Page 76 of Worth the Wait
Alfie huffed and yanked it free. Nathan held out a hand, palm up. “I’ll iron it.”
Alfie blinked at him. “You know how to iron?”
Nathan smirked, the first ghost of genuine feeling breaking through the tension. “The army ain’t all rifles and crawling through mud, mate. You turn up looking like a sack of spanners, the sergeant major’ll beat you ‘til you shine.”
Alfie snorted. A real, reluctant snort, then handed over the blazer.
Nathan turned towards the ironing board, blazer draped over his arm, and for the first time in what felt like hours, the knot in his gut loosened.
After making sure Alfie looked half-respectable, tie straight, blazer ironed into obedience, Nathan ushered him out the door, calling over his shoulder towards the bathroom. “Taking Alfie to school, Dad. I’ll be late to the garage.”
A toilet flushed. A grunt followed. Ron’s version of consent. So Nathan grabbed the car keys and bundled Alfie into the battered Fiesta.
The town was shaking itself awake as they drove. Streets still slick from the morning mist, shop shutters half-rolled up, the scent of wet tarmac and fried bacon clinging to the air. A bin lorry rumbled past them, workers heaving bags into the back with dull thuds. A flock of gulls screamed overhead, wheeling low between the crooked rooftops.
Worthbridge looked harmless enough on mornings like this. Almost pretty, if you squinted.
But Nathan knew better now.
The closer they got to the school, the more the illusion fell apart.
Buses hissed at the kerb. Kids spilled out in noisy clusters, rucksacks dragging low, voices high-pitched and cruel. Packs formed around the gates. Some laughing too loud, others skulking in hoodies with narrowed eyes and silent assessments, clocking every arrival. Territory. Rank. Weakness.
Nathan scanned them all with a soldier’s gaze. They weren’t innocent teenagers. Not anymore. Not to him. They were risks. Influences. The very hands that could drag Alfie straight back into the shit he’d pulled him out of hours ago.
He could only hope the ones involved in last night’s raid weren’t there. That they’d been arrested. Or scared off. But he knew how this worked. There was a good chance someone had clocked Alfie missing when the heat came down. And if they were smart, they’d already started asking questions.
Nathan pulled up to the kerb and shifted the car into neutral. Alfie went to open the door, but Nathan stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Is there anyone in there,”—he nodded towards the school gates—“who was with you last night?”
Alfie didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him either.
“Alf.” Nathan widened his eyes. “I’m not asking so I can drag anyone out by the collar. I’m asking cause I need to know you’re safe walking through those gates.”
Alfie shook his head. “No one.”
Nathan didn’t buy it, not fully. “Then where do you know them from?”
“The skate park mostly. Sometimes town.”
Nathan scanned the clusters of teens already forming. “So inside there, you’re good?”
Alfie gave a half-shrug. “I ain’t scared of them.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should be.”
Alfie scoffed. “A bunch of beach rats? Surfer dudes? You know where I grew up, yeah? I weren’t scared of no one round there neither.”
“One day, that big man act’s gonna land you in a place you can’t walk out of. Keep your head down.”
Alfie tutted under his breath and pushed the door open. He climbed out, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Nathan leant out the window. “If anyone asks, you ran.”
