Trust (London Love #5)

“You kissed me, Reubs.”

Technicalities. But. Yes. I had.

But he was…my Gray.

He pulled me up onto my feet, and then we went back to the kitchen, and he ate all my dinner like a good boy. By the time my dad got home, he was asleep in my arms on the sofa and I was watching the football. Dad sat down next to us, and this…

This was home. How could I move out? Dad would be lonely, and then he’d do bad things and get himself into trouble, and I liked having him around. I suppose that was one of the most adult things about me. I really appreciated my dad now, and he appreciated me. And we were good. Like this.

“There were kids outside the house earlier. Looking for him.”

“Why?” Stupid question. It didn’t take a genius to recognise my dad’s car and know where it was usually parked. London was big, but Peckham was a tiny soup bowl of human beings who sometimes didn’t know what was good for them. We had nice roads. New and upcoming areas where young people were renovating old houses and hip new cafés and bars were filling up those boarded-up old shop units. But there were also places like this. Run-down estates full of bored kids who had nothing better to do than stalk some guy who looked a little bit like The Dieter.

The Dieter. Fuck him.

I looked down at the man snoring gently against my chest, which made my dad snort.

“You’re absolutely not into him, are you, Son?”

Sarcasm. My dad was a dick.

“Nope.” I grinned.

“I can tell from the way you smile when you look at him. It’s nice. Roll with it.”

“Dad,” I warned.

“And move in with him. It might go completely tits up, and in three weeks, you’ll have fallen out and you’ll be back here stomping around in a rage.”

“You give us three weeks?”

“No.” Dad smiled. “I think you’ll be really happy. And not only that. It gets you out of this place. Fresh start. You can walk around without looking over your shoulder thinking that kid from the past will turn up and stab you in the guts. I know. It was years ago, but you never really got over it.”

“He didn’t actually stab me, Dad.”

“No, but he had a knife to your side, and you had nightmares for weeks. Over what? A couple of bags of weed?”

“And then he turned up here.”

“He was just a child. I told him to run back to his mother. Grow up. Get a life.”

“He didn’t like that.”

“It’s true, though. Things like that can affect you for the rest of your life. You need to move on. Leave this place behind and carve out a future that will make you happy. Live in a nice house. Have someone hold you at night. A couple of kids.”

“Dad, I’m not having kids with Gray.”

He just laughed.

“Dad!” I shouted.

Gray sat up, muttered something about going to bed and left.

“You will,” Dad said with a wink. Then he got up, switched the TV off and left me on the sofa, feet on the coffee table.

On my own.

I could hear Gray in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, Dad’s shower running.