↳ excerpt ; ( coming soon )
Darcie Tartt didn’t meet her brother until he was nearly ten and she was three. She didn’t particularly remember the occasion, but she did remember his annoyance with her. If he was to be believed (and he usually wasn’t), she was a bratty little toddler who followed him everywhere and anywhere he went.
Jamie was only really getting good at football back then, being scouted by major teams and the like. Their dad dragged little Darcie to every pitch in North Manchester just to watch him play, no matter the weather, no matter the team. There, Dad bragged to all his mates every time Jamie scored a goal, made a good play, dominated the field.
Football was the bridge that connected her to her brother, and Darcie was determined to love it. However, her sisterly duty could only sustain her so long. Which usually amounted to ten minutes, and then she was thirsty, and then hungry, and then bored, and then cold. But their father ignored her for all of it because his boy was playing.
His boy, Jamie, the superstar.
At first, little Darcie was obsessed with Jamie, with the idea of a big brother who might one day be famous. She wanted to talk about him, she wanted to be around him, she wanted to be him.
The feeling definitely wasn’t mutual.
The moment he met her, Jamie already knew he didn’t want a sister, even though he also knew he had no choice in the matter. Under James Senior’s piercing stare, the only thing he could do was absorb what he’d been told and nod in faux interest. It was all he could do to not scowl at the little brunette blinking owlishly up at him. As soon as they were alone, he snapped at her to stop staring at him like that.
Darcie just kept staring at Jamie with big, innocent, trusting brown eyes. She was a little thing, tiny and fragile—looking, with frizzy light brown hair which fell haphazardly all over her face. She was small, she was messy, and Jamie didn’t want a small and messy little sister.
He wanted a father. He didn’t know a sister had to come with it.