Page 95 of The Longshot

“Excuse me?” She places both hands on her hips, visibly unamused by his choice of words—yet again. “I’m her Mum!”

“And I’m the one that made a bollocking of everything!” he counters. “Now, let me go!”

Without skipping a beat, the two begin arguing simultaneously, so much so that I can hardly understand a single word coming from their mouths.

This is ridiculous—this fighting is doing nothing. Nothing while she is out there, hurting, alone.

I have to put an end to this.

“Oi!” My captain's voice comes out of nowhere, silencing the two of them in an instant as they jolt back in surprise. “Like I said…” I clear my throat, making way to step in front of the door and clutch the handle. “I’m going to be the one that talks to her. Alright?”

Frantically, they look back at one another, weighing up my remark, though it’s Sarah who’s the first to jump back in. “I’m sorry, Gary, but I really think that we should be the ones to?—”

“Go,” Mark interjects, gesturing with a tilt of his chin for me to go through the door.

“Mark!” Sarah hisses.

“He’s right. He should be the one to talk to her. Not us. Chelsie has probably had enough of us for the night. So let him, Sarah.” He looks down at her for a sense of reassurance. “Please.”

It feels like it takes forever, but after a moment, receptive to the plan, Sarah nods, settling on Mark’s simple word of “go”.

I’m quick to rush out of the house with the syllable, and without a jacket, the brisk outdoor air sends shivers down my spine.

“Shit.” I rub along my arms in an attempt to warm myself up, yet it does absolutely nothing to appease me. Instead, I pick up my pace, weaving through the largest garden known to man—known to England. Mark wasn’t joking when he said that this was the epitome of Windsor Castle in Hull. It is.

The Windsor family property is astonishingly large. It’s hard to believe that Chelsie grew up here. That this was the place she called home. There’s nothing humble about this place, but everything about her is.

I use the moonlight that beams down from above to help guide me through the grass and toward a quiet hill. I don’t blame Chelsie for running off. A part of me wanted to as well, though I never would’ve. I made a promise to be there for her no matter what. And so even if her mum and dad wanted to spend the whole night belittling me, I would’ve let them because it wasn't them that I showed up for, it was her.

It’ll always be her.

The girl that now comes into view, sitting beside a quaint pond with her knees brought up towards her chest while her head rests on top.

“Chelsie!” I shout, picking up my pace, this distance between us slowly killing me by the second.

“Gary?” She turns over her shoulder, surprise ridden all over her face. “I uh… was just about to come back.” She attempts to stand, wiping away her tears with the backside of her palm in the process. “I swear I was coming. I was?—”

“No, you weren’t.” I see right through her little white lie as I plop myself beside her, bringing her back down with me in the process. “But that’s okay, baby girl.” I help to wipe away a few stray tears. “No one expected you to come back.”

There’s a sense of calm between us as she exhales and stares up at the night sky. I’ve never seen her in this light before. I’ve never seen her cry like this before. Everything in this moment feels new—different.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone in there,” her voice is quiet and full of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Gary. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey.” I tilt her chin in my direction, drawing her in close. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t need to apologize. Had you not run off, I wouldn’t have just gotten a front-row seat to both of your parents panicking like headless chickens.”

She sniffles, though a faint smile aches to break free from her lips. “Headless chickens?”

“Precisely. Would you like me to demonstrate?” I ask. “Oh my gosh. We upset Chelsie. We need to apologize. What did you do!?” I’m left obnoxiously mocking her parents before she can even agree in an attempt to force a laugh out of her.

It does.

God. I want to hear that every hour, every day, forever.

“Would you like me to continue?” I laugh along with her, brushing away her tears one by one.

She shakes her head once more before resting them back onto her knees. “Why are you always such a goof, Gary Wilkinson?” she asks with wide eyes.

I reach for her face. “Because being a goof makes you smile… and your smile, I’d do anything, be anything for, baby girl.”

---