Page 9 of Worth the Wait (Worth It #1)

Still, he scanned the street as he passed, breath misting in the cold.

Couldn’t be sure it had been him. Not really.

But years in the military had taught him to trust his instincts.

To feel when someone was watching. And Nathan had felt it.

Felt him . And even if the car was gone, there was no mistaking the feeling that had crept down his spine earlier that night.

Or the familiar scent ghosting on the air when he’d stepped out onto the drive.

He’d know Freddie Webb anywhere.

Even after all this time.

He jogged the long route, cutting down past the war memorial and along the seafront, where the wind slapped harder, and the salt stung his lungs in all the right ways.

He looped around the crumbling pier for a five-k, maybe a bit more, and ended up outside Oh My Cod!

the only fish and chip shop in Worthbridge stubborn enough to stay open on a Sunday.

Most places shut their fryers down after Saturday night.

Part tradition, part survival. But Oh My Cod!

kept going, same as always. Grease-stained windows, neon ‘OPEN’ sign illuminated above the door, and a bell ringing with defiance every time someone walked in.

Nathan queued behind a couple of teenagers and a woman in scrubs, sweat cooling on his back, the scent of hot oil and vinegar already making his mouth water. It was one of the few places in town that hadn’t changed. And for tonight, that felt like something close to comfort.

“Two cod, sausage in batter, large chips, please, love.” Nathan leaned forward, peering through the fogged-up glass, eyeing the crispiest fillet.

“Nathan bloody Carter.”

He looked up. “Mandy.” He surprised himself with how quickly the name came back to him. Yeah, he clocked the peeling Oh My Cod! apron with Mandy Fry Queen badge plastered on her, but that wasn’t why he remembered the woman. Or girl, as it was back then.

“You crawling back to town just to see me?”

Last he’d seen her was behind the youth club bins. Lip gloss, cherry flavour. Breath hot on his cheek. A win on the pitch, a kiss with something to prove, then five minutes later she was off with that striker from St. John’s. Better hair. Better stats.

What had hit harder was the bit after, though.

Freddie. On the kerb. Knees tucked in, pretending he hadn’t seen. Waiting.

Nathan swallowed, the air thick with fryer grease. He hadn’t understood it then. Didn’t have the words. Just a feeling. Guilt, mostly. And Freddie’s face…not angry, just… quiet.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in Worthbridge.” Mandy fished out a golden slab of cod and dropped the fish onto paper. “Heard you went into the army.”

“Yeah.”

“You on leave, then?”

“Left. Indefinitely.”

Mandy wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Sorry. Tanya—you remember Tanya Keane?”

He didn’t, but he nodded anyway.

“Her husband’s out in Estonia, part of that NATO forward presence thing. Says they’ve been sending lads in and out of Ukraine to train the locals. Were you there? Left cause of injury?”

Nathan didn’t flinch, but he felt it. Right in the leg, where the cold always settled into the scar first. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not here. Not with someone who once dumped him for a boy who scored more than him. On and off the pitch.

“Not exactly.”

Mandy picked up on the tone and changed gears. She grabbed the scoop and tipped a mound of chips beside the fish. “Salt and vinegar?”

“Yeah. Both. Cheers.”

She doused the lot, then wrapped the paper up with the speed and precision of someone who’d done it a thousand times. “So where you living now?”

“Back at my old man’s for a bit. Working in his garage. Trying to sort something more permanent for me and the boy now he’s going to Worthbridge Academy.”

“Oh, yeah! Forgot you had a kid. What’s his name?”

“Alfie.”

“God, he must be… thirteen? ”

“Fourteen.”

“Fuck. We’re ancient.” She laughed, brushing her hands on her apron. “I’ve got two girls. Five and seven. Can’t even think about them being teenagers yet. Still remember what I was like.”

Nathan arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, so do I.”

Mandy grinned, then cocked her head. “You still in touch with Freddie?”

The name hit like a knock to the chest.

“Uh… not so much.”

“You two were glued together back in the day.” She shook her head with a smile. “He’s a copper now, you know?”

“So I’ve heard.”

She handed over the paper-wrapped food with a little flourish. “You filled out. The muscles suit you. Makes me wish I hadn’t dumped you for Lenny bloody Cook.”

Nathan chuckled, took the bag, and offered her a nod. “Can’t win ’em all.”

But as he stepped out into the cold again, fish supper in hand, his heart was already miles away.

Sitting on that kerb with Freddie.

When Nathan got back to the house, his dad was slouched in his usual spot. Remote in one hand, another can in the other, as if the evening hadn’t moved on since Nathan had left. No sign of Alfie. No surprise there.

Nathan plated up a portion of cod and chips, left it on the coffee table next to Ron’s elbow, then headed upstairs with the rest. Alfie’s door was still shut, the same dull music leaking through the crack. Nathan knocked once. No answer.

So he let himself in .

The kid hadn’t moved. Still sprawled in his hoodie and baggy joggers, limbs everywhere, phone glowing on his chest, earbuds in. Nathan nudged his foot.

“Scoot up.”

Alfie gave a long, theatrical huff but grudgingly shifted, dragging himself upright to lean against the wall. Nathan perched on the edge of the fold-out bed and unwrapped the bundle on his lap. Chips, cod, and the battered sausage balanced on top. “Help yourself.”

Alfie held out longer than expected. Then, with a grunt, he snatched the sausage and bit into it. Nathan considered that a win.

He picked at a few chips himself, then asked, “You wanna tell me what happened today?”

“You were there,” Alfie said through a mouthful. “Told the filth everything.”

Nathan stiffened. “Don’t call the police that.”

“Why not?”

Because you don’t get to reduce Freddie to that.

But he couldn’t say that. So he chose something else.

“It’s about respect. You show it, and nine times out of ten, they’ll give it back.”

“Didn’t feel like that when they cuffed me.”

Alfie wiped his greasy fingers on his joggers, then helped himself to a handful of chips from Nathan’s lap. No shame, no thanks. Hunger and attitude in equal measure.

“You assaulted someone. Again. You’re lucky they let you walk out without a charge. What the hell were you even doing there?”

“Told you. Wanted to go skate. You were too busy arguing with Grandad, so I left.”

“It wasn’t an argument.”

It was .

Ron wanted answers. A plan. To know why Nathan had given up a military career and dragged a teenage boy across counties instead of leaving him with his mum. He wanted to know why Nathan had walked away from the one thing that had given his life structure and pride.

The irony was almost poetic.

Nathan had left it all behind for Alfie .

To pull him out of the rough estate where the shouting never stopped, and the walls were too thin.

To get him away from Katie , who was more interested in keeping a rotation of men in her bed than checking her son’s school report.

Nathan had stepped in when he’d learned how bad it had got from his routine visits.

And Alfie was angry at him for it trying to give him a better life than the one he was destined for.

He glanced at the boy beside him, chewing moodily through the chips and his heart twisted.

“I want you to stay away from there,” Nathan said firmly, lifting a hand before Alfie could cut in. “Just for a while. Let things settle.”

“So I can’t skate?”

“Find somewhere else.”

“There ain’t nowhere else,” Alfie snapped. “It’s a skate park. That’s literally what it’s for.”

“Just for a while.”

Alfie huffed, threw a chip back onto the pile, then turned to stare out the open window. The night breeze stirred his fringe, but he didn’t speak.

“You’ll be choosing your options soon. Going into year ten. Shit gets serious then.” Nathan tried to get back in his line of sight. “You’re already behind, which I know ain’t all your fault. But this is your chance to actually get somewhere. That art you do—”

“It’s called graffiti, Dad.” Alfie tutted. “The filth won’t like it. ”

“I said don’t call him that!” The words came out too brusque, too fast, the snap in his voice louder than he’d meant.

Alfie flinched.

And Nathan felt it crack down his spine like a whip. He exhaled, running a hand over his face, ashamed of the flash of temper.

It was Freddie.

Still lingering. Still tangled in his chest, in his voice, in every half-formed thought. Making him feel things he didn’t have the space or language for. Making him speak like someone else entirely. His old man . Ron had always had a voice in his head, too. A louder one.

“You’ve got a real shot, Alf. Don’t waste it getting in fights or tagged as trouble before you’ve even started.”

Alfie didn’t answer. He fixed his gaze on the dark beyond the window, as if the streetlights out there held promises Nathan could never quite live up to.

Nathan watched him for a moment, then gathered up the remains of their meal.

He folded the greasy paper in on itself and gave it a final, crumpling twist in his hands.

“You need anything?”

Alfie said nothing.

“You know where I am.”

He left it at that.

Downstairs, the telly blared out some dated police drama into the living room. His dad sat hunched in his armchair, half-eaten fish supper balanced on a plate across his knees.

“Needs a bit of discipline, that one.” Ron didn’t even look away from the screen.

“What he needs is someone who believes in him.”

Ron took a sip of his can. “Needs to earn that. ”

Nathan didn’t answer. He stomped through to the kitchen, dumped the cold bundle of uneaten chips into the bin, then stood there, gripping the edge of the counter. Breathing. Swallowing whatever response was building at the back of his throat.

Nathan turned and headed back through the lounge. “I’m calling it a night. I’ll run Alfie to school in the morning, then come give you a hand in the garage.”

Ron gave a grunt of approval. “’Bout time we got some use out of you. Long as you’re better than that wet-behind-the-ears mechanic I had last week. Straight out of college, couldn’t take a bollocking when he cocked up a carburettor. Walked out mid-shift.”

“I’ll try not to cry if you shout at me.” Nathan gave a dry smile. Cause he’d been trying that for years. “Least I’ll be cheaper.”

That earned him the ghost of a smirk.

Without another word, he climbed the stairs, the house creaking around him with every step. He paused outside Alfie’s door but heard nothing beyond the wood, so turned and slipped into his own room.

The air inside was heavy with memories and the quiet thrum of his own thoughts. Same peeling posters, same ceiling he’d stared at countless nights trying to imagine a life beyond these walls.

Now he was back.

And he didn’t know if he was here to rebuild something or bury it for good.