Page 16 of Worth the Wait
It felt like a place waiting for someone to make it a home.
Freddie hadn’t been inside before. Until now, their kisses had ended on the doorstep. But here he was, toeing off his boots, trying not to seem too distracted. Trying not to letNathan fucking Carterfill up all the space in his head.
It was impossible. Nathan was there anyway. In the air. In his lungs.
Always had been.
“If you want to shower, you can,” Jude called over his shoulder as he moved through to the kitchen. “I’ll plate up. Got some salad stuff too. Might even throw in a tomato or two if you’re lucky.”
Freddie followed him in, dragging his feet more than he meant to, not quite ready to strip off and stand exposed under someone else’s water. The kitchen was clean and warm, smelling of cumin and sizzling peppers, with dim light spilling from under the cabinets. He leant against the breakfast bar, tracing idle lines along the wood grain with his fingers as Jude stirred a colourful mess in the frying pan.
Jude frowned. “Shitty shift, huh?”
Freddie scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah.”
“How come?”
The question hung in the air, gentle but open, as if Jude actually wanted to hear the answer.
Freddie looked down at his hands. Words piled up in his throat, hot and useless. How was he supposed to explain it? That the boy he’d arrested earlier that day had a last name that cracked open something long buried. And how his father—Nathan fucking Carter—had walked back into his life like a ghost dressed in real skin. That he’d seen him,reallyseen him, for the first time in fifteen years and suddenly Freddie didn’t know who he was anymore.
How did he say that?
How did he tell Jude that the man he’d once loved, the man who’d left him behind in a tangle of loyalty and stupidity, was back in town… and Freddie couldn’t stop the memories tripping over themselves. That he felt like a liar standing in Jude’s kitchen. That he wasn’t sure if he was here because he wanted to be or because he was trying not to feel everything Nathan had made resurface.
“Picked up a fourteen-year-old today.”Stick to the basics. Stick to the script.“Assault charge. Possible drugs involved.”
Jude winced as he flipped the tortillas onto a plate. “Christ. Fourteen?”
“Yeah. They’re getting younger. What happened to pissing about on the PlayStation?”
Jude shot him a look over his shoulder. “Some don’t have that luxury.”
“Yeah. S’pose. Can’t you lot teach them some manners, at least?”
“By ‘you lot,’ I’m guessing you mean teachers?” Jude rolled his eyes. “It’s always our fault, right? When more often than not, it’s the parents.”
Freddie swallowed at that. He knew Alfie Carter’s parents.
Well,oneof them. The other... not so much. He’d known her once, back in the day, when they all still orbited the same grimy pubs and half-lit house parties. But after she’d disappeared off the map, he’d never asked. Never wanted to. Not properly. Not when the answer might’ve been that Nathan had stayed with her. Married her. Built a life with her that didn’t include him.
“Believe it or not, we dotryto make up the shortfall of what’s happening at home,” Jude said, oblivious to where Freddie’s mind was right then. Which was asking himself a fuck ton of questions about two people he’d not seen in years. Katie Brewer and Nathan Carter. “But the curriculum says I’ve got to cram in two world wars, a few revolutions, and the Industrial Age before lunch. Not much room left to teach them how to dodge peer pressure and keep their noses clean after that. We hope they pick up the warning signs by studying the mess we’ve already made.”
Freddie allowed a small smile. “Shame. Thatshouldbe on the curriculum.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Jude said with a grin. “I’d have them writing essays on the socioeconomic downfall of the British teenager by Thursday.”
Freddie snorted. “Whatever it takes to keep them off the streets and out of my cuffs, away from choices that’ll screw up the rest of their lives.”
Jude pointed the wooden spoon at him. “You care about them.”
Freddie bit his lip. “Don’t tell anyone, yeah? Ruin my cred.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Jude passed him a warm tortilla and a plate. “Come on, dig in. We’ll eat in here.”
Freddie took a spot at the breakfast bar, wrapped a fajita, and bit in as if he hadn’t eaten all day. Which herealised right then, he probably hadn’t. Jude handed him a cold beer from the fridge.
Freddie shook his head. “Better not. Got the car.”
