Defeating the Odds Read online

  “Rehab? What the fuck, Nick. I am not going to rehab. I am twenty-eight-years old for fucks sake. You can’t control me,” I snap at him. My nostrils flare as my anger spikes. Who the fuck does my brother think he is? I control my own fucking life. I shake my head and turn to walk away from him. From the man I thought had my back no matter what. He fucking taught me to how to play football. Nick is a few years older than me and taught me everything I know.

  “Valentine backs me,” he states. His words knock the wind out of me. My legs stop working. I stand there, waiting for his next words. “He is going to release a statement, saying that you hurt your ankle in training and you need minor surgery. You will be out for three to four months. That covers the ninety-day rehab. You are being signed in to the Wood Lake Recovery Centre tomorrow morning. You are coming home with me and I will drop you off. Now move.” He nods his head in the directions of the exit. My will taken from me, I begrudgingly follow my brother out the door and follow him to his car. My heart pounding in my chest, my palms sweating. My mind racing trying to think of excuses to get me out of this fucked up mess. I stand stock still and stare at Nick as he climbs into his car, disappointment clear on his face. My heart fucking hurts like a son of a bitch seeing that look.

  My life is fucked up, I get that. But I don’t have a fucking problem. I can stop gambling if I want to. Fuck them.

  I stand and look up at the tall white building in front of me. My sports bag in hand, I shake my head and sigh. How the hell did I end up here?

  “Why you doing this, man?” my brother Alex asks as he slaps me on the shoulder.

  “I gotta, else Coach is going to kick me to the curb.”

  “Can’t you just get a new coach?” my youngest brother Callum asks. I glance over to him and shake my head.

  “Nah, I’d have to start from the bottom again. I’ve worked too hard for that.” I take a deep breath and start climbing the steps that lead up to the large black double doors. My brothers follow me, muttering between themselves. I don’t pay attention to what they are saying, too busy looking around. I step through the doors and in front of me is a large white desk with an older lady sitting behind it. She smiles and climbs to her feet.

  “Hello, young man, are you visiting?” I look at her name tag. Nora.

  “I’m checking in, please.” I drop my bag onto the floor and fold my hands together, placing them on top of the desk in front of me. “I’m Damon Vardy.”

  “Oh, yes. I thought you looked familiar. My husband loves to watch those cage fight things that you all do.” She chuckles, shuffling papers on her desk. Her eyes brighten as she finds what she is looking for. “If you could just look these over and check to make sure all the paperwork is correct.” She hands me a clipboard and pen and points to a set of chairs to the right of her desk. I nod, pick up my bag and amble over to a chair. I look over the forms and am surprised to see that they had already been filled out; my name, address, age, medical history, ethnicity and sexual orientation. Why the hell did they need to know that I liked to fuck guys?

  “Who filled all of this out?” I call across the small reception to Nora.

  “A Mr. Wilton.” Coach had already been and done this? He was dead serious about me being here. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” I climb to my feet and march back over to her. “It’s all correct.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get someone to come and show you to your room.” I nod and then turn my back on her as she picks up the phone.

  I look over at my brothers who are still muttering away to each other. I’m about to turn back to Nora when I hear her put the phone down, but something Alex says catches my attention.

  “What did you just say?” I bark, storming towards them. They both fly to their feet and back away from me.

  “Uhhh,” Alex mutters.

  “Alex,” I growl, clenching my jaw and tightening my fists. I would never hurt my brothers, but they looked scared of me. Is this what I have become?

  “Mum and Dad have been visiting Flynn in the hospital. He’s only just woken up.”

  “At least he got to wake up,” I mumble, thinking about our sister who was lying in a coffin, buried in the dirt, all alone. I yank at the hair tie holding the bun together on top of my head and run my hands through my dark, shoulder-length hair. This was a calming motion for me.

  “How long have they been visiting him?”

  “All week - since you knocked him out,” Callum replied.

  I can feel the rage burning a hole in my stomach. My fists ache from being balled up so tight and my head is pounding. I needed to hit something.

  “Mr. Vardy, I’ll show you to your room.” I look over my shoulder at the broad, sexy man standing there. He has a shaved head, dark brown eyes and a wedding ring on his left hand. All my hopes of getting a different sort of relief flies out the window. I snatch my bag up off the floor and take a step away from my brothers.

  “Damon,” Callum calls. I stop and look at them both over my shoulder.

  “Go home and don’t come back. I don’t want visitors.”

  “Wait,” Alex shouts. My steps don’t falter as I walk through the next set of doors that the sexy man used a card to open. Security was tight in this place. I wouldn’t be able to just leave when I wanted to.

  “So, Mr. Vardy-”

  “Damon,” I cut him off. I hated being called Mr. Vardy.

  He nods his head. “Damon, I’m William, everyone just calls me Will.”

  “And what does your wife call you?” I nod to his wedding ring.

  “My husband calls me whatever he wants.” He chuckles, walking into a room to the left of where we were standing. Fuck, I knew I liked this guy. I wonder how committed to his husband he is. “This is the communal area.”

  I look over at the large area full of laptops. “Wait, we’re allowed to go online?”

  “Yes, this isn’t prison. There are some restrictions, but you can access the usual websites, email, social media and stuff. Unless it causes some kind of trigger to your rehabilitation.”

  “I don’t have any triggers,” I snap, once again running my hand through my hair that was still sitting just above my shoulders. It probably looks a mess as I just threw it up in a bun while it was still wet after my shower this morning.

  “Hey, you gotta get out. I got somewhere I need to be,” I say to the sexy as hell guy that was still lying face down on my bed. I grab a pair of boxers out of my drawer and, after dropping my towel, slip them on. My chest is still damp from my shower.

  “Now you’re kicking me out after you wouldn’t let me leave all week?” Sean mumbles, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms above his head. The bed sheet falls to just below his pelvis and it takes all the strength I have not to pounce on him again. I can’t be late this morning. I can’t give Coach a reason to kick off at me.

  “Let you leave?” I chuckle, taking a step closer to the bed. “I didn’t hear you begging to go. I did hear you begging for a lot of other things.”

  “Surely you’ve got time for one more round?” He pushes up onto his elbow and runs several kisses across my chest. I glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It’s already ten minutes after ten and I need to be at the rehab place by eleven. It will take me at least thirty to forty minutes to get there.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have time.” I pull back, grab one of the hair ties off my bedside table and pull my hair up into a bun. I’m gutted that I hadn’t set an alarm to wake me earlier. I was sure that I would be awake by six, like I was every other morning. My morning routine was always the same: wake up, make a smoothie, jog to the gym and workout for hours.

  Sean was exactly what I’d needed this week. I hadn’t been allowed to train - Coach said I had to prepare myself for rehab, where I wouldn’t be able to train. I’d hated that. I didn’t know how long I was going to be stuck in that place, and not being able to train would set me back.

  “Fine,” he complains as he sits up a
nd throws the sheet off him, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He is fully erect, and I find myself falling to my knees in front of him. Who knew how long it would be until I had another cock in my mouth. I run my hands up his thighs, and just as I lower my head, there is a banging on my front door.

  “Fuck!” Sean and I shout at the same time.

  “Come on, bro, we gotta go,” Alex shouts through my front door.

  “Who’s that?” Sean asks as he climbs to his feet and starts dressing.

  “It’s my brother.” I step into my jeans and grab a t-shirt before I leave the bedroom to answer the front door.

  As I round the corner, I spot my brothers, Alex and Callum, standing in my kitchen. I guess they found my spare key.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We’re driving you; your car isn’t going to be any use to you there.” Alex smiles.

  “Speaking of cars, whose is that Mercedes sitting out in your driveway?” Callum asks.

  “That would be mine,” Sean mumbles as he rounds the corner. He is dressed in the suit he arrived in seven days ago. He called in sick to work and we spent most of the time not needing clothes. I nod to the front door and he follows behind me. I grab the back of his neck and lower his head towards mine and kiss him for the last time.

  “Give me a call?” he asks.

  “Sorry, I’m going away for a little while. Not sure when I’ll be back.” I shrug my shoulders.

  “I had fun.” He pecks my lips once more before he leaves my house. I watch him walk away, smiling to myself.

  “Let’s go,” Alex says, slapping me on the shoulder and ushering me out of the house.

  “Hey, you coming?” I snap out of my daydream and follow Will down the hallway. “The kitchen is in there, the dining room in there, bathroom.” He points out every room until we get to the stairs. “All bedrooms are upstairs. The doctors’ offices are down that hallway. Let me show you your room.”

  I follow him up the stairs and down the long hallway until he reaches room fourteen, on the left. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another card, which he presses against the panel on the door before pushing it open. He stands back and waves me to go in first. The room is nice. It has a double bed with blue bedding and curtains. The window overlooks a large garden and swimming pool.

  “Can I use that pool?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it’s heated. Your bathroom is through that door. Get yourself settled. Here is your key card.” He places it on the bedside table. “The doctors also have a copy so don’t think you can just hide yourself away in here. There are compulsory tasks you have to complete while you are here.”

  “And what is your role here?”

  “I’m a nurse. You need anything, come and find me. I’m usually in the communal area, but my pager number is in the welcome file.” He points to the large folder on the desk under the window. “Your first meeting with Dr. Shilcott is in,” he pauses and glances at his watch, “ten minutes. Head back down the stairs and turn right. His door is the third on the left. Knock and wait for a response before you go in.”

  “Thank you.” He smiles and leaves me in peace. I glance around the room again. What have I got myself into? This place is going to kill me with boredom.

  I stare up at the freshly plastered ceiling in the spare bedroom at my brother Nick's house that he owns with his wife, Violet. They are amazing together, always have been. They have been together since school. Fuck, that is a long-arse time. Memories flash in my head from yesterday.

  I walk out onto the training pitch and see my team all stretching for today’s training. I let my gaze drop to Burton's arse as he bends over, stretching his hamstring. Damn, that is a tight arse I could pound all day fucking long. Someone screaming my name brings me out of my horny fog.

  “Matthews! What the fuck are you doing here?” Valentine's voice makes me cringe, his Spanish accent making him sound more pissed than he actually is. I turn to him and offer a smile, knowing that he will see straight through it.

  “Training, Coach,” I answer.

  “Hell no, you are not. You go, now. Your brother is taking you to rehab. I don’t need a tonto (fool) player on my team. Sort yourself out before you come back and win me some games. Now go,” he spits out at me. Okay, so maybe he is angry at me.

  “I don’t need help. I have it all under con-”

  “Leave!. Come back when you are good and ready to play. To win.” He doesn’t wait for a response from me. I turn to see my teammates watching me and my anger boils.

  “Fuck this.” I storm off to my car and drive to a nearby pub. I need a drink - or twelve. I need to forget all this fucked up mess.

  The loud knock on the door brings me back to today.

  “Ford, time to get up, man. We need to have breakfast and hit the road.” Nick thumps the door once more for good measure. I scrub my hands over my face, forcing myself to build up the courage to get out of this bed. It has been three days since I got kicked out of training and I feel like shit. I take a deep breath and swing my legs over the side of the bed, flicking the quilt off me. I crack my neck back and forth - it’s a habit of mine. A nervous tick. I stand up and walk over to the dresser where I pick up the clothes my brother left for me. I tug on the jeans and the plain black t-shirt, leaving my trainers by the door. I walk into the en-suite bathroom and turn the tap on, avoiding the overly large mirror that seems to glare at me, begging for me to look at it. I dread to think what the hell I look like.

  I splash cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up more. I didn’t sleep a lot last night. The thought of spending the next three months - ninety-fucking-days - in rehab makes me sick to my stomach. Damn it all to fucking hell and back. I lift a towel off the rail and dry my face, before dropping it into the washing basket and exiting the bathroom. I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen where Nick and Violet are sitting eating breakfast. I force a smile on my face and greet them.

  “Morning,” I say and walk over to the coffee machine. Violet gets up from the table and walks over to me, hugging me from behind. She’s a hugger.

  “Morning, Ford. How did you sleep?” she asks and steps to my side, smiling up at me. She is a tiny thing, all four-foot-ten of her. I smile down at her and kiss her cheek.

  “I slept okay, I suppose,” I explain.

  “That’s bullshit if I ever heard it,” my brother says from the table.

  “Fuck off, dickhead.”

  “Language,” Violet snipes at us. She never liked us swearing.

  “Sorry,” I mutter the same time as Nick.

  “Go, sit and eat,” she says, handing me a plate and my coffee. I listen to her because she may be small but, fuck me, is she scary. I drink my coffee but don’t eat much. My stomach is in knots. I am pretty sure my stress levels are dangerously high. Maybe heart attack high. I place the fork on the plate and sit back, taking in my brother and sister-in-law talking about their day. They own their own estate agency and are loaded. Guilt eats at me when I think about all the money I have lost over the years, truly screwing up my mum's life. Fuck, I hope she can forgive me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Everything that has happened flashes through my head, all my fucked-up decisions. Letting my family down. My team. No wonder Valentine agreed to this recovery thing. I honestly never knew there was a rehab for gambling. I thought that was for drunks or druggies. But what the hell do I know. I just kick a ball around a pitch for ninety-minutes. Fuck me. Ninety: the number of the days I’ll be locked away.

  “Ford,” Nick’s voice brings me out of my pity party. I open my eyes to see both he and Violet are looking at me with concern. My chest tightens from their gazes. It feels like a fucking elephant is sitting on it. My vision gets foggy and I take a deep breath and push the heel of my hand into my chest, trying to alleviate the pain. I shake my head and try to focus on my brother, his eyes matching my own. His form comes closer and I feel hands on my shoulders. “Ford. Fuck man, look at me. Brea
the in deep. Come on, Ford, you’re scaring me, brother.”

  I blink a few times and take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. My breathing becomes easier and my vision becomes clearer. I nod my head at my brother and he takes a step back. I owe these two a hell of a lot; I can’t let them down again. I have to do this for them, my mum, and for me.

  “I’m good, man. Shit, I thought I was going to have a heart attack then.” I chuckle.

  “Well, you scared me and Vi. You’re lucky Ashley went into the lounge to grab his homework. Now, how about we eat and then we can head out. We have a four-hour drive ahead of us.” His words fill me with dread, and it’s a feeling I can’t escape this time.

  The drive took us just under four hours and we talked about everything. I told Nick about the shit that started it all. I felt like a fucking woman laying all my crazy shit out there for him. I told him about what started the gambling, and that I can control it. I can stop anytime I want. Nick didn’t believe me, which is fucked-up. I told him about the little bets among friends and then the spiralling shit that followed. He didn’t say a word while I was talking. He listened to everything and never judged me. He is my brother and he loves me, no matter how many times I act like a knob and fuck up. He asked his questions and I answered the best I could.

  We pull up outside Wood Lake Recovery centre and park the car. Nick turns the engine off but neither of us make a move to get out. I take in the building in front of me. The building where I will live for the next ninety days. Ninety days to clear my head and help with my addiction of gambling. The building is an old barn, it has been converted with stonewash walls and terracotta tiled roof. The reception looks open and bright. Inviting. There are flowers and bushes that line one side of the building and a car park on the other side. Benches are plotted all over, with a few people sitting on them, enjoying the warm day. My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking my gaze from the people sitting on the closet bench.