Page 5 of Arrogant Rucking Player

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Of all nights for him to come in—I’d have to tell him we were short if he asked and then he’d?—

What, blame me? Yes, absolutely. But more than that, he’d sack someone, because Stuart Jennings was an asshole. It’s why I left him in the first place, and why Brady called him by his first name rather than Dad.

Kids had a way of working that sort of thing out on their own, funnily enough.

“I own the place, or did you forget?” He breezed past me as I closed the till and locked it, pocketing the key. Nothing else was going missing, though the only people left in the restaurant were myself, Brady, Chaz in the back singing opera at the top of his lungs and now Stuart who fixed himself a drink in the bar.

“That’s all cleaned up,” I protested. “Josie and Kesh finished up an hour ago. Don’t screw with their system, Stu–”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Nyla. No one does.” Stuart poured himself a large glass of top shelf whiskey without marking the bottle or writing the freebie in the staff book, and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll be up here until you leave. Then it’s my night with Brady, or did you forget?”

Double fuckity.I had forgotten.

“I don’t have a bag packed,” I hedged. “It got crazy for a Thursday night, and we were short two staff.”

“Your ineptitude is not my problem. Let me know when he’s ready to leave.”

I watched Stuart walk up the stairs with a drink that couldn’t possibly allow him to drive, my protests dying in my throat.

I hate this life. What the hell do I have to do to leave it?

Tears welled in my eyes as I plunked myself on my seat that till and unlocked the cash drawer, counting out the cash again.

And again.

Then I did the EFTPOS. At least that came up correct.

And then the tears began to fall.

A steaming, reheated, if slightly mangled brownie pushed in front of me.

“Chaz said to give you this before I go,” Brady said in a small voice. “You forgot, huh?”

I nodded and held out an arm, not trusting myself to speak as I hugged him. “Gonna miss you, bud,” I kissed the top of his head, realizing I used Mason’s terms that I’d been listening to for the past week. “I’ll pick you up after coaching, okay?”

“Okay, Mum. Love you.” Brady kissed me all chocolatey.

I made a quick calculation in my head. “Do you think you could handle a phone soon? You’re getting pretty responsible.”

And then you can call me directly if you need me to come and get you.Panic closed around my heart at the thought of not having him for another day, or anywhere near Stuart.

“Sure, Mum. That would be great.” Brady perked up. “One of the guys at school has this game. It’s made of maths. You can send a guy sailing off cliffs when you dissolve things. It’s really fun.” He peeked up at me.

“Sounds awesome,” I managed, sending Stuart a message.

NYLA: Brady’s ready to go.

I waited for a response but I didn’t get one. Just footsteps on the stairs a few minutes later. Stuart didn’t even acknowledge me as he ruffled Brady’s hair. My son stiffened slightly but slipped out of my grip all the same.

“Love you, Mum. See you tomorrow afternoon!” he called.

“Love you,” I whispered to the swinging broken doors that encapsulated my life at that moment. The only thing that could fill the gap right now would be if one of them fell off.

I cooped up a mouthful of brownie as Chaz joined me at the counter, wrapping me in a big, end of night, chef-smelly bear hug. I didn’t even care. It was human contact. And right now, I needed that more than anything else before I went back to my empty townhouse.

Alone.

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