Page 39 of Blown

“You’re so much more to me than that, Rafe, whether you let me say it or not,” Jake shouted back.

They were starting to gain an audience as passersby lingered to watch their argument. Rafe hated it. He longed for attention sometimes, but that was definitely not the right kind.

“How can I mean more to you?” he demanded, lowering his voice. “The only person Jake Mathers cares about is himself.”

“That’s not true,” Jake seethed in return, desperation lighting his eyes. “My whole life has been one long fuck-up, but coming here is the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Rafe. I don’t have to lie about that, it’s true. And you know what else is true, whether you want to hear it or not? I love you.” He threw his arms out to the side. “There. I’ve said it. Now what are you going to do about it?”

Rafe’s anger flared and twisted to something more. His heart and his body burned for Jake. He was almost irresistible when he was laid as bare as he was just then. Rafe didn’t know if he wanted to slap sense into the man or push him up against the wall and kiss him until they were arrested for indecency.

He wasn’t ready for either of those things. He was too raw and hurt. His head was spinning, and he knew there was no way he could make any sort of rational decision until he had time to breathe and cool down.

So he did the only thing he could think to do, he turned and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Jake called after him, lunging to grab Rafe’s sleeve.

Rafe shook him off. “Home,” he said, walking on.

“But we’re not done here,” Jake called out. “We’re definitely not done.”

“We are for now,” Rafe said, then held up his middle finger as he walked away.

Three seconds later, he felt terrible for the childish gesture. He didn’t feel bad for walking away, though. Nothing good would have come from him staying there and continuing the argument in public. Jake was right that they had more to say, but he needed time to sort his feelings and to decide what he really wanted before they got into it.

He walked around London for a bit, fighting to steady his breathing and put himself in the right frame of mind, before returning to the garage where he’d parked his car. The drive home was uncomfortable. He didn’t much care for driving at night anyhow, and the anger that still had his heart pounding and his skin heating made him clench his hands on the wheel and pray he didn’t get into an accident.

It was a relief to finally make it to the relative calm of Hawthorne House an hour later. All he wanted to do was head up to his flat, strip out of his sweaty clothes, take a shower, and go to bed. But of course he ran into his dad on the way up the stairs.

“You look like you’ve had a wild night,” his dad said with a smile as they fell into step as they went upstairs.

Rafe huffed a humorless laugh. “You could say that,” he said.

His dad stopped when they got to the first floor. “What happened?” he asked, full of paternal concern.

“Jake showed his true colors,” he said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“In what way?” His dad crossed his arms and stroked his long beard, looking like some sort of contemplative wizard.

Rafe didn’t want a father-son heart-to-heart just then. “What are you doing up so late, Dad? It’s past one.”

“Your mum and I were at Trudy and Leonard’s place for naked whist this evening,” he said, as if that was the most ordinary thing in the world. “And now, back to you. What is going on?”

Rafe blew out a breath and shifted to lean against the wall. He should have known better than to try to deflect his dad’s questions.

“The big promise Jake made me in return for marrying me for a visa was to introduce me to world-renowned glass artist Hélène Rénard and to get me an internship with her,” he said.

“Yes, I’ve heard of her,” his dad said.

“Well, we ran into her in London tonight, and it turns out Jake doesn’t know her at all,” Rafe said with a sneer. “Jake zeroed in on the one thing he knew I wanted and lied to me, manipulated me, by promising that to me when he knew it was impossible.”

Rafe didn’t exactly expect his dad to share his anger. He couldn’t remember very many times when his dad had been angry. But he didn’t expect him to shrug and say, “Did you actually think Jake had the power to convince a world-renowned glass artist to take you under her wing in the first place?”

Rafe blinked. Had be believed Jake could do that? Honestly?

He shook his head and sank farther against the wall. “That’s not the point, Dad. He knew exactly how to manipulate me and he did. And I thought we had something?—”

He stopped before he said too much. Knowing his dad, he’d passed that “too much” point the moment he said hello.

His dad nodded and leaned against the opposite wall in imitation of him. “So you’re angry with Jake for lying, when he’s already told you he has a problem with lying, because he told you something improbable that you believed. And why did you believe such an outlandish claim to begin with?”

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