Page 62 of Worth the Wait
Alfie snorted, looked away. “Yeah. That’s what got me into isolation, too. Anaccident.”
Nathan clenched his jaw. “I lashed out when I shouldn’t have. I know that. I own it. I try to do better. You should too.”
“What’s this? Do as I say, not as I do?”
“No. This is me telling you I’m not perfect. That I make mistakes, too. That I’m trying to own them instead of hiding from them. I’m not my old man. I don’t think I’m faultless. I don’t expectyouto be. But if we’ve got any shot at this—” he gestured between them, rough and frustrated, “—you need to learn the same thing. Own it. Face it. Move forward.”
Alfie shoved his burger into his mouth.
The door to McDonald’s swung open, blasting in a cold air, cutting through the greasy heat, and a group of teens came in. Hoods up, trainers scuffing across the floor. Nathan caught the way Alfie stiffened. How his head snapped up. The way the newcomers looked over at Alfie,and Alfie eyeballed them right back, chin tilting in that don’t-fuck-with-me way Nathan recognised all too well.
“You know them?” Nathan angled his head towards the group, now huddled around the order screens, laughing too loud, jostling each other.
“No.”
His phone buzzed on the table again. Alfie flipped it over, glancing at the screen long enough for Nathan to catch it. New message, another one waiting. Emojis. No words. Symbols. A language Nathan wasn’t fluent in.
Alfie turned the phone facedown without replying, stabbing a fry into the congealing ketchup.
Nathan pushed his tray aside, the burger untouched, growing cold. He sat back. Looked his son dead on. “You want to know why I brought you here?”
Alfie leant back, that stubborn set to his jaw Nathan recognised all too well. But when he finally spoke, he dripped with teenage bravado.
“Cause you think this place is safe. You reckon dragging me away from East London’ll fix everything. Cause Mum was on her last legs and last fix, and you needed to play hero for once.”
Nathan flinched as if slapped but kept his face blank.
Alfie cocked his head. “And because you’ve got all thoseprecious memoriesof skipping hand-in-hand down the seafront with that copper you got a hard on for.”
Nathan blinked.
The only tell.
“I have good memories of Worthbridge,” he said evenly. “Memories I want you to have, too.”
Alfie grimaced, pushing his chair back an inch, brimming with disdain. “No, ta.”
Nathan snapped.
He slapped his palm flat on the table, hard enough for the condiment sachets to fall off, bounce Alfie’s phone into the air, and force every eye in McDonald’s swivelling towards them.
Alfie flinched.
Nathan hated himself instantly.
He dragged his hand back, curling it into a fist, holding onto it before he did something worse.
“You don’t impress me, Alf,” Nathan said, low and controlled. “This big man, ‘I don’t give a shit’ act? Doesn’t work. Not on me.” He leant in closer. “You think I wasn’t you once? Think I haven’t seen a hundred lads like you bounce off the wagon, all teeth and bravado, acting untouchable, until the first real hit lands and they fold? You forget who I am, son. Forget where I’ve been.”
Alfie dropped back in his seat, sneering as if he wanted to spit the words before he even said them. “Ain’t got a clue where you’ve been,” he snapped. “’Cause you sure as fuck weren’t with me. Not enough to call yourself a dad.”
Nathan flinched. A small, involuntary movement. A gut-punch he probably deserved. But he didn’t back down.
“You’re right.” Nathan dragged each word out through the pain. “So let’s cut the shit. You can’t possibly know what I’ve seen. And I’ll never fully know what you’ve been through, either. But this—” he gestured between them, “—this is the line in the sand. We wipe the slate clean. Stop punishing each other for where we weren’t. Move forward. And respect each other’s boundaries. Make the best of the second chance we’ve got.”
He sat back, breathing hard, feeling the whole ugly truth of it settle heavy between them. The silence that followed was brittle. Tense. But at least it wasn’t a slammed door.
Not yet.
