I rolled my eyes. “Bloody Carl,” I muttered, standing to tug my trousers back up over my legs. “You can come in.”
Lewis shoved the door open, and I glared.
He laid a hand on his chest. “I’m gutted.”
“Are you?”
“Imagine my surprise when I come in this morning, and Carl informs me that my paragon of a big brother took an American up to my flat for a shag in my pub. I’ve never even done that.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Fine. Once or twice before I married Jo.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Had to go help Mum and Dad with something. I didn’t know you were going to stop by. I always ask when you’re here, and you don’t actually come.” He smiled. “If I’d known, I would’ve forced you to come with me.”
Guilt had me grimacing. My brother, though I loved him, did have a terrible habit of trying to smooth over the rough, dysfunctional edges within our little family. I hardly talked to our parents anymore, a fact that bothered him immensely. But in fairness, they weren’t complete arseholes to him.
“I think I like how I spent my evening better, thank you.”
Lewis laughed. “She must have been fit as all fuck if you took a go at her. I haven’t heard about you with a woman in bloody ages.”
A flash of Lia, uninvited, swept through my mind. Back braced against the wall while she waited for me to kiss her. Yeah … she’d been that and more. Not that I particularly wanted to discuss that with my arsehole brother.
I shoved at his shoulder. “Put a sock in it, Lewis. I’m allowed a night of fun every once in a while, yeah?”
“You’d be a lot more enjoyable to be around if you had nights like that more often.”
Rolling my eyes, I decided not to argue that one with him. It was the great argument between me and my family. Our parents—humble, hardworking stock who came from humble, hardworking stock—couldn’t understand sacrificing my life to playing a game. They were farmers, a cog in a wheel that kept the world, the very framework of society moving. And to them, my career was silly. Shallow.
But they’d never understood.
In that game, I found the great love of my life—the black and white ball and the green grass of the pitch kept me centered. Kept me driving forward and gave me purpose when everything else in my life felt uncertain. A place that I could carve out my legacy and make an impact that would far outlast my days playing the game.
Until the past few seasons, where age was catching up with me far faster than I would’ve liked. Lewis, who did love football, simply wished that I was more present with our family. Or at least put in an attempt, which was the same thing he wished from our parents, who were just as stubborn.
Tugging my shirt back on, I watched Lewis look down at the bottles on the bar cart. “You drinking my whiskey, you prick?”
“Sod off. It was already open.”
He laughed. “I can’t believe you actually drank during the season.”
“I hardly finished either,” I said, quite defensively too. “Less than half a beer and probably two sips of your whiskey.”
Lewis shook his head.
“You’re here early,” I said.
His gaze snapped from the bottles. “Yeah. When Carl told me my big brother not only visited without being guilted into it but also slept here, I decided it warranted investigation.”
My eyes rolled without any conscious decision on my part. “I don’t have to be guilted into visiting.”
“Don’t you?” Lewis tapped his chin. “Yes, I vaguely remember that one time six years ago.”
The truth of it pricked, just a little.
“It’s not like you hop over to Shepperton much either, little brother.” I wiped a hand down my face. “I’m pretty busy during the season, you know.”
“Everyone’s busy in their own way, Jude,” he said evenly. “I worked all day on bookkeeping for the pub, then had to drive out to Mum and Dad’s to help.”
“With what?” Guilt, just as he’d said, had me asking.
“They got some new creep feeding pens that needed set up. Two of his workers are sick, so he needed an extra set of hands with that and measuring the lambs.”
All the things we’d had to help with as boys, all the things I’d hated to do. “I tried to send them a check last year, told him to hire more people so they didn’t have to work as hard.”
“Some people like working hard on their own land,” Lewis answered. “Not everything can be handled with a check, big brother.”
“So I gathered when he mailed it back to me,” I said with a wry smile.
My brother finally cracked a grin. “Feel free to toss any money you please at the pub. We need to replace the booths. Can’t have cracks in the seats if your sainted arse is going to grace them now.”
“I need to get to work,” I said. “If you’re quite finished.”
He sighed. “Even a night spent shagging doesn’t relax you, brother.”
“It wasn’t a night spent shagging,” I muttered. “We just … fell asleep afterward.”
Lewis hooted with glee. “Imagine the paps running with that headline.
Shepperton footballer gets a good night of beauty sleep.” He shook his head.
I shoved at him. “That’s not all I did, you prat.”
Making my brother laugh was a small moment when I had to recognize why I’d stopped at The Red Lion the night before. Why I’d fallen so easily into bed with Lia. Everything in my life that was wrapped up in my job wasn’t simple anymore. Not after a decade of being exactly that.
The nature of my relationship with my parents—that was to say, fairly nonexistent—meant I couldn’t show up at the farm where Lewis and I had been raised and offer to help them with something like my brother had done the night before.
But I could stop and see my little brother to share a beer and a laugh.
And in his absence, Lia had offered me a delectable alternative, something to reignite that burn behind my chest, the one that used to fuel me on the pitch.
Lewis held the door open for me. “Hungry? I could see if Maggie’d make some eggs.”
“I’m starved. Breakfast would be smart before I go in to talk to Conworth.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Ugly match on Saturday.”
“Yeah.” One-nil against Crystal Palace in a complete and utter slogfest. That was partially why I was sore today, not simply from Lia with the big blue eyes.
Lewis grunted. “Need to do better than that. They’re gonna bench your arse for the new French kid. He’s bloody fast, isn’t he?”
My smile was tight. “I’m aware, Lewis. But thank you for the reminder.”
My mobile buzzed, and a text from my manager flashed across the screen, followed by a few I’d missed the evening before.
Conworth: Before you work out, meet me in my office for a chat. You need to do better this weekend.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.