*WRITING AND EDITING*
Warning ⚠️ this book contains adult themes and violence. Read at your own risk.
~ Hardin Scott Fan-Fiction ~
Hardin Scott is the ruthless son of a well known London mobster. With his teeth bore and his guard up will he be able...
(Song- Hate U Love U by Olivia O'Brien) ———— Hardin's POV
"Hardin!" My mother squeals happily as she dashes from her house and down towards me.
"Hi mum." She flies in for a hug and I don't stop her, not this time anyways.
"How was your flight? I know what you get like on airplanes." She hooks her nimble fingers around the handle of my suitcase and drags it up the pathway leading to her front door. Ever since her and Mike got engaged she's been a little snobby but at least she doesn't act like a total stuck up bitch, "How are things back home? How are you?" She questions further.
"It was fine. Everything is fine." I reply simply. I want to avoid talking about my life back home as much as possible, she doesn't deserve the weight my words will cause her. I hate it when she worries about me.
"And your father?" I want into her gaze, making sure she can see me before I shrug my shoulders. It's always so fucking awkward when she asks about my dad.
"Where's Mike?" I ask, reminding her that she is only a couple of weeks away from marrying another man. The house is quiet which leaves me to question where my mothers new play thing is.
"He's out fetching a few things from IKEA, he is building a gym in the garage! Go take a look." She shoos me away and I roll my eyes as I slug my way in the direction of the garage. I snicker quietly to myself at the sound of her struggling up the stairs with my suitcase. She is so stubborn, I know she won't ask for my help. I almost burst out into chuckles at her yelling at me down the stairs.
"Bloody hell, Hardin. What on earth did you pack? The whole of England?" Her voice is strained as she wedges the case up each individual step and I laugh quietly.
"Yeah, yeah. C'mon mum, use your lady muscles." I tease as I push open the creaky door to the garage, flicking on the light switch and watching as a row of bright lights illuminate the cold room.
Holy shit.
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It doesn't look half bad, actually.
A heavy black punching bag hangs from the beams in the ceiling, there is a weight bench position near by the punching bag and there are mirrors lining one of the large walls. A weight rack is laid by the door and I can't help but pick one of the dumbbells up.
"Not too shabby, huh?" My mum places a hand on my shoulder as she stands in the doorway with me however I shrug it off.
"It's alright." I reply bitterly. I don't know why I am like this, I know the gym is far from just 'alright'. It's amazing but I just have to be an asshole about everything, don't I?
"It's pretty great." I quickly correct my rudeness and watch as the light returns to my mother's eyes. The sight always makes me somewhat happy..
