AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The kitchen.” His dad’s clipped voice carried over the short distance. There wasn’t a hello. There certainly weren’t warm embraces like Carol did or Alfred and Betty had. No, his father didn’t even give him a full sentence. Liam’s gut cramped. As much as he wanted to be strong, it was the little things—more so than the big things—that cut Liam deepest. He sucked in a breath, straightening his spine again, and took another step.
King rested his hand on Liam’s shoulder, his touch like a silent sentinel. A brick wall of strength behind him. Liam leaned back, and King squeezed his shoulder gently. He’d never been more grateful for that touch.
“When did you get back?” he asked, his voice a higher pitch than normal. Liam cleared his throat, refusing the temptation of slinking back and hiding behind King.
Movement at the back door caught his attention. Lij. He hadn’t heard the gate close or his friend trudging over the rocks. He flicked his gaze between his lover and his best friend, and their worried gazes slayed him. Liam crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to let his parents see the shake in them. All he had to do was figure out how long they were there for. He could make nice—he could even make himself scarce if he had to—and then they’d be gone and things would go back to normal.
“Saturday morning.” His mum leaned against the kitchen bench and raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been cleaning since we arrived. You left the place in a horrible mess.” That was bullshit. He had a cleaner come in weekly to make sure that the basics got done. He looked after his laundry and the dishes. The only thing that was a mess was the kitchen table, and that was because he was elbow deep in studying.
He flicked his eyes to the table and his gut clenched. It was completely cleaned off. Where were his things? King stiffened beside him, following his line of sight, and Liam shot him a small smile. He didn’t know whether he was trying to reassure King or himself that everything was okay, but neither worked.
“Where are my things that you cleaned off the table?” he asked through clenched teeth.
This time his dad didn’t even answer. He simply waved over his shoulder to the corner where there was a black rubbish bag by the door. They’d cleaned up all right. Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. At least they hadn’t emptied it outside yet.
Lij took the opportunity to stride in and announce himself. “Mr and Mrs Masters, welcome home.” He clapped his hands together, his voice overly bright. Lij was good at putting on an act, treating them as if they were his long-lost best friends. But Lij hated the sight of them.
When they were kids, the man he considered his brother from another mother had come up with an elaborate plot to rob a bank and pin it on his parents so they went to jail. Then they would use the money to pay for Liam’s adoption into Lij’s family, and a kick-arse rugby coach so Liam could turn pro. They were going to top off their criminal masterpiece with a bestselling novel and movie rights.
Lij didn’t wait for a reply from his parents; they rarely acknowledged him either. Lij simply mouthed, “You okay?” to Liam, his gaze bouncing between him and King. Liam gave him a barely perceptible nod and moved to collect the rubbish bag again, but Lij was closer. He picked it up on his way past, crossing through the room and handing it to Liam.
“Hey, King.” They gave each other a back slapping hug as Liam went down on one knee checking what was in the bag. Sure enough, his papers, textbook, and even his laptop were bagged up, tossed in there without any care.
“Good to see you, Eli,” King greeted, hovering over Liam, touching his shoulder.
He sucked in a breath and retied the bag, placing it gently with his duffle by the garage door. King’s piercing gaze followed him to the garage, and from the corner of his vision, he could see Lij shifting. He was watching them both, trying to figure out where their easy familiarity came from. A lot had happened in the weeks since Lij had seen them together. Since then, King had spent a lot of time touching him, and Liam spent even more leaning into that touch.
But as he returned to the main room, King moved closer to his father. He was brave and demanded respect. But this time, the respect wasn’t for himself—at least not entirely. His father’s habit of just ignoring the people he didn’t deem worthy of his time wouldn’t hold water with King. It didn’t surprise him that he’d moved to stand directly in front of his father, close enough that he couldn’t ignore King anymore.
“Mr Masters, I’m Kingston Vella.” He held his hand out, and with his lips curled in disdain, his father shook it. When he quickly withdrew his hand, unconsciously rubbing his knuckles, Liam bit back a smirk. Score one to his man. King’s grip strength was nothing to laugh about. He could be infinitely gentle, his whisper-soft caress one that could leave a person begging for more, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that King had just squeezed the crap out of his father’s hand.
“Kingston.”
The awkward silence stretched on for a beat until Liam cleared his throat. “How long are you here for?”
“We’re back permanently. Your sister and Michael will be here before Christmas. They closed on their new house last week and they’re staying with us until it’s renovated. It took longer than expected to find something they were both happy with close by, so it doesn’t look like they’ll be in when the baby’s born. But that’s good because we can help them out. It’ll be so lovely to have them here.”
“Oh. So you’re all moving back?” Liam murmured.
“Yes, we’ll need your room for the baby.” His mum peered at him over her glasses, her face passively waiting for a reaction from him. But shock rendered him mute. Had he heard her correct? “In case you didn’t understand, you’ll need to find your own place. We’ve helped you out for long enough, and it’s time you stop taking advantage. Nessa and Michael need our help now.”
Liam opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. They’d helped him for long enough? Taking advantage? Of what? He paid them twice what the rent for an equivalent property was. He gave them money whenever they asked for it, and not small amounts either—close to a hundred thousand dollars over the last year. Was she serious?
His gaze bounced between his parents, but his father was scrolling on his tablet. Liam blinked. Turned his attention back to his mother.
“What?” King snapped at the same time as he questioned, “You said they settled on the house last week. How long have you known this was happening?”
His mum waved off his question as if he was being ridiculous. “Oh, Nessa always planned on having the baby here on the Coast. They’ve been looking for a house since she fell pregnant. Michael received the offer to transfer his job back to Brisbane at the same time, so we’ve all been looking forward to it. It’s wonderful, yes?”
He ignored her question as his gut bottomed out. He was always the last person considered, but the first they went to when they wanted something. He was a pushover.Liam’s a pro-footballer. He has so much money; it’s not like he’ll miss it. And he’s sponging off us anyway. He should help.He could just imagine the conversation they’d have behind his back. They were delusional, the lot of them. He’d hoped, when his parents had excitedly bragged about his sister introducing them to Michael, that the man might round off some of their sharp edges. But he was worse than them. Self-absorbed and up himself. He fit right in.
“So, you’ve known for months? And you wait to tell me I need to move out the day you get here—”
“It’s not our problem that you weren’t here.”
“What bloody difference will a day make?” he seethed. His voice wobbled, anger, frustration and betrayal bubbling under the surface. Why? What was so inherently unlovable about him that he was so easy to disregard? To toss aside? “I’ve got nowhere to go. It’s less than two weeks until Christmas. I have pre-season training and assessments due soon. I can’t just up and leave with no notice.” His heart beat faster, his breathing rushing through his lungs. Panic clawed up his throat, overwhelming his ability to think straight. What the hell was he going to do?
Wide-eyed, he looked to Lij. The man’s face was red and every muscle in his body taut. If looks could kill, the murderous glare he was shooting at Liam’s mother would incinerate her on the spot. King shifted in front of him, his hands landing on his shoulders, thumbs at his neck. Standing close enough that he blocked his view of the two people who just didn’t give a damn about him, Liam looked up into eyes the colour of dark chocolate and his breath hitched. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. Why were they intent on hurting him? He didn’t want to let his parents see they effect they had on him, but his shaking was impossible to miss.
