Nine

'Well, I better get a move on.' I ruffle Tony's hair then stoop to kiss the top of Grace's head as she taps her plastic spoon against the high chair tray. Swallowing a final mouthful of scalding hot coffee, I set down my half-full mug and glance towards Leigh, but she's preoccupied with making their breakfasts, head down as she pours juice into plastic beakers, shakes cereal into dishes. 'Wish me luck?'

'You'll do just fine, Tim, if you give it a chance,' Leigh mutters.

'Right.' I want to hug her. But even though we're kinda talking, and she swears up and down that she believes me every time I insist that nothing happened with that girl and that I ain't interested in anyone but her, three days later there's still a gulf between us. An icy chasm of awkwardness, mistrust and blame that I can't seem to bridge, no matter what I say or do. 'Be home for dinner.'

'Okay.' But she still doesn't stop what she's doing, doesn't turn round or even so much as glance as me. So I snatch up my car keys and head out the house, resisting the urge to slam the door behind me, because lord knows me resorting to that kinda histrionic shit Ange was always so fond of ain't gonna help me none.

As I pause to unlock the car door, a dark blue sedan slows at the end of the drive blocking my exit, sits there unmoving, the engine idling. I'm about to go give them a piece of my mind when the front door of the house creaks open, catching my attention, and the car glides away.

'Tim, wait.' Leigh calls from the step, her voice small as she holds out a brown paper bag and a battered thermos in front of her. 'Here. I made you these. Didn't want you going hungry.'

'Cheers.' My fingertips brush hers as she hands them to me over the top of the open car door.

'I am happy, that you're taking the job, with Darrel.'

She smiles, at me. But always my own worst enemy, I toss my lunch down onto the passenger seat of the car and shrug at her, crushing this tiny sprig of an olive branch she's offering in the process. Why is this so fucking hard for me? Why can't I just smile back at her? Nod? Tell her, me too, or actually admit how I'm feeling instead of being such a fucking asshole all the damn time?

'Well, I better get back inside, to the kids.' She shifts awkwardly, the thin cotton of her dress pulling tight as she folds her arms, accentuating the slight soft swell of her belly. 'Wouldn't wanna make you late, on your first day.'

'Leigh, wait.' I step away from the car and catch her by the hand. 'You know I love you, right?'

'Sure.'

'And you do believe me, don't you? That I didn't do anything with that girl, that I could never—'

'I said I did, didn't I?' she hisses, her voice barely more than a whisper as she avoids meeting my gaze. 'We talked about this a hundred times already, so why d'you need to keep bringing it up all the damn time?'

The growl of an engine cuts between us. That same motor comes back into view, on the other side the street this time. The window wound down as the heavy set driver turns his face towards us, eyes obscured by a set of mirrored shades, grins at me.

Leigh's hand slips from mine as she shifts to see what it is I'm looking at. 'Who are they?'

'No idea.'

'Course you don't.'

'Whoever they are, they're nothing to do with me.'

'You seriously expect me to believe that, Tim? After all those weeks of you never giving me a straight answer about where you were or who you were actually with?'

'You know where I was. Out working. So I could take care of you and our family. Pay our never-ending bills.'

'Sure. You can keep telling yourself that you were only doing it for us, but it's no secret that you enjoyed it, running with Chris, being back doing all that shit again. And what about that crap with the broken window? What if it wasn't kids messing around?'

'Who the hell else would it be?'

She gnaws at her bottom lip, as she glances past me to the street, at the two guys making no effort to hide the fact they're watching us from their car. 'Maybe you should ask them. What if Anthony had been still sitting there.'

'But he wasn't, was he?'

'But it just keeps going round and round in my head. What if he had, Tim, all that broken glass...' She reaches out her hand, her fingers brushing against the faded lines of my scars.

'What if he'd ended up even more like me, you mean?' I sneer, brushing her hand away. 'Wouldn't want that now, would we?'

'No! God, Tim, thats not what I meant!' Leigh sniffs, wipes fat tears from her cheeks as she turns away. 'Jesus.'

'Hey.' I rest a hand on her shoulder, pull her into my arms. 'I'm sorry, guess I'm a little on edge. New start and all.' Over the top of her head, I watch the sedan slip out of view. 'I swear things'll be different from now on. No more secrets.'

'Friends of yours?' Darrel nods towards my car, to the two guys loitering nearby. The shorter one lights a cigarette, while the other kicks at the tires. So much for me convincing myself I was seeing things on Monday. Its definitely those same two guys. Brannigan's goons from the roadhouse.

'Nope.' I pick up two boxes of tiles from the bed of his truck, carry on towards the house we're renovating.

Never one to be outdone, Darrel easily lifts the next three boxes from the pile, follows me into the kitchen. 'Because I thought I made it clear, I run a clean operation. So if you ain't onboard with that—'

'No, I am. I swear.' I dump the box onto the floor, next to the others. 'They're nothing to do with me.'

'Then sort it out, Tim. Don't need assholes like that hanging around, giving the neighbours something to complain about. So go tell them to get lost. Don't make me regret hiring you on only your third damn day.'

I nod, stalk back out of the house. Only by the time I get back to the kerb they're gone, the taillights of that same motor from Monday disappearing out of sight.

I'm about to hang up, when my brother eventually picks up, ten rings in. 'Hello?'

'Hey, its me.'

'Jesus, Tim.' My brother says, his words stretched and distorted through a yawn. 'What's the emergency?'

'Nothing. Need a favour. You busy tonight or can you sit with the kids an hour or two? Give me a chance to spend some time with Leigh. Figured I could surprise her, take her out some place nice, dinner or a movie or something. Just the two of us.'

'Yeah? You two getting on okay again now?' Curly asks, by which we both know he means has she forgiven me yet for being such a dick?

'Getting there. So seven o'clock?'

'Sure. And the job? You actually lasted a whole week then?'

I roll my shoulders, trying to dispel the constant ache from all the heavy lifting. Truth be told, it's boring as all hell, lifting and carrying and being told what to do by Curtis the control freak all damn day. But then the flip side of that? Being able to tell Leigh I'll be home for dinner with her and the kids and actually mean it, seeing how happy me doing some honest work again makes her as we inch closer to going back to how things used to be between us? That's worth any amount of pain and hard graft.

'All good. Don't be late.'

The floorboards creak beneath Leigh's feet as she steps out the bathroom, and I drop the phone receiver back into place.

'Morning.' She stretches up, kisses my cheek softly. 'Who you talking to?'

'No one.'

'But I thought I heard you, on the phone.'

'Oh, yeah.' I rub at the back of my neck. 'It was nothing. Just a wrong number.'

Turning into our neighbourhood, I coast the familiar streets, past the kids play park, towards home.

But when I reach our street my good mood evaporates. Those two jerks are back again. Standing there, staring at the house. Smirking. Laughing.

'Evening, Shepard, how's the family?' One of them calls.

Enough's enough. Ignoring them ain't solving nothing.

Making a quick one-eighty, I stride back towards them.

'The hell are you doing here?' My hand automatically moves to my back pocket as, for the first time in years, I find myself wishing I still carried a blade. Or kept a baseball bat in the back of the car. Something—anything—to give me an edge. 'Hanging around my house, following me about? Don't you boys have nothing better to do?'

The short guy grins at me. His fat buddy stretches, cracks his knuckles.

'Mitch sends his regards, says—'

'Ain't interested.' Fighting the ever-increasing urge to smack him in the mouth, I count to ten in my head, desperately trying to keep my voice even, give the impression I don't give a shit. 'So why don't the pair of you get in your car and go tell Mitch Brannigan that if he's got something to damn well say to me, then maybe he should get off his ass and say it in person.'

The lardy one shrugs, tugs open the car door.

But the short-ass doesn't budge, just smirks up at me. 'Like you're important enough for him to get his hands dirty over. You're just a loose end. Trash that needs taking out.' He takes a step back towards their motor, stops again and jerks his head towards the house. 'Pretty wife you've got up there, fine looking pair of kiddies.'

'Whats your point?' I snap, my hands balling into fists at my side.

He shrugs, kicks at stone in the gutter. 'Be a shame if anything happened to fuck all that up for you. Heard your boy had a near miss, the other day. Maybe next time—'

I wheel towards him, jabbing him in the chest as his threats and insinuations chew through the last shreds of my self control. 'If you lay a finger on any of them I'll—'

'You'll what?' He slaps my hand away, straightens up a little and sneers, 'You threatening me, Shepard? Am I supposed to be scared?'

'I ain't kidding, asshole. Brannigan's beef is with me. So you go tell your boss to leave them out of it.'

With that, I launch myself at him, manage to catch him on the chin with a left hook before the big guy wades in. But while he might be big, he ain't exactly fast, so the three of us scuffle, and I blindly throw punches back and forth, he somehow ends up on his ass. Giving me a brief window to concentrate on the mouthy one, pounding my fists into him, over and over and over. Again and again and again.

I pause with my fist drawn back for a second, my other hand twisting the front of his shirt as he coughs, spitting blood onto the asphalt. 'Don't show your face here again! Understand?' My fist connects with his face, bone shattering beneath my hand.

'Daddy!' Anthony screeches, his high-pitched voice rings in my ears and I freeze, my bloody fist hovering inches from the guy's mangled nose as his sidekick lumbers up off the sidewalk towards us.

Leigh chases out into the front yard behind Anthony, grabs his shoulder with her left hand to stop him running over to me, our sobbing daughter balanced on her right hip.

'Get back in the house!' I yell at her, waiting until she pulls our bawling son back inside the house before I drag Brannigan's henchman up by the shirt, shoving him into the side of his car.

'Leigh, stop. What're you doing?'

'What does it look like?' She pulls a couple of her dresses from the closet, sending the hangers seesawing on the rail, drags open the dresser drawer and grabs a handful of underwear then bundles it all into a bag already stuffed with some of the children's clothes. She tugs at the zipper, closing the bag half way before giving up and picking it up. Side-stepping around me, she snatches the car keys from the hall table, and heaves the bulging holdall into the trunk before dashing back inside, scooping Grace out of her cot and into her arms as she hands Tony his blue stuffed bear and tells him to hurry up. 'I honestly thought things were getting better, after this week, that you meant it when you said things would be different. But you never really change, do you?'

'But this is your home, you can't leave.'

'No, Tim. Home is somewhere you're supposed to feel safe. And that's not here. Not any more. The kids deserve better than watching their daddy beat a man half to death on the front lawn.'

'But I was only protecting—'

'You were out of control.' She bends down and prizes Tony's chubby fingers from her skirt as he cowers behind her, her voice gentle. 'Come on now, sweetie. Be a good boy for Momma and lets go get into the car.'

I trail behind her, watching, as she buckles them into the back seat, shuts the door before tugging open the driver's door.

'But where will you go?'

'Sylvia's. For tonight, anyway. She won't mind.'

'And then what?'

She shrugs, turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars into life, pulls the door shut with a heavy clunk, and drives away.

A/N: Thank you for reading :)