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Unfortunately, my luck had run out because he swiped it from the floor. “What’s this?”
My mouth was dry. I cleared my throat. “Don’t open it until I’m gone.”
His brows lifted, but he just shook his head, turning in the direction of the kitchen. I followed him down the hallway, casting around for a subject that would keep his attention from the letter.
“Are you sure you don’t want to move out of here?” Taking a seat at the kitchen table—the same dented and scratched pine one that had been here all my life—I glanced up at him. “You know I can help.”
“I’ve told you already, I’m happy here. I’ve got my mates down the road, the local pub, and now they’ve built that new Tesco, I don’t even need to drive anywhere for food.”
Stubborn bastard. I’d offered to buy him a new place when I’d received my signing bonus and again at the beginning of the new season. Both times, he’d shut me down straight away, insisting that he would never move.
“Fine.” I sighed. “What about a new car? Yours is more rust than metal at this point. I could get you a really nice hybrid.”
“Those electric cars are more hassle than they’re worth. Two Jugs John says you can’t charge ’em anywhere.”
“Two Jugs John knows nothing,” I stated. My dad shouldn’t be taking advice from a man who got his nickname from downing two giant jugs of snakebite, one after the other, and then got so drunk he trashed the local pub, causing hundreds of pounds’ worth of damage. “There’s three charging points at the new Tesco, and anyway, I’m talking about a hybrid that charges itself. You still have to put petrol in it.”
“I suppose that might be okay,” he allowed, and I caught the amused smile he was trying to hold back. Rolling my eyes at him, I folded my arms on the tabletop. I knew he was trying to wind me up, and it was working, damn him.
“It’s a deal. It can be your birthday present. I’ll even let you choose the make and model.”
“From your pre-approved list?”
“Obviously.”
We grinned at each other, and then he turned away to pull mugs from the cupboard, dropping teabags inside them.
While he was busy making the tea, I took the chance to pull up my group chat. Some of my teammates were coming over to my house tonight to play poker. I’d purposely organised it because I knew I wouldn’t want to be alone with my thoughts after today, and my friends would provide a helpful distraction.
I was in the middle of replying to Reuben, telling him to bring Chilli Heatwave Doritos because they were the only acceptable savoury poker snack, in my opinion, when I heard a sound that filled me with horror.
The rip of an envelope being opened.
My blood turned to ice.
“Jord…what’s this?” My dad spoke slowly.
Oh, fuck. My phone dropped to the table as I buried my head in my arms. “I told you not to open it until I was gone.”
The blood was rushing in my ears, but over it, I heard the crinkle of paper, my dad muttering something under his breath, and then the clinking of a teaspoon against ceramic.
There was a soft thud in front of me. My dad cleared his throat. “Drink your tea, son.”
Gritting my teeth, I lifted my head from my arms. To begin with, I only focused on my mug, a curl of steam coming from the top.
When I dared to raise my eyes to my dad, he was staring down at his own mug.
“It’s always been you and me. Walking you to school in the mornings before I had to be on the building site, up until you started senior school. Our weekends at Barnwood Park, cheering Glevum on. Going to the chippy on the way home.” He exhaled heavily. “I’ve always been so proud of you, you know. When you got a place at the youth academy, I told everyone. Everyone at work. All the lads at the pub. Then you got the contract with Forest Green Rovers. It hit me then.”
Picking up his mug, he sipped his tea. I followed suit, managing to gulp down some of the soothing liquid, despite my trembling hands and tightness in my throat.
“You were my son, but you were suddenly an adult. You had a career doing something you loved, something you were passionate about. Something that so few of us get to experience. You always lit up when you played football, Jord. It was clear to me that this was your path.”
His voice cracked, and I watched the stoic man I knew as my dad cast around for words. “Let me make one thing clear. This letter. I don’t care who or what you’re into. The only thing that matters to me is that you keep playing football for as long as you can, because that—that lights you up like nothing else.”
I couldn’t breathe. “You…you don’t care if I’m into men as well as women?” I managed to choke out.
His eyes met mine, and he gave a small shake of his head. “Not gonna lie, it’ll be an adjustment for me. It’s just…you’ve never given me any indication before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t support you. Just give me a minute to get my head around it all, okay?”
