My pulse spikes. “Get back inside, Immy.”
“Do I need to call the police?”
Brad raises a calming hand without turning. “It’s handled. Just take the girls out back.”
Gary’s eyes track Imogen, a smirk curling. “That your missus, aye? Pregnant, too. Fuck, you never said you were gonna be a father.”
“Keep your fucking eyes off her, or I’ll put you in the ground.”
Gary’s grin widens. “Pretty little thing. Shame she’s stuck with a wreck like you.” Something snaps. The urge to lunge is electric.“One more word, and you’ll regret it.” Brad’s hand lands firm on my shoulder.
“Yer think you’re better than me now, huh? You were always a waste of space. Think you can raise a kid?”
Bradley steps forward. “Leave. Now.” Tyres screech, and we all turn our heads to spot Joe’s car. He and Mum are out before the engine cools.
“You got a lot of nerve showing your face, Walters.”
“Nice to see you, too, Price. Keeping her warm for me, huh?”
Mum’s face hardens. “You’re disgusting, Gary. Haven’t you done enough?”
Gary’s laugh cuts through, bitter. “Oh, please. Bottles, lines—that’s all you’ve ever been good at. No wonder these kids are screw-ups.”
“Shut the fuck up, Gary,” I grit behind clenched teeth.
“What? No ‘Dad’? Yer used to call me that.” His eyes flick to Imogen. “Wonder how long the blondie’ll stick around once she sees the real you.”
I lean toward Brad, voice low. “If he keeps talking, he’s getting hurt.”
Gary’s grin is so fucking smug, I want to bash his fucking head in. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it? You can’t outrun it, mate. Still just a—”
“Don’t listen to him, Harrison,” Mum’s voice cuts in.
Brad pulls out his phone, staring Gary down. “You’ve got five seconds to leave before police are swarming to arrest you for trespassing.” Gary falters, eyes darting.
“Five.”
He takes one step backward.
“Four.”
A stumble toward his car. Mumbling.
“Three.”
He’s in the car, tires screeching as he peels out, taillights fading into the dark.
“Call them, anyway,” I grunt. “He shouldn’t be on the fucking road.”
Brad nods. “One step ahead of you, champ.”
Thank fuck for that. But the air doesn’t clear. Not even close. Anger still coils tight in my chest, simmering low, ready to explode.
31
Just Us - James Arthur
The girls are crowded around me as soon as I step back into the house, faces taut with worry.