Page 7 of Try Hard

Eve

S oph’s bike was already parked at Mum’s when I arrived after spending the afternoon with Dad—and without the whole crew of the morning. The absence of some of them was more disappointing than others.

I parked the car in the only available spot out front and climbed out of it—that blue Hyundai that had momentarily puzzled Fia—and grabbed my phone.

She still hadn’t messaged. She’d promised that she would and I believed Ophelia Pendrick to be a woman of her word, but I was a little… impatient, I suppose.

I hadn’t wanted to ask for hers in the moment, just in case she didn’t want further contact. Give her my number, put the ball in her court, and let her choose how she wanted the relationship to progress. I stood by that decision. But I was also itching for her to message me.

I headed for the door, registering the white car sandwiched between Soph’s bike and my mum’s Clio. Terrence must be here too. Full house.

I let myself in and was immediately accosted by seventy pounds of Old English Sheepdog.

“Get down, Hercules!” my mum called from the kitchen down the hall. “The poor girl only just walked through the door.”

I laughed, dropping down onto the floor to pet him and, well, roll around with him.

I heard my mum coming down the hall towards us, but I was too busy lavishing Hercules with all of the attention he was pretending he never got from the other three people in the house.

That fuzzy boy was a sucker for attention.

And he deserved it too. We had no idea what the first three years of his life had been like, but, since my mum had fallen in love with him, he’d spent every day of his life being showered with attention like the king he clearly was.

“You’re just as bad as he is,” Mum laughed, standing over us both.

I hugged him tightly, sitting up. “We missed each other.”

“Oh, and you didn’t miss the rest of us?” Soph called, appearing at the top of the stairs.

Mum had moved into this little cottage after the divorce, but there was something about the narrow, steep staircase, with Sophie standing at the top, that just felt like home, like our life had always been. It felt like the home we’d grown up in. It was nice.

I shot her a look. “ You didn’t race to the door to see me. Sorry, my love is reserved for those who provide me with the same energy.”

She waved her hands wildly. “I’m here right now!”

“Herc beat you to it.”

“When are you leaving?” she asked, voice purposely cutting.

Mum tutted at the two of us. “Play nice. You’re not children anymore.”

Soph gasped dramatically, pausing as she came down the stairs. “We’re not? Why did nobody tell me?”

I laughed as I pulled my mum into a hug. It was nice to be back. “I think you’re supposed to figure that out for yourself when they kick you out into the big, wide world and tell you to get a job.”

Soph made it to the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her own hug. “Oh, right. And I just took up drawing on people, so it doesn’t really feel like a job.”

Mum shot her a look, heading back towards the kitchen. “Sophie, please don’t tell me that’s how you describe your job to people?”

“It’s not,” she replied easily. “But maybe it should be. It is technically true, and that’s my favourite kind of true.”

We followed Mum into the kitchen, Hercules trotting along at our heels, and found Terrence standing at the stove, laughing.

“What?” Soph asked him, hoisting herself up onto one of the countertops.

“You sound like some of my lawyer friends,” he said, shooting her an anticipatory look. He knew how much she’d hate that comparison.

“Ick. Proper, real, adult jobs? No thanks.”

I sat on the floor again, allowing Hercules to clamber awkwardly into my lap, technically too big for it. “Yeah, imagine Soph in a suit, having meetings, working regular hours…”

“I have meetings,” she shot back with a scowl.

I laughed. “Somehow, I imagine yours are a little more lighthearted than the ones lawyers routinely have.”

“Not my fault they picked a boring job.” She nodded in my direction. “Even you’re going that way.”

“I’m an interior designer,” I said, deadpan. “It’s hardly life or death.”

“Don’t tell your clients that,” Terrence quipped, and I laughed, looking up at him.

From down on the floor he looked even taller than usual, and the man already felt a little too tall for the low ceilings and exposed beams of my mum’s cottage.

I was tempted to ask him how many times he’d smacked his head on them.

“Indeed,” Soph agreed. “If they don’t get just the right shade of terracotta flooring, they might perish.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “Laugh it up.”

My mum shot me a look. “At least her job isn’t life or death for her anymore.”

Soph scowled again, dropping her head in defeat, while Terrance simply wrapped his free arm around my mum’s shoulders, still stirring whatever was in the large, cast iron pot before him.

My mum had always been proud, but she’d also worried. Concussions were common in rugby, and she knew the dangers of them. That, along with the risk of other injuries, had made her more than a little relieved when I’d finally hung up my professional rugby boots.

“So,” Terrance said, cheerfully changing the subject, “how was plane spotting?”

I grinned up at him. “Honestly? Great. I mean, cold and I was a little unprepared for how chilly you get just standing out there for hours, but the group was fantastic, Dad’s clearly having a great time with it, and, yeah, really fun.”

“That’s lovely,” Mum said sincerely. “I’m so glad things are working out for Jeremy.”

Terrance gave her the warmest smile and I was hit with that same feeling as earlier, when Alistair spoke about his wife.

My parents hadn’t been right for each other in the end, but they were doing really well in divorce.

They weren’t best friends, but neither of them struggled to talk about the other, they still cared and wanted great things for the other.

It was healthy—healthier than those final few years had been—and it just…

fit. While Terrance saw my mum the way she’d always wished Dad could, he understood and supported her feelings around Dad.

No romantic love left, no wishing they were still together, but a deep, familial care for the man who’d once built a life with her and fathered her children. Love was a many-faceted thing.

“And,” Terrance said, looking at me and Hercules, “I figured you’d be chilly, so we’re having ital stew. That should warm you right up.”

I smiled delightedly at him. “You’re the best.”

Ital stew had been something Terrance’s grandmother used to make for him, and it was one of the first dishes he’d made for us, given that my mum had told him all about me being a vegetarian.

He’d since adapted a bunch of Jamaican dishes to my diet, but ital stew still held a special place in my heart.

I pulled out my phone, checking it again, and fully deserving it when Hercules whacked me with his paw after I stopped stroking him with both hands.

Still no message from Fia. But, I pushed the phone back into my pocket and lavished all of my attention on the shaggy monster in my lap.

I could feel Soph watching me, but I hadn’t expected her to catapult herself off the counter to stand in front of me, holding out a hand.

I looked up at her, remembering Fia’s adorable low five when I’d held my hand out in a similar way. “Yes?”

“Can you help me look for my Jimmy Eat World CD? I can’t find it.”

I blinked before easing Hercules off my lap and taking her hand. “Sure.” I shook my head. “Back on CDs, then, are we?”

She rolled her eyes and led the way back towards the stairs, not bothering to answer.

In fact, she didn’t speak until we were in the guest room and she’d closed the door.

I gestured towards the wardrobe where Mum kept all our old things, aware there was a part of me that wanted to call it a closet. The thought made me smile. Another Americanism sneaking in that I had no doubt Fia would have picked up on. “Are we taking a box each and just going until we find it?”

Soph wafted a hand, shaking me off. “Don’t worry about that. I have the CD at my place.”

I frowned. “Okay. So… why are we here?”

“Who was the message from?”

“What message?” I watched her with wide eyes.

She made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. “The one you just got.”

“I didn’t get a message.”

She paused for a second. “What? Let me see your phone.”

“Definitely not,” I laughed.

“So you did get a message. I knew it.”

I honestly didn’t know what had gotten into her. “I didn’t get anything.”

She pursed her lips and scrubbed her chin with one hand, the large butterfly on her skin moving as her hand flexed. “Why doesn’t it seem like you’re lying?”

“Because I’m not?”

“Pfft. Boring. But, if you didn’t get a text, what was with the expression when you looked at your phone?”

“What expression?” I hadn’t realised I’d done anything with my face, let alone that I needed to be working harder on keeping a neutral expression lest Soph come after me with unfounded allegations.

“I don’t know, something… fuzzy.”

“Ooh, your favourite. Fuzzy feelings.”

“I’m not a bear. I don’t need fuzzy.”

“But I do?”

She shrugged. “Seems like it. You looked so excited, I was sure there was gossip to be had.”

Juicy gossip, too, if the fact that she’d pulled me away from Mum and Terrance to discuss it was anything to go by.

And maybe I did have juicy gossip. Kind of. I didn’t want to think of Fia as gossip, but she was the reason behind the expression Soph had witnessed. Whether she knew exactly what it was or not, that was the information she was looking for. I knew that. And she knew something was up.

I hopped onto the bed—mine for the next few weeks. “It’s not gossip. ”