Laura's Light (8 page)

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Authors: Donna Gallagher

BOOK: Laura's Light
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“Wow, man, I didn’t mean to upset you. I think a gym session is just what you need. I’m coming over and I’m not taking no for an answer. And just to clarify your disparaging remarks over my needing a leave pass from my wife, yep, you’re spot on. Apparently I’m getting on her nerves, being underfoot all the time. She and Mandy are going shopping. JT is hitting the gym as well. We just thought maybe you’d like a session. And it is clear you need one.” Brodie’s dark chuckle filtered down the line. No matter what Trevor said, no matter how rudely he spoke, Brodie always managed to ignore it, managed to find some humour to lighten the mood.

“Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to bite your head off. Yeah, you’re probably right. No point sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Maybe a few rounds of boxing with the big fella might knock some sense into me. Appreciate the invite. I’ll be ready when you get here.”

“Goodo! And Trev, whatever it is that has you down, it’ll pass. You’ve got support—you know that, right?”

After hanging up, Trevor felt slightly more with it. Brodie was right—no point dwelling on stuff that
had
happened. It was better to concentrate on the good things in his life. His mates, his job, the rugby league community—especially his old club, the Jets—those things were his lifelines. He could count on Brodie to have his back and not judge. Trevor needed his mate, and with Brodie’s help he would not fall into that dark abyss that was always a lingering presence in his life.

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 

“Hey, Ma, you home? Is it safe to come in? You’re not doing anything that might scar my young, impressionable mind, are you?”

Laura was sitting at the kitchen table when she heard her son come home, and she tried not to overact at his light-hearted jest. God, she was a mess. She needed to pull herself together for the sake of her son.

“Yeah, funny, Mitchell. I’m here in the kitchen, and yes, fully clothed and acting like a respectable mother should.”

“Good to know, Mum.” Mitchell said as he entered the room and made a beeline for the refrigerator, dropping his gear bag on the floor next to the table. “So I don’t suppose this respectable mother has been cooking? You know, made something to eat for her starving son?”

When her son entered their home, his first mission was always about food. Laura smiled at the thought, reminiscing over all the home-baked cookies and milk the two had shared over the years at this very table. But suddenly Laura felt a tiredness, an all-consuming weariness that seeped to the centre of her being.

“Mitchell, don’t leave your gym bag there—put your dirty clothes in the washing basket. How many times do I have to tell you? You’re an adult. I shouldn’t even be
doing
your washing anymore.”

“Sorry, Mum. I was on my way to the laundry. But you know how the fridge always calls to me,” Mitchell said. Laura watched as her son closed the refrigerator door. He walked over and picked up his discarded bag, pulling a face as he opened the zipper. “My stuff reeks—what about I put this load on straight away, save your delicate nose from my sweaty stench?”

Mitchell’s apology and thoughtfulness shook Laura from her bitter mood. She had spoken harshly and it wasn’t her son’s fault she was feeling low. She shouldn’t take it out on him. Shaking herself from her gloom, she stood and headed towards the fridge. She would make Mitchell some lunch to make up for her grumpiness.

“Thanks, son. That sounds good. You start the washer and I’ll throw something together for you. Wouldn’t want you passing out from starvation, would we?”

Laura stared into her full refrigerator, trying to find some inspiration as to what to feed her son. She could hear him moving around the laundry room, then the water coming on to fill the washer. “Just a spoonful of the washing powder, Mitchell—it’s concentrated.” She shouted out the instructions as she began pulling foodstuffs from the fridge. “What about some grilled cheese, ham and tomato? How does that sound?” She didn’t wait for Mitchell’s response—she knew him well enough to know he loved her toasties.

“Awesome, Mum. Sounds great. Did Trev leave?” Mitchell’s voice was closer—he had obviously returned to the kitchen. Laura was pleased her back was to him as she prepared the food, so she didn’t have to mask her pain.

“He had things to do.” Her response was clipped. Laura was not sure she could have said any more without giving away her distress.

“Well, I gotta tell you, Mum, the Jets gossipmongers have been out in full force—got ribbed by all the guys this morning about you and Trev having dinner at Mia’s. Gosh, you can’t sneeze these days without someone knowin’ about it. Anyway, the guys were giving me shit about how now that my mum and Trevor had hooked up I’d be getting heaps of good press. They were sayin’ stuff like I wouldn’t even have to play all that good and my new daddy would edit the footage to make me look like a star. Pfft! As if I need any help to be a star—I’m a natural.”

Laura was only just holding it together. Mitchell was confirming her worst fears. She had been gossiped about—his teammates all knew that she had been out with Trevor. The clichéd desperate older woman chasing a younger man—what did they call it, a pity fuck? And now that it was all over, they would also know that he had rejected her. More gossip. More gossip about Mitchell’s single mother.

She was filled with shame, so caught up in her own thoughts that she not only hadn’t picked Mitchell up on his swearing, but hadn’t noticed she was burning the food.

“Mum…
Mum.
Are you okay? Umm, I think something is burning.” Laura felt Mitchell push past her, watched as he removed the tray from under the heat. She blanched as she realised that he had probably burnt his hands on the hot tray because she was wearing the oven mitt.

“Ouch… Ouch… That’s hot.”

Laura turned the cold water tap on and grabbed her son’s hands, pulling them under the water to ease the pain of his burns. They didn’t seem to be bad, but she had to do something.
Hopefully the water will work better on his pain than the shower worked on mine
, she thought sadly. A sob escaped her mouth before she managed to get herself back under control.

“Mum, it’s okay. I’m not burnt, the tray was just a bit hot. Don’t cry.” Mitchell’s voice was full of concern as he stood looking down at her. Mitchell had grown taller than Laura at the age of thirteen. Her son, her beautiful boy. Her life. And she had just done something so stupid… She was an old fool.

“Mum, look at me. What is wrong? You’re scaring me, Mum. Have I done something, have I upset you? Something has been wrong from the minute I got home. Tell me, Mum. Maybe I can help or fix whatever it is I’ve done to cause this.”

“Oh, baby, you have done nothing wrong, sweetheart. It’s me—I’m the one. I’ve been such a silly old woman. Shameful. I should never have let Trevor Hughes… Anyway, it’s over now. Trevor has gone. Hopefully the gossip will fade. I’m sorry for embarrassing you, Mitchell. I didn’t think. It wasn’t my intention. I’ve been alone for so long…haven’t dated for so long… I just didn’t understand.”

It was reprehensible that she stood crying in her son’s arms, but she couldn’t stop. What sort of mother was she, leaning on her own son this way? But she couldn’t stop.

“Oh, Ma! I’m so sorry, Ma. I don’t give a fuck about gossip, Mum. And neither should you. Fuck Trevor Hughes—he wasn’t good enough for you anyway. Scumbag. You’re not alone, Mum. I’m here, always will be. The Dynamic Duo, you and me.”

“Watch your language, young man. I may be a snivelling mess but I’m still your mother and you will not use those words in my home.” Laura gave the admonishment lightly—she even managed an awkward smile as she let her son console her, let him hold her as she had held him so many times through his childhood. “You’re a good boy, Mitchell. I love you, son. Please don’t hold any animosity towards Trevor.” Just saying his name made Laura’s voice quiver. “He made me no promises. It was what it was—a one-night stand. It was me who misunderstood. I’m being silly and dramatic. Your mother had sex.”

“Too much information, Mother.”

“Well, you can rest assured that I’m unlikely to ever bother again, if that helps?” Laura’s sad chuckle was muffled against the warmth of her son’s chest. And with the realisation that it was a warm and rather pungent chest, Laura found that her distress was fading. She felt calmer. Soothed.

“So you didn’t shower at the gym, then, Mitchell?” she said as she pulled herself from her son’s embrace. Stood on her own two feet. Regained her composure. “You stink, son. Go shower and I will redo these toasties. This time I’ll try not to burn them.” She spun him towards the kitchen doorway and playfully swatted her six-foot-tall, muscular son’s backside. “Just make it a quick shower, or your food will get cold and soggy.”

“Mum. I love you. You’re the best mother anyone could have. Don’t for a second think I don’t understand what you have sacrificed for me, given up for me. I know, I do.”

“Mitchell, stop. Otherwise I’ll be crying again and honestly, I’m all cried out. Darling, I gave nothing up because of you. What I did or didn’t do was my own choice. You are the best thing in my life, my greatest achievement. There was never anything more important to me than you. Never will be. No matter who may or may not come into my life, you will always be my priority, always be my baby. So scoot—you are stinking up my kitchen.”

Laura watched, full of emotion, as her son left the room. She could still feel the warmth lingering from the kiss he delivered to her cheek. He was her sunshine. Her life was good. She would be fine. And much to her surprise, she found herself humming as she set to work making something more edible than the blackened tray of food she left sitting in her sink.

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

“Well, boys, gotta say that this is a sorry sight. Once the scourge of opposition forwards across the globe, and now here we sit, drinking juice from a bloody yuppie juice bar at the gym. What’s next—sipping caramel lattes with the womenfolk?”

JT’s gruff mocking tones had Trevor chuckling under his breath. Just the thought of the monster that was JT sitting around sipping fancy coffee was a sight he’d pay to see, and filming it would be even better.


Skinny
lattes, mate,” Brodie added, laughing. “Honestly, think we’re getting old, big guy. I’m exhausted—my body aches and it wasn’t half the session we’d have been doing if we were still playing. At least we won’t have to do the bloody Kurnell sand hills anymore. Pre-season training’s the pits.”

“Boys, come now, you’ve only been retired for a minute. Just wait till you have to sit through a game…just watching. Then you’ll feel the pain of old age. You’ll both be dinosaurs before you know it,” Trevor added, feeling better than he’d thought he would, enjoying the laughter his comments caused from the men sitting with him.
True mates.

“Dinosaurs. Huh. Just like we thought about the older blokes way back when we started out, hey, mate. Karma, Mandy would call it.”

“God, JT, what has happened to you? Mandy is turning you into a metro—all this yuppie and karma shit. The JT I knew wouldn’t have known what those words were, let alone used them in conversation.”

“Fuck you too, Brodes.”

Trevor laughed at the two-fingered salute JT gave Brodie.

“Good to hear you laughing, Trev. Wanna tell me what had you all in a spin earlier?”

“Here we go, touchy-feely Brodie comes a-calling.” Trevor grinned as he used the same words that he had uttered in anger a short while ago.

“You might as well spill, mate,” JT butted in. “Brodes is like an old woman when he gets a bee in his bonnet over something.”

“It’s not much really…just… I blew it with Laura Harris this morning. Everything was going great and then I had to open my big mouth—you know, mentioned how I would probably stuff up and disappoint her, said she probably shouldn’t count on me. And the next thing I knew, she’d booted me to the kerb. I was just trying to look out for her, you know?”

“Mate, when it comes to women, they just don’t get us. Just take me and Mandy. After she got hurt I tried to protect her by not having sex, didn’t want to hurt her. Next thing I know, she’s accusing me of going off her. Fuck, I’d walked around with a hard-on for days with wanting her. You can’t win with women.” JT shock his head, clearly frustrated.

“Yeah, but you can’t live without them once they get under your skin,” Brodie added, his tone serious.

Trevor would have laughed over their conversation if it hadn’t been exactly how he was feeling.

“Thanks for that insight, JT,” Trevor said, raising one eyebrow in JT’s direction. “I’m sure Mandy will be pleased you shared it with us.”

“Trevor, do you think you really blew it? Or are you using it as an excuse to hide away?” Brodie’s directness caught Trevor off guard. “If you want something with her, don’t give up. Laura’s a top woman—solid, mate. Go back, try again. She doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman that just wants a casual thing. You two really had chemistry last night. And before you make some smart-arsed remark, JT, I’m quoting your missus. Caitlin and Mandy were gushing about it for hours after you left last night, Trevor. And if I know anything, I know my wife and Mandy notice stuff like that.”

Trevor liked the sound of that—chemistry, noticeable chemistry. The more he thought about what Brodie had said, the more positive he felt. Brodie was right.
Again.
He and Laura had a connection. She wasn’t the sort of woman to have a fling. There had never been even a hint of her being involved with anyone, never any gossip surrounding Rookie’s mother…
Up until now
, he thought grimly.

“Do you really think she could put up with me? You know, Brodie, that dark side of me.” Trevor didn’t really want to elaborate about his fight with depression in front of JT, didn’t want his friend to think any less of him because of his weakness.

“It’s a fucking illness, mate. Stop punishing yourself. You didn’t cause it, it just happened. Do you think we would think less of you if you were a diabetic or suffered from some other disease? Depression is nothing to be ashamed of. You are surviving, not letting it get the better of you. You are actively fighting the disease and if you want to know, I’m fucking proud of you, mate,” Brodie said, as he leaned towards Trevor and placed his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “It can’t be easy for you—I can’t pretend to understand what it feels like, just like I can’t feel what a diabetic feels. Tell Laura. Explain that you fight the disease, take medication. She’ll be sweet.”

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