Wayward Son (Jensen Family #3) Read online

  Over the next few months, Paul found that keeping his son occupied, even with relatively menial tasks had the effect of evening out his temper although he did still have flare ups and his room would take a battering as a result. In the public eye, Gavin was unfailingly polite and amiable.

  Paul was determined to get through to the boy and absolutely refused to allow the moody teenager to affect his relationship with his wife. He was stunned in to silence when Michael stepped into his role as a Grandfather and struck up a good relationship with Gavin. Despite his misgivings and his own animosity, he allowed it to happen. Michael would give Gavin some insight good or bad as to what life with him is like.

  Well aware that he had a formidable temper of his own, Paul kept a tight rein on it and was successful most of the time. When Gavin’s counsellor advised him that all his son really wanted to do was return to school and find a job, Paul felt a surge of relief. This dissipated quickly when the boys’ anger management counsellor said that she felt Gavin was telling her what he thought she needed to hear and unless he opened up and confronted his issues, she would be unable to help him further.

  He made the mistake of calling his son instead of waiting until he got home to address the issues the anger management counsellor had raised. Gavin’s grunted responses didn’t give him much hope for a peaceful evening. This was proven right when he returned home to find Suzanne sitting with her leg propped up, a blood soaked dressing on her calf.

  Dropping to his knees and taking her leg in his hands, he peeled away the dressing while asking what happened. His mood did not improve when he learned that she had been the victim of a projectile being thrown from Gavin’s room.

  Scooping her into his arms, heading for the front door, he paused when his son came down the stairs. “I’m taking Suzanne to hospital, her leg looks like it’s going to need stitches.” He barely managed to keep a civil tone.

  “I’m sorry..” Gavin started towards them but stopped when Paul growled.

  “Stay where you are.”

  Stroking her husband’s cheek, Suzanne tried to calm him. “It’s not his fault Paul, it was an accident.”

  He said nothing further, just strode from the house and carefully placed her in his latest acquisition, a beautiful black Jaguar.

  Standing on the staircase, both hands in his hair, Gavin was filled with despair. He had lost it big time after his conversation with Paul earlier. This time his furniture took a hit. He’d thrown the heavy coffee table that had taken two people to carry upon its installation. It had shattered against his open door frame, pieces flying everywhere, himself being the victim of a few shards. He’d heard Suzanne’s gasp from the hall but she’d told him everything was ok and then asked him to clear up the mess before Paul came home. For the second time now, he was having to face the consequences of his actions.

  He was immobile for quite some time before forcing his leaden like limbs into action. Running to the garage, he dragged out his push bike and made his way down the hill to the hospital. Getting back up it was going to be a bitch. He needed to apologise and if that also meant facing his father’s wrath then so be it.

  Paul was filling out paperwork while Suzanne sat on a gurney talking to a nurse. Bypassing Paul, Gavin went straight to Suzanne when the nurse walked away.

  “I’m so sorry.” He blurted. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  Taking his hand, Suzanne smiled up at him. “It’s ok Gavin, I know you didn’t do it deliberately.”

  Paul turned when he heard his sons’ voice. Right now he’d happily strangle the little shit, he was seething but trying to keep a lid on it. As always, his beautiful, forgiving wife was smoothing over the situation.

  “I think you should wait outside.” Was all he managed to say as he approached.

  Dropping Suzanne’s hand and feeling her grasp it again, he faced his father. “Dad. It was an accident, I swear. I didn’t know she was in the hall. I hate any sort of violence towards women. I would never deliberately hurt a woman.”

  Moving around his son, Paul placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “They want to x-ray your leg to make sure there’s nothing in the wound then they’ll stitch you up. Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minute.” Turning back to his son, “come on.” He walked away, expecting his son to follow. When he stopped at the door and turned back to see the boy hesitating, his temper ratcheted up a notch or two. “Gavin.”

  Once outside, around the corner from where the smokers were getting their fix, he confronted his son. “Tell me exactly what the hell happened.”

  “I just lost it. I threw the table at the wall, missed. It hit the door frame and just shattered. Pieces of it flew everywhere.” He held out his arms to prove his words were correct as they displayed the small gashes caused by flying bits of wood. “Of course, if she hadn’t been hovering in the hallway, she wouldn’t have got hit.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud and wasn’t entirely surprised when Paul’s hand wrapped in the front of his shirt and he found himself being pushed backwards. His breath whooshed from his lungs as he was forced up against a wall.

  Paul opened his mouth to speak then stopped as he realised what he’d just done. Shit. “You aren’t going to do this to me. I won’t let you turn me in to him.” He spoke quietly, eyes full of regret as he looked his son in the eye. “Go home Gavin. We’ll talk when we get back.” He released his son’s shirt and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry dad. I never meant to hurt her.”

  “I know. Go home.”

  Although tired and quite sore, Suzanne decided it would be best if she refereed the conversation between Paul and Gavin later that evening. She had to hand it to the younger Jensen, he was sincerely contrite and promised to try harder at keeping a lid on his temper. He also agreed to extensive anger management counselling which would require him staying in a group home for a few weekends.

  Agreeing that he thought some space would be good, Gavin hid his dismay. He wasn’t sure separation from Paul would be a good thing. They were beginning to communicate and although he hadn’t admitted it, he loved the man. Paul had shocked him when he’d pushed him back against the wall but he hadn’t been afraid. Even if Paul had struck him which Gavin believed was something he would never do, he knew with pain came anger and he would have reacted. Maybe he should focus on working on that.

  Regardless of having to spend weekends away, things were looking up. He had been accepted, albeit under strict guidelines, into the college of Paul’s choice and he had a part time job at the local leisure centre. He was surprised that he’d gotten the job given his propensity for violence but the manager had said she’d give him a go. He was currently having training and loving every second of it.

  He found his calmer demeanour did him lots of favours. Life at home was becoming more settled and he enjoyed the easy banter Paul shared with Suzanne. He was beginning to see that the relationship between his parents had never been as good as the one Paul shared with Suzanne and silently vowed to keep more of an open mind the next time the subject was raised.

  The damage to his room had been repaired on one weekend when he was in the group home and although he’d withdrawn some money from his bank account and handed it to his father to pay for the furniture he’d smashed, he soon realised on checking the balance that the money had been returned to his account.

  He’d talked about his mother extensively in his group sessions. Strange how easy it was to open up to a group of complete strangers. It had helped but it also served to deepen the pit inside him as talking about her only made him miss her more.

  Slowly, thanks to his new job, he was beginning to make friends. He found Paul was incredibly flexible when it came to things like having friends over and the latest time to be home. He was far more lenient than Carmen had been. Gavin appreciated his, you have a phone, keep in touch with me ethic and discovered if he checked in with Paul regularly, he could more or less stay out as late as he liked.

  As the star
t of the new school term drew nearer, there was talk of getting Gavin a car. The college wasn’t an easy walk from the house and the busses were notoriously unreliable. Paul had started to look for something suitable for his son. They had finally hit common ground and spent hours discussing cars.

  “Have you found anything?” Paul leant over Gavin’s shoulder as the boy trawled through car sites on the internet.

  “Not yet. I know what I want but haven’t found the right variant yet.”

  Pulling up another desk chair, Paul sat beside him, watching his son flick between websites. Clearing his throat, he slid a cheque onto the keyboard. “Gavin, this is the money from the sale of the house. Your mother wanted you to have it. You can spend it or if you want or I can put it in a high interest account for a rainy day.”

  Running a finger over the cheque, wow that was a lot of money, Gavin felt a deep pang of grief. God he missed his mother. “How come I get it?” He asked.

  “It’s what was specified in the will and it’s not like I need the money. Even if it had been left to me, I would have given it to you. It’s her legacy and it’s right that you should have it.”

  Nodding, understanding the enormity of the cheque in front of him, he picked it up and studied it. “Dad. I know you said you would buy me a car but would it be ok if I used this to buy it myself? It’ll sort of be like a birthday present from mum if I use this.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “Good. In that case. I know what I want, though I doubt you’ll approve.”

  Smiling at his sons’ choice of words, he gestured to the computer screen. “Show me.”

  It took Gavin a few minutes but he soon found the car he wanted. “Toyota Supra. Three litre turbo. This is my dream car. With this money I can get a wrecker and have it rebuilt from the chassis up to my specification. I don’t ever intend to sell it. This is my car.”

  Looking at the heap on the screen, Paul was dubious but it was Gavin’s money. “I hear what you are saying but I don’t think that’s a suitable first car. That’s a lot of power and rear wheel drive.”

  “I’ll handle it dad.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. I will let you have this car providing you take lessons on how to handle it properly. I’ll arrange and pay for them and if the instructor says that he feels you can’t cope with the power, you choose a different car.”

  “Ok. Deal.” Gavin grinned. “Can we go and look at this anyway?”

  Gavin proved himself worthy. His instructor was mightily impressed and Paul signed off on his car. He’d given Gavin the number of the man he trusted to detail and beautify his cars and Gavin was in constant contact.

  The day he turned eighteen rolled around. He woke thinking he should feel different. He could now legally vote and drink although he’d been doing the latter for some time already. Usually his mother would rush into his room on his birthday and bounce on the bed, waking him with presents. He missed that now more than ever and wondered how he’d ever found it annoying. He was just about dressed when Paul knocked on his door, asking him to come downstairs.

  That simple request filled him with dread as it usually meant he’d done something wrong. Today was different. Today he knew it was because it was his birthday and he was curious to see if Paul and Suzanne knew him well enough to buy him a present he’d like. He had hoped to have his car by now but he’d run out of money. His modifications costing far more than he’d planned and the project had stalled.

  There was a large birthday cake sitting on the table, candles burning brightly. Suzanne had made it yesterday and although she’d hidden the cake, she hadn’t been able to hide the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the kitchen. He smiled and blew out the candles, thanking her. She handed him a smallish wrapped gift. Opening it revealed a pair of mirrored Ray Ban Aviator sunglasses which she explained she thought would look good when he finally got his car.

  She was almost vibrating with excitement and he couldn’t work out why but he thanked her and asked where his father was hiding. His curiosity peaked when she told him to go out to the front garden to find him. Opening the front door. Gavin came to an abrupt halt. That was his car.

  Paul beckoned him forward as he handed a clip board back to the driver of the transporter. “You came out quicker than I expected. I have a bow and everything to put on it yet. You could pretend you haven’t seen it I suppose.” He grinned.

  “It’s kinda hard to miss.” Gavin replied, he was sure the stupidest grin from here until the end of time was plastered across his face. “But how? I don’t understand. I ran out of money.”

  “I know. I couldn’t stand by and watch you pine and with what you earn at the leisure centre, it will have rotted to nothing before you had the time to save enough money to get it on the road. I put in the rest of the money, taxed and insured it. My gift to you. Happy birthday son.” Paul held out the keys to the car. “Take the keys Gavin. Like you said, this is the gift your mother would have wanted you to have. Enjoy it.”

  Chapter 3

  Gavin walked into his new form room and removed his headphones; he acknowledged his tutor as he was told to find a seat then turned to face the room. He was confronted by three rows of long tables with two stools at each table. As far as he could see, there were two free seats, one at the back on the right hand side of the room, next to the window, the other on the middle table of the next row by a girl wearing an Aerosmith t-shirt, her long black hair hanging over her shoulder, doodling on a pad. She put her pen down and looked up at him as he stopped by her table.

  “This seat is taken,” she said before he had the chance to sit down.

  “By the invisible man?” was the reply.

  “Huh, another smart arse,” she huffed not quite under her breath.

  “Sorry, can I just squeeze by?” another female voice, Gavin turned to see a curvy brunette trying to get by him. “Hey Angel, you ok?” she said as she plonked herself into the seat .

  “I’m good.” Angel smiled at her friend, and then looked back at Gavin. “There’s a seat over there,” she jerked her thumb towards the back of the room.

  “Thanks,” he turned towards the back of the class.

  “God, I’m rude, hi, I’m Kiera,” she smiled.

  “Gavin,” he returned the smile, taking in her curves.

  “Cool t-shirt,” she answered gesturing to his faded Bauhaus shirt.

  “Thanks, I’d better get to my seat, maybe catch you later?”

  “Sure,” Kiera replied then leaned close to Angel. “He’s hot.”

  “Uhuh, if you say so,” Angel fell silent as the tutor began to talk.

  The morning seemed to fly; it seemed that no sooner had he settled into a seat that he was moving to another classroom, he was finding his way around easier than expected thanks partly to the map the Dean had given him but mainly because the new kid factor made him centre of attention and he pretty much had a guided tour of the entire campus between lessons.

  Finally lunchtime arrived; he was starving having skipped out of the house without eating that morning. He had every intention of grabbing something to eat then finding a quiet corner, turning on his iPod and tuning out the noise of the cafeteria. Kiera caught up with him in the queue. The way she asked questions about his day so far was sweet, she invited him to sit with her and her friends, pointing to a table in the middle of the dining hall with a mixed bunch of boys and girls laughing and comparing notes on lectures, he decided to take her up on her offer feeling that perhaps this would be a good way to make new friends and maybe get in with what he presumed was the “in crowd.”

  As it turned out, he quite enjoyed himself with this group of young people, they were all fairly laid back and liked the same kind of music he did and also, like him, they hadn’t bought into the whole everything had to be designer lifestyle that came hand in hand with being at this exclusive private sixth form college.

  “Bauhaus?” Angel looked up from her book, “Do you actually know who
they are or are you just wearing the shirt to be fashionable?”

  Gavin slid shut his mobile phone, looked at her, and deciding actions speak louder than words, reached into his leather jacket, pulled his iPod out and slid it across the table towards her.

  “Why don’t you judge for yourself?” he asked.

  Angel lifted the MP3 player and began to scroll through the menu for what felt like ages, the boy had almost filled the 32gb of memory with some excellent tunes. She chuckled as she hit a group of songs.

  “What?” Gavin asked.

  “Johnny Cash?”

  “Hell yeah, everyone should have a bit of Johnny Cash don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I’m impressed, you know your music.” She handed back his iPod, Gavin grinned, he already liked this girl, her stand offish attitude towards him just made him try harder to get her attention.

  “Hey Babe,” a tall blonde haired boy slid into the seat beside Angel, put his arm around her shoulder and moved in to kiss her, Angel leaned into his side.

  “Hi, where have you been? Quinn, this is Gavin, Gavin meet Quinn, Captain of the Rugby team, all round sports man and, I have to say, pretty much the most popular boy in college.” She told Gavin with more than a hint of gloating.

  The two boys regarded each other across the table, from Quinn’s point of view, everything about the new kid screamed RIVAL, he recognised that Gavin’s athletic build, tall, broad shouldered frame and shoulder length mid brown hair would attract the attention of almost every girl here, couple this with the casually scruffy but undoubtedly clean appearance which would fit him in nicely with Kiera and Angel’s crowd of mildly wealthy youths as opposed to the overtly privileged group he himself usually ran with, what puzzled him was the Patek Phillippe Chronograph watch strapped to Gavin’s left wrist as at first glance, the faded t-shirt, ripped jeans, dirty Converse trainers and battered leather jacket put him firmly in this lesser group but that watch, Quinn mused, must be worth at least £8000, that watch put Gavin in the obscenely wealthy class and Quinn didn’t appreciate his presence here.