Speak Now

XXVII

I avoid gyms as much as I can. I'm definitely one of those people who have water bottles and workout bags that have the I THOUGHT YOU SAID GIN slogan written across them. If it weren't for the fact that I'd cancelled on Mick yesterday afternoon, I wouldn't even be within seventeen feet of a boxing gym but I did cancel and here I am today, paying the price for being lazy and hungover. 

As it turns out, much to my surprise, Sam is taking part in an upcoming charity boxing match alongside his brother, Mick and Elias Marshall, one of Daniel's longtime friends. My father has been banned from the sport by decree of Charlotte Fletcher, who said that if Dad threw a bunch, even gloved, he'd be sleeping on the couch for the rest of his life. Not that he'd be here today, anyhow, since he was back in work, saving more children's lives. The other men were here, though, as well as Max Casek and Mick's toddler son, Freddie. 

During the early afternoon training bouts, Mick and Elias had been in the ring while Sam and I gossiped and looked after Freddie. Daniel and Max were at the punch bags, each trying to outdo the other with how hard and how fast they could throw their fists against the leather. Their competitiveness got a little out of hand by the time they got to the speed punching ball and the pairing had to be switched up so that Sam and Daniel headed into the ring. Elias excused himself, stating that he had to get back in time to pick up his teenage daughter up from ballet class. 

"Same time next week, guys," Elias shouted over his shoulder as he left. 

Mick was slightly too exhausted to speak and only managed to grunt and raised his hand in a wave. He reaches over to take Freddie from me but the little boy is far too preoccupied with twisting his fingers through my hair and pulling funny faces at me to even notice his dad. Max sighs heavily and decides to indulge Mick by going to sit on his knee and knuckling his step-father's hair. 

"Get off me, you hippo," Mick grumbles, trying to shove the six foot two, nineteen-year-old off him. Max steadfastly refused and instead, clung on a little tighter. "Max, seriously, get the fuck off me."

Freddie's head swivelled in his father's direction. "No. Bad word. Tell mummy."

"Great," Mick huffs. With one almighty push to Max's side, Mick managed to tumble Max onto the concrete floor, where he lay, unmoving for thirty seconds. "Stop playing dead, you little sh... sugar. You're teaching your little brother naughty words."

Max cranks one eye open. "You're the one that said the 'f' word and then almost said the 's' word, so really, who is the bad influence, really? I vote you." Max raises his hand and looks at Freddie, putting on his best enthusiastic baby voice. "Raise your hand if you think daddy's the naughty one!"

Instantly, Freddie giggled and raised his hand. I'd been warned that Freddie hero-worshipped his brother but to see it in action really was something else. Due to the age gap between Lyanna's boys, Max was old enough to be a hands-on older sibling, just like I was with Sera, Joss, Owen and Levi. It makes a huge difference when you're older and can be involved with your siblings' life, taking them to parks unsupervised, driving them to and from nursery or dance or piano classes; it's especially meaningful when you're part of a blended family and everyone wants to make sure that things run smoothly. There's a risk when you're the odd one out in the family that you feel somehow less but I have to say, I've never felt like that and seeing how Mick and Max banter like they do, I highly doubt Max feels like that as well.