Текст книги "Redemption: A Stepbrother Romance"

Автор книги: Jessica Ashe

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

It had just turned one in the morning when I heard the key in the lock that finally told me Oliver was home. I leapt out of my seat, giving Maisie, who had fallen asleep on my shoulder, a sudden wake-up call in the process.

I ran up to Oliver and threw my arms around him. “We were so worried,” I said, holding back tears. I’d been trying to keep a brave face for Maisie and Shaun, but now all the fears I had been hiding came leaping up to the surface. “Why didn’t you call? What took you so long?”

Oliver laughed. “Nice to see you too.” He kissed me on the cheek, and went into the living room before collapsing down on the sofa. “One question at a time please.”

I sat down next to Oliver, and noticed some dried blood on the back of his head. “You can start with explaining the blood,” I said. “Who did that?”

“It doesn’t matter who?” Oliver said. “I took a knock when I went in there and confronted Hodgson. I’m fine now.”

“Why did you confront Hodgson? I told Winston what was going on so that you wouldn’t have to do that. Did he not get there in time?”

“Yes, he did. But he wanted me to go in there and get a confession from Hodgson. I was only too happy to oblige. Speaking of which, are you going to explain how you figured out Hodgson was the one behind it, not Winston? Because that has me stumped.”

I grinned sheepishly. I had to admit, I was rather proud of that, but it didn’t seem like the time to be bragging.

“Yeah,” Maisie said, still in the process of waking up. “I’m still confused about that as well.”

“You helped,” I said to Maisie. “And you Shaun. You needing to pee came at a good moment.”

Shaun and Maisie looked at each other, and both shrugged their shoulders.

“You’re really going to milk this, aren’t you?” Oliver teased.

“Hell yes. It’s probably not going to be all that exciting, now you’ve made a big deal out of it.”

“That’s fine,” Oliver said. “I’ve had more than enough excitement for one night as it is.”

“The word ‘bathroom’ was what finally made everything click. Shaun said he was going to the toilet and Maisie told him to use the American term. In every conversation we’d had with Hodgson she would use some American terms. Instinctively, I knew something was off, but I couldn’t figure out what.”

Oliver nodded. “She said she was on her way to the bathroom when we bumped into her in the police station,” he said. “I remember that, but I assumed she was doing it for your benefit.”

“So did I. But then she also told you to take off your Chargers hat which she must have recognized from the logo. The San Diego Chargers are hardly a big franchise in the US, let alone the UK, so it seemed odd she would know them from just that weird symbol without any writing.”

“Unless she spent a lot of time in a US bar,” Oliver added.

“Exactly. And she also told me to try a lager with Sprite, not lemonade, like you people call it. She must have picked that up from a US bar.”

“I’m all for Americanisms being criminalized,” Oliver said, “but it’s a bit much to call the police on someone for saying a few of them.”

“Better get used to them, Olly,” Maisie said. “You’re coming to live with us soon and it’s going to be awesome.”

I laughed, as Olly cringed. “There was something else too,” I added. “It’d been bugging me for ages, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I spoke to Hodgson a while back to thank her for putting the men who attacked us behind bars. She said ‘Some men matching the description you gave showed up on CCTV a few hundred yards down the road.’ And then there was a mention of Maisie and me having scars from that night.”

Maisie and Shaun both looked confused, but Oliver figured it out right away. “You never told the police about your burns,” he said, “so how would Hodgson have known you were both injured in the attack?”

“And neither Maisie nor I gave a description of the attackers, because we didn’t see them. I’m just kicking myself for not spotting it sooner. It’s been on my mind for ages, but I could never put the pieces together.”

“I think I can let you off for that,” Oliver said, putting his arm around me, and kissing my forehead. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

I turned to look up at him and mouthed the words back hoping Maisie wouldn’t notice. I should have known better.

“Okay,” Maisie said slowly. “I guess we had better give you two some privacy.”

Maisie and Shaun left us alone, but they needn’t have bothered. We were both too tired to do anything other than cuddle.

Oliver told me all the details about what happened, which set me off crying again. He didn’t admit it, but I could hear from the strain in his voice that he had been scared.

Now it was all over. We could all close the door on that awful chapter of our lives. Now I could watch the World Cup, and truly enjoy it no matter what the outcome.

–*-

“I don’t think I can watch,” Maisie said, covering her eyes with her hands and then peaking through a gap in her fingers.

“These seats are worth thousands of pounds,” I said. “You should probably make the most of it.”

“I just wish one team would win it comfortably, so I could relax either way. This back and forth thing is too painful.”

I knew what she meant. After a convincing semifinal win, England had been made clear favorites to win the World Cup, but after a number of injuries in the first twenty minutes, New Zealand had pulled back the deficit and early in the second half they took the lead.

I had no idea how professional athletes coped with the pressure. I was a nervous wreck and so were Maisie and Shaun. Those two were supposed to be used to the pressure of playing competitive sport, but right now you’d think they’d never watched a game before.

“At least Olly’s playing well,” Shaun said. “The press all built this up as the moment he would redeem himself for 2007.”

“He’s already done that,” I insisted. “England wouldn’t be in the final now if it weren’t for him.”

“No need to convince me,” Shaun said. “But you know what the press is like. Anything to sell papers and get clicks.”

The press would have a field day when the full-story about Oliver’s involvement in the sting operation came out. Gary’s death would end up being in the news again, so we’d all agreed to take a vacation the minute things were leaked, to protect Shaun as much as possible.

Shaun always tried to put a brave face on things, but the confirmation that his father’s death hadn’t been an accident had hit him hard. Maisie comforted him as best she could, but I could tell he needed Oliver’s support. The second this game was over he’d have Oliver’s complete attention.

Well, maybe not his complete attention. We’d been sending each other explicit messages for the last few days of forced separation, and I knew we would both be desperate for some alone time come the end of the game.

England were a point down going into the final minutes, and I could feel the tension pulsing through the crowd. The English fans far outnumbered the Kiwis, and they were doing their best to spur their team on, but the players must have picked up on the apprehension.

Every attack ended with a misplaced pass, but the Kiwis seemed to be just as nervous, kicking the ball clear every time and giving it straight back to the English instead of trying to build possession and run down the clock.

“Stoppage time,” Maisie said. “Next time the ball goes out of play the game’s over.”

England lost the ball, but then an English forward charged it down when a New Zealander went to kick the ball into touch. There was a New Zealand knock-on and England were awarded a scrum.

“That’s too far out,” I said, looking at the distance from where Oliver was standing to the goalposts. The team was planning to get the ball to Oliver as soon as possible for him to attempt a drop goal. The move was identical to the one in 2007, except the kick was further out.

“He’s kicked from there before,” Shaun said. “He usually misses mind you.”

England put the ball into the scrum and the scrum-half stood there waiting for the exact right moment to make the pass.

It was all over in a few seconds. The scrum-half picked up the ball and passed it to Oliver. The ground went silent. In a few moments it would either erupt in a roar of ecstasy or a drown in a groan of despair.

Maisie reached out and grabbed hold of my hand, as we watched Oliver swing his leg back and kick the ball.

Six Months Later

We settled on Southern California. After growing up with a fair share of rain, Oliver and Shaun both wanted to live somewhere that was sunny most of the year round. Ironically, our closest football team was now the San Diego Chargers.

We still had to go back to England for Christmas though. Apparently, Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas without rain and the promise of snow that would never show up. I would never completely understand the English mentality towards weather.

We moved into a house near the waterfront, and Oliver bought a boat even though he had no idea what to do with it. All the neighbors had one, and he didn’t want to feel left out.

After the World Cup, Oliver spent a few weeks participating in the celebrations, like the open-top bus tour where the players paraded the trophy through London, and the visit to Downing Street that gave the Prime Minister a chance to get in on the feeling of euphoria generated by the win.

Everybody wanted to be seen with the trophy, and everyone wanted to be seen with Oliver. Things were crazy, and I couldn’t wait to leave for the US just to escape the madness. But then news of the betting scandal broke, and the craziness went up a level.

Oliver recorded a two-hour long interview that completely explained his part in what happened, going all the way back to 2007. I couldn’t bring myself to watch it, but the consensus was that he had done nothing wrong given the threats to his family, and the involvement of the police.

I suspected that people would be a lot angrier if they weren’t still giddy from the 2015 victory, but either way I was pleased to see that Oliver wasn’t vilified by the public.

Some of the more unsavory members of the press started to follow Shaun around, so we got out of the country soon after the interview became public.

Maisie wanted to live with Oliver and I, but even though her and Shaun were just friends—supposedly—I thought it best she live with Mom for the time being. Maisie kicked up a fuss until she found out that Oliver had bought a place for Mom to live just a ten-minute drive from us.

Maisie’s new school didn’t play rugby, and there was no league for her to play in at weekends, but miraculously a women’s rugby league soon popped up and girls were encouraged to join teams and start playing. The league promoted the game heavily, and it was free to participate. I dreaded to think how much Oliver had spent on the whole thing, but it kept Maisie happy and that was priceless to both of us.

Shaun didn’t need anyone to set up a rugby league. In his new high school, he went to a training session for the football team and was immediately drafted in as a running back. Years of running with the ball in rugby apparently made football seem rather easy in comparison. He barely broke a sweat and often complained that there was far too much sitting around for his liking.

He still had a few years before having to worry about college, but it looked like he would be choosing his future based on the sports program and not the quality of education.

Oliver found the whole “college sports” system strange, but since he’d never even gone to college he wasn’t in much of a position to tell Shaun what he should do. Besides, Shaun was a smart kid, and we trusted him to make the right decision.

I spent a few months enjoying being a lady of leisure, which essentially meant hanging out with Oliver and having sex whenever we felt like it. That often led to somewhat risky outdoor activities; I couldn’t eat lunch at the golf club anymore without getting a lot of dirty looks. We raked the bunker afterwards, so I don’t know why people got so annoyed. Totally worth it though.

Other than helping out with the new women’s rugby league, Oliver had a stab at organizing charity matches. The soccer match Jaxon had organized gave Oliver the idea of staging a similar event mixing up rugby and football.

Oliver found it easy enough to get a team of rugby players willing to come to the US and take on what they described as “soft” football players, but Oliver didn’t have any football contacts to make up the other team.

Jaxon had more influence in the US, so he made a few calls and eventually Oliver had just about enough players to make for a decent off-season exhibition match. The big name quarterbacks were more than enough to guarantee a massive attendance, with all the ticket proceeds going to charity.

Football was far too tactical for rugby players to pick up without any training, so in the end they played with a mixture of rugby and football players on both sides, like the soccer game had been. Rugby forwards made a good fit for the offensive and defensive lines, and the backs could run and catch the ball with ease.

Shaun, Maisie, and I all sat in the stands to watch the game. Oliver played the first half, but at half time he was replaced with the kicker from the New Zealand team England had beaten in the World Cup final. The two of them appeared to be on remarkably good terms, all things considered.

Oliver came out to the pitch at half time to hold a prize drawing for a pair of tickets to the next Super Bowl. Most of the crowd applauded politely when Oliver was announced as a World Cup winner, but you could tell most people didn’t have a clue who he was.

I heard wolf-whistles from the crowd when he walked back onto the pitch in his rugby kit, so a certain section of the audience appreciated him at least.

“I’d love to go to a Super Bowl,” Maisie said. “Shaun, hurry up and get really good at football, and then get me tickets.”

“I’ve only ever watched one Super Bowl,” Shaun said. “And that was last month. I think I’m a long way from playing in one.”

“I doubt you’d like it,” I said to Shaun. “They’re incredibly over-commercialized now. It’s more about sponsors than the game these days.”

“In that case,” Maisie said. “Can I take your tickets?”

“What tickets?”

“You just won,” Maisie said, pointing to the seat number displayed on the large screens around the stadium.

I hadn’t even heard the announcement. I pulled out my ticket to make sure, but Maisie was right. I’d won.

“I can’t win,” I said. “It’ll look like it’s rigged. Oliver’s only just got out of one betting scandal. We don’t want another one.”

“Oh who cares,” Maisie replied. “Just go down there, smile, and collect the tickets, then give them to a charity auction or maybe your little sister.”

“They’re going to charity,” I said, standing up and beginning the slow descent down the long stairs.

A decent amount of the seats in the ground were empty while people stocked up on food and drink at the interval, but there were still tens of thousands watching me as I made my way down to the field.

Oliver and a camera crew walked over to my side of the field, so at least I didn’t have to trek across there in heels.

I tried to focus on Oliver’s smiling face, and pretend it was just the two of us. I’d never gotten the hang of all the fame that followed Oliver around, and having the attention focused on me was entirely foreign.

Oliver still had a microphone in his hand from when he had announced the winning number. Please don’t make me speak. Please, anything but speaking in front of all these people.

The crowd sounded a lot louder once I was down on the field, but I just about heard someone from the NFL congratulate me on my win.

Oliver passed me the envelope with the tickets and kissed me on the cheek. A photographer insisted on taking a few photos, so Oliver put his arm around me and I just about managed a smile even though I was terrified.

“Now take the tickets out of the envelope and hold them up,” the photographer ordered.

I just wanted to get this over with now, so I opened the envelope and reached inside. “It’s empty,” I said to the photographer.

“They must be in there,” he said. “Look again.”

I held the envelope open and looked inside. “I’m telling you it’s—” The envelope wasn’t empty. Nestled in the corner was something round and incredibly shiny.

I examined the diamond ring between my fingers as if it were the first ring I’d ever seen. It was certainly the first ring anyone had ever bought me, and this one looked a lot like an engagement ring.

I turned to look at Oliver, but he wasn’t next to me anymore. I looked back to the photographer but just saw Oliver on his knees in front of me.

“I know we’ve only been together eight months,” Oliver said, “but we spent eight years apart, so in my book this is long overdue. Michelle, will you marry me?”

Someone shoved a microphone in front of my face, and it was only then I realized his words had been amplified around the entire stadium. The previously empty seats were now full, and every person was eagerly awaiting my response.

None more so than Oliver. “Yes,” I replied, quietly. The microphone didn’t pick up my response, but I was crying now and couldn’t say it again. I looked into Oliver’s eyes and nodded my head vigorously.

He stood up and pushed the microphone out of the way, before placing his hand on the back of my head and pulling me towards him for a kiss.

Maisie later told me that everyone in the crowd was whistling and cheering, but I couldn’t hear anything. At that moment there was only Oliver and me. No one else.

Eventually we were encouraged to head back up to the stands so that the players could get on with the second half. I have no idea what happened. All I can remember is sitting there holding Oliver’s hand with the slight sensation of weightlessness that made me feel like I was flying.

I didn’t stop smiling for at least a week. Even when Dad tried to get in touch to congratulate me, I just kept smiling and told him he could come to the wedding if he wanted. Nothing was going to spoil my mood.

I never did get my Super Bowl tickets, though.

I hope you enjoyed Redemption! I had a tonne of fun writing it. You may not know this, but self-published authors like myself are heavily reliant on reviews to get the word out about our books. It would be a great help to me if you could take a few minutes of your time to write an honest review of the book on Amazon. Just click this link and you will be whisked off to the appropriate page.

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The debut stepbrother romance novel from Jessica Ashe

Last week I made the biggest mistake of my life–Caiden Ramsden. He's a cocky, arrogant prick who is sleeping his way around London. I normally stay well clear of bad-boys, but he's ripped, sexy, and impossible to resist.

I'm supposed to be clever. I'm a straight A student going to the University of Cambridge. So why was I attracted to such an arsehole? I should know better.

Sleeping with him was a big mistake, but I had no idea just how big until he showed up at my house with his mom. Caiden is about to be my new stepbrother. I have to forget what happened between us, but I don't know how to get him out of my head. And I'm not sure I want to.

Women claim to hate me. Apparently I'm arrogant and cocky, but that doesn't stop women lining up to screw me. And they always come back for more. It turns out posh English women love American bad boys.

Sure, I slept around, but I had rules in place. Rules that had served me well until Vicky came into my life.

The Golden Rule = don't sleep with any first-timers.

I had that rule in place for a reason, but I couldn't help myself when Vicky made her intentions clear. I broke the Golden Rule and my world collapsed around me.

Now I needed Vicky in my life, but she was about to be my stepsister. Vicky had given me the most memorable night of my life. Stepsister or not, there was no way I was letting her go without a fight.

This is a standalone novel with a HEA and no cliffhanger. Contains scenes of a sexual nature and is intended for adults only.