Saving Lotte Sullivan | Collingwood/Carlton

114: texts i can't send fwd

A/N - I'd like to give a massive thanks to chablemisspell for the drawing of Sam De Koning featured in this chapter - it is amazing, it is mind boggling how she's so talented, and most of all it definitely sums up SLS' Sam! Chable is also the inspiration behind the character, Navy.

...

'We're home!'

Tom De Koning dramatically yelled out to his fiancé, as he threw the front door open and held it, waiting for his little brother to get out of the car.

He hadn't yet. Quiet as anything and almost staring Tom out, he hadn't moved from his spot in the backseat. And why he'd picked the backseat was again, another thing his older brother couldn't understand.

'Sam' Tom said, staring at him and nodding towards the house.

The younger brother sighed, and on shaking legs, left the car and slowly walked inside.

'Navy's bringing your suitcase later. You're welcome to watch TV, or eat, or sit with the dog - just don't do anything that'll cause you more grief' Tom said, laying down the law. Sam glanced around the living room - he'd been to Tom's house a million and one times, but he'd forgotten what it looked like. It was an old country house, modernised to look new. But Tom and Bianca were dying to relocate. It was a four bedroom house, but she'd always hated it - saying it was too big for them. Too big and empty.

'Do you know where my phone is? Do the club still have it?' Sam asked quietly, desperate to reconnect with his friends and teammates. He slowly laid down on the couch, annoyed that he was too tall to fit.

'Uhh...dad's car, I think. Do you still want your ripped up Geelong guernsey? It's going to mum's if you don't' Tom said, holding it up in all its trashed glory. Sam didn't respond, closing his eyes, still in a world of pain.

'I'll leave it on your bed' Tom decided, disappearing into the other end of the house. Sam had reluctantly claimed the bedroom as far away from the front of the house, from Tom and Bianca's room - and of course, from the daylight. It drove him mental since his head injury.

Tom sighed, returning to his own bedroom, where Bianca was laying in bed, looking as sick as a dog. Pale and exhausted.

'Are the meds working yet?' He asked, noticing the sickened look on her face.

'No' she replied, with a very dry throat. Tom sighed.

'You were sick for all those months, but you've definitely been getting worse. I don't understand, is something wrong with the baby?' He asked nervously, preparing to get yelled at. She barely even moved.

'Something's wrong with me, not the baby. The baby's fine' Bianca replied, rolling her eyes and glancing up at the framed ultrasound photo on her bedside table. The white piece of paper behind the photo, with BABY DE KONING written below in navy blue marker, of course by no other than the footballer who played for the navy blue team.

'I'm just so sorry that we couldn't - we've always tried to play it safe, but obviously-'

'It's fine, Tom. I'm excited anyway. Even if she's come a few years earlier than we expected-'

'Yeah, like ten years earlier' Tom said, rolling his eyes.

Bianca, using all the strength she could muster, sat up and glared at him. 'I am not having a baby at 34!' She yelled.

But something in Tom's brain had just, literally, clicked.

'Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait - did you say she? She's come a few years earlier? She?' He asked.