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“Mummy, you’re blocking the TV,” Keegan grumbles, his face screwed up in a disgruntled expression that’s so much like his father’s it makes my heart twinge.
Courtney just chuckles and stands up, ruffling Keegan’s blond curls. “Alright, I’m off. Thanks, Archie.”
“Can we go to the park?” Keegan asks about twenty minutes after Courtney has left.
I hesitate, not sure about whether we should be leaving the house. But the beseeching look on Keegan’s face is so adorable, it’s impossible to say no. Besides, the park is literally just up the street—how much trouble could we get into?
“Alright, why not?” Remembering the unexpected visitors last time I was in the park with Keegan, I add, “But just you and me this time, okay? If you want to have a kick around with your friends again we’ll need your dad there.”
“Yeah, okay. I guess we need someone to coach the losing side.”
I shake my head, biting my lip to hold in a laugh. Bloody hell, kids can be brutal.
I slip on a pair of trainers and a hoodie, then quickly text Tom to let him know where we are in case he gets home before we do. Then we’re heading out the door, Keegan skillfully dribbling the football in front of him as we make our way to the park.
We kick the ball around for a little while, and Keegan shows off with some head and chest bumps. It’s hardly surprising that he’s already showing so much talent, but even more amazing is the way he just absolutely radiates joy when he’s playing. That’s what it’s about when it all comes down to it, isn’t it?
I’m about to suggest we call it a day, when a blur of grey fur comes bounding up to us, narrowly avoiding a football to the head.
“Oh, you alright there, buddy?” I ask the dog, reaching out to pat its matted fur. I’m not sure what the breed is, but it's grey and shaggy and about medium-sized. Maybe a Schnauzer mix of some sort, if I had to guess.
Whatever the breed, it’s clearly been on an adventure, because there’s mud and grime caked into his fur. He has a collar on, though, and there’s a red lead trailing from it, so he must have broken free from a dog-walking group or something.
“Can I keep him, Archie?” Keegan asks, crouching down by the dog and wrapping his arms around it. Sure enough, half the grime on the dog’s fur transfers itself onto Keegan’s white t-shirt.
“Mate, he’s someone’s dog. We need to find out who he belongs to.” I cast my eyes about our surroundings, but I can’t see anyone frantically looking for a dog. Reaching down, I grab the dog’s collar and find a tag with a phone number on it. “Here, there’s a number to call. We’ll find his owners and take him home.”
“But I really want to keep him,” Keegan pouts.
I offer an affectionate smile. “Sorry, mate. He needs to go home, he’ll be missing his owners.”
Keegan remains petulant for a moment, then lets out a dramatic sigh of resignation. “I guess. Can I hold the lead for now, but?”
“That, you can definitely do.”
Chapter twenty-three
Tom
Iwalkthroughthefront door hours later than I thought I would be. Fucking sponsors. If it wasn’t for the fact I wanted to make sure I made as much money as possible to last me through my retirement and set up Courtney and Keegan, I’d tell the lot of them to fuck off.
Hearing the TV, I head towards the living room hoping to fuck that Archie took me seriously and is waiting for me naked and lubed up.
What I see stops me in my tracks.?Archie and Keegan cuddled together on the sofa asleep, while The Lego Movie plays on the telly. The sight of them makes my heart expand.
It’s the dog lying across the both of them that gives me pause. It’s a grey furball that looks as though it hasn’t been bathed in a year. And for some reason it’s making itself at home inmyhouse.
As though sensing my presence, the dog opens its eyes and stares at me. And then it stretches out a paw to lay over Archie’s arm in what I can only describe as a possessive gesture.
“Oh, I don’t think so, mate,” I growl, glaring at the intruder who thinks he can just come in and lay a? claim onmyboyfriend.
“Huh?” Archie mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, no doubt woken by my outburst. He smiles when he sees me. “You’re back.”
“Why the fuck is there a dog draped all over you?”
He blinks down, as though he’d forgotten about the furry mutt using him as a pillow. “Oh. Keegan found him in the park. I tried calling the number on the tag but no one answered. Come on, buddy,” he says to the dog. “Up you get.”
The dog ignores the command, instead snuggling in closer and shooting me a challenging look.What the fuck?
