Page 81 of Worth the Wait
“Whether we’re heading to the bedroom…” Freddie hesitated, voice dipping a little, “or if you’re here to talk.”
Nathan raked a hand through his hair. “Believe me. I’d love nothing more than to see your bedroom right now. Check if you still have those same posters. Same duvet cover. That little bottle of shit lube in the drawer…but…” He glanced away, guilty. “I kinda came to talk. I gotta be back at the garage before the old man kicks off.”
Freddie snorted. “Nothing’s changed then.”
Nathan met his gaze, letting the seriousness take over. “Some things have.”
The words hit heavier than they should, and Freddie suddenly feltverynaked and not in a good way. So hejerked his thumb towards the open-plan kitchen-living room. “Go sit in there. I’ll grab some pants.”
“Don’t have to on my account.”
“If we’re talking serious shit, like the grownups we’re meant to be now,” Freddie cupped his manhood in both hands, “I’d rather you weren’t staring at my willy.”
Nathan barked a laugh, and it cut through the tension.
Freddie pointed a finger at him, backing towards his room. “Top stays off, though.”
Nathan saluted. “Sir, yes, sir.”
Chapter sixteen
Under Caution
Nathan watched Freddie disappear into the bedroom, gripping his hoodie to hold himself together.
Christ, it was tempting,sofucking tempting, to follow. To drag Freddie down on his bed, lose himself in his heat, his mouth, in therightnessof it. Freddie would let him. Would pull him under, no hesitation.
But real life wasn’t a fantasy. Responsibilities didn’t vanish because he wanted them to. Nathan hadn’t come here to fuck. No matter how badly he wanted to.
That frantic collision at the door had been pure reckless instinct. Years of buried need ripping free the second Freddie opened the door, half-naked, hair a mess, mouth soft with sleep. But now came the hard part. Now he had to face it.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Nathan forced himself to move, stepping into the open-plan living space.
It was… homey.
Small but full of life. Battered sofa separating the kitchen space to the living area, draped in a wild, hand-knitted blanket in clashing shades of green and pink, so ugly it was almost beautiful. Probably one of his mum’s creations. The same mum who’d once tried to launch a side hustle selling bespoke spirit cleansing kits from their front porch. There was even a battered wooden sign on a shelf that read“Positive Vibes Only”in glitter and peeling paint, tucked between potted plants and a leaning stack of true crime novels.
Nathan huffed a breath through his nose. Half a laugh, half a sting.
Freddie didn’t just live here. He’d made it his. Roots dug into the cracked concrete of Worthbridge, stubborn and bright.
Photos lined the walls. Candid, chaotic snapshots of family and stolen moments. Freddie and Piper, arms slung around each other, grinning at a bonfire night. Freddie kneeling with a little girl perched on his knee, her hands squishing his cheeks into a ridiculous grin. Freddie holding a newborn baby, gazing down at it with all the pride of a doting uncle.
Nathan’s stomach twisted.
Not because of the baby picture, or knowing how Freddie had a real family, but because tucked behind it, near the back, less staged or easy to look at, was a different photo. An old, sun-faded selfie from 2008, snapped on a chunky silver camera, one Nathan remembered Freddie having to twist his wrist to get in frame. They were eighteen, flushed and windswept under the pier. Nathan’s T-shirt was soaked from the sea, Freddie’s mound of dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and their cheeks werepressed close, almost touching. Neither of them looked at the lens. They were too busy looking at each other.
And even then, the moment was written all over their faces. Not posed. Not polished.Real.
Nathan hated himself a little more then. For being the one who’d walked away from that. Who’d let fifteen years rot between them.
Guilt lodged heavy and sour in his chest.
So he glanced at the other frames lining the wall, but it didn’t help, because there were other memories he hadn’t been part of. A formal portrait. Freddie in full police dress uniform, standing stiff and proud at what must’ve been his passing out parade. The smile he wore in the picture was tight but bright, the badge gleaming on his chest, hair cut short, posture ramrod straight.
Nathan swallowed hard.
He hadn’t known.
