* * *
During the show,I can’t keep my eyes from slipping to Leonard and Ellie, just like they always do when the two of them come to watch. It fascinates me how patient Leonard is with his niece. She keeps whispering things into his ear, and he continues to nod and whisper something back to her. If this was anyone else, it would warm my heart. When it comes to Leonard, it has a different effect. A weird one. I like seeing this side of him, but liking it immediately sends a wave of ice through me, trying to freeze any positive feelings I could ever hold for this man.
After the show, Ellie gives me one last hug. She tells me how pretty I look with my hair out of its usual French braids. It’s long, reaching the top of my ass in wavy brown strands. I even added a little makeup today to highlight my bright green eyes. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much effort I put into my appearance today. I’m wearing my nicest pair of sneakers, which doesn’t mean much since I’m broke, and even added my finest jewelry. It may turn my skin green if I wear it for too long, but I like the rose-gold color of the necklace, earrings, and rings. I don’t know what made me decide to pay extra attention to my outfit today, but it was most certainly not because I had a feeling I’d see Leonard. That’d be absurd.
“Try not to set any retirement homes on fire when you walk past them on your way home, little demon,” Leonard says, and I let out a humorless snort. My eyes swiftly skip to Ellie, but she’s looking around the room, not paying attention to us.
“Ellie seems to like it when you take her here. It’d be a shame if she couldn’t do that anymore if your ego grows too massive for this room. Try not to let it,” I say, and he rolls his eyes at my words.
“I’ll buy a bigger building if it comes to that,” he replies and takes his niece’s hand again, leaving me alone to roll my eyes at his words.
“Ready to go?” Graham’s deep voice with his heavy accent fills my ears a minute later, and I turn around to face my best friend. It’s finally the end of our shift.
“One million percent,” I reply, and he takes my hand, leading me to the staff room where we keep our stuff. Lucky for us, we usually get scheduled to work together. “You just missed your brother and Ellie, by the way,” I add as we pack up our things. Graham lets out a hurt scoff.
“And they didn’t say ‘hello’ to me? That’s bloody rude,” he replies, and I shake my head with a slight grin.
“I’m more interesting,” I tease, causing Graham to let out a snort and a quiet ‘yeah, right’. I throw my scarf at him, but he catches it with ease and throws it around his neck. “Hey,” I say, but he places the straps of his grey backpack on his shoulders without acknowledging my complaint.
“Are you in the mood for Thai?” he asks, and I focus my full attention on the younger version of Leonard.
They look almost identical, except my best friend doesn’t have a nose piercing or facial hair. He says it’s itchy and prefers to have a clean-shaven face. I prefer no facial hair on him too, but mostly because with it, he really does look like an identical version of Leonard.
“Why? Areyouin the mood for Thai?” I ask as he takes my bag to carry it for me.
He’s done that for years because acts of service are his love language. I’ve stopped telling him I’m more than capable of doing such small things myself because it makes him happy to do them for me. It’s his way of saying ‘I love you, let me take care of you even if it’s only by a little’. Fuck, I love this man with all of my heart.
“Maybe,” he says suspiciously, and I nudge his side in response.
“I want Thai, but only if we’re watching Tangled too,” I reply, and Graham wraps his arms around my shoulders.
“Should we invite Lulu?” I give him a side glance.
“Of course, we should invite Lulu. If we watch a Disney movie without her, she’ll rip our heads off,” I remind him, and my best friend laughs as we walk home, dialing our childhood friend’s number at the same time.
CHAPTERTHREE
leonard
Ihave a week off before the next race weekend, which is why, apart from my usual training, I’m doing my best to spend as much time with my family as I possibly can. This morning, I visited Mum and Dad. Yesterday, after I dropped Ellie off, Jack and Stu insisted I spend some time at their house. I was more than happy to oblige. I had missed them both more than I will ever admit.
Today, Benz, my happy Pit Bull, and I are on our way over to Graham’s and Chiara’s place. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself, seeing that infuriating woman twice in less than twenty-four hours, but I want to hang out with my brother. Unfortunately, those two are a package deal, especially because I’m going to their flat. At least Benz is excited. Her tail is wagging in a helicopter motion as we wait for one of them to open the door. For some inexplicable reason, she loves the little demon on the other side of the door.
Chiara.
Starling.
Demon.
Potato, potahto because that woman has been a pain in my arse since we were kids and she shoved my face into a pile of sand. The events that led up to that are unimportant, except for how red her face had grown from anger. It was hilarious. Ever since she appeared in my life, she’s outdone herself in being the biggest pain in the arse. She’s stubborn and moody, and I hate how similar we are in every single way. Neither of us cares much for people. We don’t smile, except sometimes for Ellie, Benz, and Graham, even my mum. We hate each other’s presence, and we both love Benz, who is still waiting patiently for her to open the door. I don’t understand why my sweet angel is so drawn to the spawn of Satan. It makes absolutely no sense to me.
“Benzie,” Chiara says as she kneels and greets my daughter. Benz licks her all over the face, earning herself a tiny smile from Starling. “Ah, and you brought your annoying daddy,” she says, causing my spine to stiffen in response. “You can leave now. I will bring her back tonight,” Chiara says, her Italian accent thick. She moved to England when she was four, but living with her Mamma, who has the strongest Italian accent in the world, rubbed off on her. She also went to an American-Italian International School for most of her life.
“Are you having a laugh? I’m not leaving my daughter with someone who barely knows how to take care of herself,” I say and point at her sweater, which is inside out. Starling follows my gaze, rolling her eyes in response.
“I know how to take care of myself,stronzo,” she replies, and I furrow my eyebrows at her. She just called me arsehole in Italian. Chiara’s done it often enough for me to have looked it up a while ago, much like many other swear words she’s thrown at my head over the years. “You’re so sweet,” she says to Benz and pats her stomach because my little angel has rolled onto her back to have her tummy scratched.
“Can we walk through the bloody door, or must we stay out here in the hall?” I ask, a little annoyed with her now. Chiara looks up at me with a scowl.
