love to.” After dinner, I could hint that the grown-ups wanted to stay behind and have a drink, but I wouldn’t bet money on Maisie and Shaun picking up on the clue.

I’d headed to Shaun’s room to check if he was ready when I heard my mobile phone ringing. I dashed back to my bedroom hoping that it was Michelle to say that Maisie couldn’t make it tonight, but instead it was a number I didn’t recognize. This phone number hadn’t been given out to many people, and so far I’d manage to avoid prank calls or sales pitches, so I decided to answer it in case it was about training.

“Oliver Cornish?” a female voice asked.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Please hold for Mr. Atkins.”

Atkins? I only knew one Atkins and he was the manager of the England rugby team.

There was a beep, followed by a voice I recognized from television. “Oliver, this is Vinnie. Vinnie Atkins.”

“Mr. Atkins. It’s a pleasure to speak to you.”

I sounded a little like a star struck teenager, and to a certain extent I was. I’d met pretty much everyone important in rugby over the last few years, but I’d never met the current England manager. We’d even been at the same charity events on occasion, but never crossed paths.

“Call me Vinnie,” he insisted. “It’s about time we spoke.”

“Of course. I’ve been hoping to speak to you for a while, but I’m afraid this isn’t a great time.” I could hear Shaun downstairs by the front door waiting for me, and if we left much later we would be late. I didn’t like to keep ladies waiting.

“It won’t take long,” Vinnie said. “Listen, I don’t know all the details about this whole situation with you and the national team. I wasn’t manager back in 2007 so I only know what was in the papers.”

“I retired from international rugby,” I explained.

“Yes, yes, I know that. And I assume the reason was because you fluffed that kick in the final.”

“Yes,” I lied. There was more to it than that. A lot more.

“Well, listen, that was a long time ago. Your performances on the pitch since then have been nothing short of sublime. I want you back in the team, and I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes you do. Look, I’ve watched your games a lot lately, and the one thing that’s obvious is your passion for the sport. Other than that one mistake, you always showed that same spirit when you had the England shirt on. What can I say to convince you?”

There was no reason I couldn’t play for England again. I’d quit rugby for a year because of what happened with Shaun’s dad, but then that problem sorted itself out with the arrest of the men responsible. I was safe to play rugby again, and that included playing for England.

I had memories of playing for England. Not good ones. Memories of a single second that still haunted me even now. They probably always would, unless I took the opportunity to right those wrongs.

If I could perform to the best of my ability in an England shirt, then that would go a long way to making up for my past mistakes. Maybe I would even start sleeping better at night. That would be nice.

“You’re going to get a lot of grief from the public,” I said. “If you call me up, some people will accuse you of being desperate.”

“Not to my face they won’t,” Vinnie joked. At least I think he was joking.

“They’ll show that clip of me missing the kick on a constant loop.”

“Yep, probably. But I figure you’ve seen that enough times in your head anyway.”

I laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Excellent. I’m going to announce the squad tomorrow. You know what this means right?”

“I’m going to have to learn the words to the national anthem again?”

Vinnie gave a hearty laugh. “Yeah, that’s a bugger isn’t it? But the bigger picture is the World Cup. It’s only a few months away and I’m not going to beat about the bush—if you play well, you’re in the squad.”

“No pressure then.”

“This is the big one as well. It’s on home soil. I don’t need to tell you how big an opportunity this is. You help England win the World Cup and no-one will ever talk about 2007 again. It’ll be like it never happened. You can forget all about it.”

I thanked Vinnie, and ended the call, already running five minutes late for dinner. Vinnie meant well, but he obviously didn’t know me very well if he thought I would ever forget about 2007. That wasn’t the year I fluffed my lines in the World Cup Final. It was the year Gary died, and no amount of success on the pitch would ever bring him back.

“
O
h
. My. God,” Maisie exclaimed, reminding me—and everyone else in the pub who turned to stare—of Janice from
Friends
. “You’re going to play for England again? This is so awesome. That means you’ll be in the World Cup.”

“You’re going to play in the World Cup too?” Michelle asked. She looked more concerned than excited. I couldn’t blame her. The last time I played in a World Cup it had nearly destroyed me, and I’d acted like a complete prat to Michelle in the process.

“Yep. It looks that way. Hopefully it’ll go a bit better than last time.”  

“You have to get us tickets,” Maisie said. “I’d do anything to watch a World Cup game.”

“It doesn’t start until September,” I said. “You’ll be back at school by then.”

“But—”

“I suppose you can take a week off,” Michelle said.

“Really?” Maisie and I asked at the same time.

Michelle laughed. “I’m not that cruel, but it’s good to know what you both think.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Maisie said, practically jumping for joy in her seat. “And Shaun can come see the games as well, right?”

“Definitely,” I replied, sharing a knowing look with Michelle. Maisie had developed quite the crush, but Shaun was a closed book as far as women were concerned. I had no idea what he thought of her, although they did spend a fair bit of time together.

Unfortunately, teenage boys were obsessed with how women looked and while I thought Maisie was beautiful, I knew some people would be put off by the burns on her face. I just hoped Shaun was a better man than I had been at his age.

“You need to make sure you get to the final,” Maisie said. “I want to go to that game. You don’t need to win, just get to the final. Once you’re there you can shank all the kicks you like.”

“Maisie,” Michelle scolded.

I burst into laughter. “Thank you, Maisie. I’ll try to remember that. Don’t shank kicks until the final. Don’t shank kicks until the final.”

We carried on eating dinner, but despite Michelle and I trying to drag the meal out, it soon came to an end. Michelle had been trying to say something to me all evening, but each time she opened her mouth she would just ask Maisie what her food was like, or ask Shaun how training was going.

Finally, she looked at me and asked if I would do her a favour. I’d do anything for her right now.

“Of course,” I replied. “Just name it.”

“I have some friends in London,” Michelle said. “They’re studying at LSE and want to meet up.”

“You need a lift?” I asked.

“Actually, I was hoping you would come along. I might have told them that I know a famous rugby player, and we were hoping to get into a nice bar without lining up. Fancy tagging along.”

“Michelle, that’s kind of rude,” Maisie scolded. She didn’t want to miss an opportunity to tell off her older sister.

“It’s fine,” I insisted. “I could use a night out. You two want to hang out at my place?”

“Fine with me,” Maisie said, looking hopefully at Shaun.

“Sounds good,” Shaun said.

“Can we trust you to behave this time?” I said, only slightly in jest.

Shaun nodded. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s tomorrow night,” Michelle said. “Want to take the train in to London?”

“Sure,” I replied.

I knew we wouldn’t be getting a train anywhere. Michelle’s story about having friends at LSE sounded a little too made up. We’d be heading somewhere local, and this time I was convinced we’d be back at the hotel before nine o’clock.

I shared a look with Michelle, trying to convey that I’d picked up on the real intent of tomorrow night. The story about going into London was just a cover to hide our intentions from the kids and finish up where we had left off before Maisie’s arrest. It couldn’t come soon enough for my liking.

With any luck we might even skip the meal altogether and just get room service. I was done with the pretence and so was Michelle; time to take things to the next level.

“
S
o we actually are meeting your
friends, then?” Oliver asked, sounding slightly surprised.

“Yes, of course. I have friends at LSE. I told you about them last night didn’t I?”

“Yes, it’s just… never mind. I’ll go buy some train tickets.”

This evening had taken a lot of effort on my part, but I now felt under intense pressure to make the most of it. I was going drinking with Oliver, and this time we would be in a bar or nightclub where the atmosphere was geared around making sure people could hook up. It had to happen tonight. If not tonight, then when?

I’d posted a few comments on Facebook letting people know I was in London, and Alisa and Sierra quickly got in touch to say they wanted to meet up. That was the easy bit. The tricky part was having Oliver come along in a way that wouldn’t invite too many questions. I couldn’t introduce him as my step-brother because if things went down as I intended then that would look weird.

I dropped hints to Alisa that I was watching a lot of rugby, and then mentioned that my sister was training with a famous player. Alisa had always been a huge football fan back home and apparently that fandom had quickly converted to rugby in the few months she’d been in England. When I told her that Oliver and I were friends, she insisted I bring him along as well.

So far, so good. I’d expected Oliver to pay for a car to take us into the city, but he seemed to have forgotten to call his driver. Instead we ended up taking the train in, but managed to get some first class seats.

“What are these friends of yours like?” Oliver asked. “Did you go to school with them?”

“Yeah. We were pretty close all the way through until the end of high school.”

“What happened then?”

“They both went to college and I didn’t. We still kept in touch, but their lives have been very different to mine over the last six years, as you can tell from the fact that they are studying at LSE.”

“Why didn’t you go to university in the end?” Oliver asked. “I’m sure I remember your dad talking about that entrance exam you guys take.”

“The SATs. Yeah, I took them, but never went to college.”

“Why not? I know you would have done well in the test. You’re the cleverest person I know.”

“You only know athletes,” I pointed out. “That’s not saying a lot.”

Oliver smiled, and I wished we weren’t sat opposite each other so I could snuggle up to him. I used to associate his smile with arrogance, but now it meant warmth and security.

“Fair enough,” he said. “But you could have gone to a good university as well. Why didn’t you?”

“You know why,” I replied.

Oliver looked genuinely puzzled for a few seconds, but then realization spread across his face. “Maisie?”

I nodded. “Not that I’m blaming her,” I added quickly. “That’s not it at all of course. But after Mom lost her job, I had to earn money to support the family. College wasn’t an option.”

“And you blame yourself,” Oliver said. “For what happened that night.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m being irrational. I blame myself, because I was to blame. It’s quite simple.”

Oliver stared out of the window for a few minutes even though it was dark outside and there wasn’t much to see. “I know I need to do more to earn your trust after the way I treated you all those years ago,” he said, still staring out the window. “But where Maisie is concerned, you do trust me, right?”

“Yes,” I replied instantly. Oliver would do anything for Maisie and Shaun. You only had to look at him around them to know that.

“Then trust me on this: what happened to Maisie was entirely my fault.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop me. “I might as well have been the one to throw the acid over her. I am one hundred percent to blame. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I know you think you should have walked us home, but you wouldn’t have been able to stop the attack. Those men appeared out of nowhere.”

“I can’t say. But trusting me means you have to take my word for it, okay?”

I nodded, but nothing he said made much difference. I knew Oliver was trying to help, but he would never be able to take the guilt away. Why was he so convinced it was his fault anyway? The attack had been completely random, as far as I knew. Certainly no one had any reason to attack Maisie or me.

“Let’s just try to have fun tonight,” I said. “No worrying about Maisie and Shaun. I just want to let my hair down.”

“Deal,” Oliver said. “But in that case, let me choose where we go. I know the owner of a nice little establishment near Leicester Square that I think you’ll like.”

I sent a text to Alisa and Sierra telling them where to meet us and they certainly seemed to approve judging by the enthusiastic responses. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out for a night on the town. I had a feeling this night was going to be a memorable one.

I
met
Sierra and Alisa outside the bar. They’d been standing in line, but I pulled them out and said that we could go straight in thanks to Oliver. He’d already gone inside, so when we dropped his name at the door we were escorted straight to a VIP area at the back of the club.

We had our own table, and the section was raised just enough to make us look important, without feeling completely detached from the rest of the bar.

“Ladies, this is Oliver,” I said, making the introductions. “Oliver, this is Alisa and Sierra.”

“We know who he is,” Alisa said excitedly. “I’ve actually been to a few of your games.”

“You’re a fan of West London?” Oliver asked.

“Uh, no, not exactly. But it’s hard to get tickets for the Harlequins games. I’m sure I could be persuaded to switch allegiances though.”

Oliver laughed, then got the attention of the waitress who would be waiting on us tonight. “I guess I can buy a drink for a Harlequins fan still. You’re not all horrible people, or so I hear.” He ordered a few bottles of champagne, and some food to nibble on. Oliver was always eating.

The table was so big that I had to leave a gap between Oliver and me or it would have looked obvious that I wanted to be with him. When the food arrived, I had an excuse to move up closer to him, but unfortunately Alisa did the same thing.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about you,” Alisa said to Oliver, as she ate some of the chips.

“That sounds incriminating,” Oliver replied.

“Oh no, nothing naughty,” she said with a smile. “Although I’m sure you have plenty of those stories locked away as well. No, I heard you were going to get a call up for the England team.”

“Ah. Well, I couldn’t possibly comment on that.”

“I usually cheer for the American team at the World Cup—even though we suck—but I think I could be persuaded to follow England if there is someone of your—” she eyed him up and down “caliber in the team.”

“Uh, thanks,” Oliver replied awkwardly.

Oh Jesus, she’s flirting with him. Nice work, Michelle. You’ve gone and introduced a rugby star to your confident, flirty, rugby loving friend without thinking things through. I was so bloody bad at this.

“Alisa,” Sierra said, standing up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Alisa said, not looking away from Oliver.

“Maybe you want to come with me,” Sierra said strongly.

Alisa frowned but followed Sierra to the bathroom. “Do women throw themselves at you everywhere you go?” I asked, once they were out of earshot.

“Pretty much,” Oliver replied casually.

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure you don’t go home with every guy who hits on you at a bar.”

“Maybe I do,” I joked.

“You’re a beautiful barmaid,” Oliver said. “If you went home with every guy who hit on you, you’d never get anything done.”

“Alisa’s a nice girl,” I said. “She’s beautiful and clever. You two would make a cute couple.”

“Don’t say things like that. You know I’m not interested in her. There’s only one person here tonight that I want to spend time with. That’s you by the way.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I kind of hoped that’s where you were going.”

“I’m done playing around, Michelle. You know I want you, and I think you want me too.”

I nodded. It was a hugely understated way of explaining how I felt, but no words could have captured it either.

Alisa and Sierra returned from the bathroom and Alisa leaned over and whispered into my ear. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you two were close. My bad.”

I mouthed “thanks” in reply and moved up closer to Oliver. There didn’t seem to be much point in playing coy anymore.

“How about we go dance?” Sierra asked. “There appear to be a few men in here who know what they’re doing.”

“You can leave your jacket at the table,” Oliver said, as we stood up to head to the dance floor. “No one but us is allowed there, so it will be perfectly safe.”

“No, it’s okay,” I replied. “I’ll keep it on.”

I didn’t have any sweaters that were suitable for a night on the town, so I wore a light jacket instead. It looked normal enough to keep it on at the table, but I was going to stand out on the dance floor, where everyone else had shed layers of clothes to get as sweaty and intimate as possible.

Oliver was becoming increasingly suspicious of my constant need to wear one more layer of clothing than was typically required, but I’d been doing it for years and people got used to it in the end.

Alisa and Sierra found men to dance with in just a few minutes, leaving Oliver and I to press against each other and lose ourselves to the music. The dance floor soon got crowded, and strangely that actually helped me relax. We became inconspicuous; just another couple getting physical and hoping for more.

Oliver’s thick arms wrapped around me from behind and held me close to him. I rubbed my ass firmly against his crotch and felt his member under his pants. His fingers moved over my stomach, with his little finger gliding close to my waistband, while his other hand moved down to my thigh.

For the first time, I became aware of just how small I was in comparison to Oliver. I’d always felt short up against him, but now I felt petite and slight under this heavy arms. The hand on my stomach moved up and when the lights dimmed between songs, Oliver took the opportunity to move it to my breast and squeeze gently. Thank God the dance floor was dark, because there had to be a wet patch between my legs right now.

Oliver yelled something into my ear, but the music was too loud to hear anything. He dragged me over to the side and pressed me up against a wall, further away from all the speakers.

“We need to leave soon,” he said. “I can’t take this any longer. Let’s go to a hotel.”

His hand squeezed my ass, and I let out a gasp that hopefully no-one could hear over the music. “We can’t,” I replied.

“I need you,” Oliver growled.

“No hotel,” I said, unable to speak in complete sentences as he pressed himself against me. “Shaun and Maisie will get suspicious. Let’s go back to yours. Pretend I just crashed in a spare room.”

Oliver nodded and tried to drag me out of the bar immediately. I smiled at his eagerness, but insisted on saying goodbye to Alisa and Sierra first. They both gave me knowing smiles and wished me a fun evening. I hadn’t spoken to them that much, but they’d understand.

Oliver insisted on a cab even though it was nearly an hour drive, and he couldn’t keep his hands off me the entire way back. He tried to remove my jacket, but I insisted on keeping it on. I don’t know why; he was going to see me naked soon enough.

I couldn’t keep my arm hidden forever. In a few hours he would see all of me, and I had no idea how he’d react. Some men had run a mile at the sight of those burn marks. Oliver was better than that. At least, I hoped he was.