Page 17 of Worth the Wait
Jude hesitated, then blushed a little. “Like I said… you could stay. You’re not on shift tomorrow, are you?”
“No. Off until Thursday then on nights but—”
“Then stay.”
Freddie caught Jude’s gaze, and those muted, sincere hazel eyes behind wire-framed glasses were so open. So hopeful. And he wished—God,he wished—it could be that simple. That he could stay. Eat fajitas, watch crap telly, kiss Jude into the sheets and pretend the world didn’t exist beyond these walls. Jude was a good man. Kind. Funny. Probably hand-delivered by the universe to give Freddie a second chance at something normal.
But Freddie wasn’t stuck in normal.
He was stuck in the past.
He finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and set the tortilla down with more care than it needed. “Actually… I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna have to raincheck. On the quiz. On the bed offer. I’m totally wiped, and if Iamgonna stay here with you, I don’t want it to be when I still smell like a twelve-hour shift and other people’s bad decisions.”
Jude studied him for a moment. He knew. Freddie could see it. Knew there was something unspoken behind the polite decline. But he nodded anyway.
“Sure. I know it was a last-minute ask. No pressure. Thanks for coming over, though. Was nice to see you.” Jude walked Freddie to the door. “We still on for Wednesday?”
Freddie scratched the back of his neck. “Uh… Wednesday…?”
“You’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t—”
“You invited me to come watch your emergency services five-a-side match. Then said we’d check out that new micro pub. With the all-you-can-eat hot wings.”
“Ah. Right. Yeah.”
“You still okay for me to come along?”
“Course. Yeah.” Why couldn’t he shake this?
“Don’t suppose you can pick me up from school? Save me walking. My car’s still in the garage.”
“Yeah.” Freddie nodded. “Alright.”
At the door, they shared a kiss and Jude lingered a second, as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. So Freddie stepped out into the night, slid back into his car, and as he turned the key in the ignition, he muttered under his breath, “For fuck’s sake.”
Nathan Carter was still wrecking his sex life. Fifteen years later.
Still making it impossible to want anyone else.
chapter FOUR
Hard Landing
Nathan shut the door and stood with his back to the wood, letting the cold seep through his T-shirt.
The air inside wasn’t any warmer. Not with the faint trace of stale tobacco and leftover gravy clinging to the wallpaper. He shivered, the kind that worked from the inside out, then pushed forward intothe house.
The living room hadn’t changed. Not in the years he’d been gone. Same cracked leather armchairs. Same floral curtains, yellowed with time. The telly was a boxy relic that took five seconds to switch from one channel to the next, and the mantel still held the same dusty ceramic dog that had sat there since he was a kid. Nothing sentimental. Nothing that spoke of his mum. Only stillness, as if the house had gone into stasis the day she died and no one had dared wake it.
He stepped through the archway into the kitchen at the back, his leg giving him jip now the adrenaline had worn off. His dad stood at the fridge, pulling out a can of supermarket-brand lager.
“You want one?” Ron held the can up as if it was an olive branch. It probably was.
The question was, would Nathan take it?
He shook his head. “Going for a run down the seafront. Grab some chips on the way back.”
