Page 90 of Worth the Wait
Freddie gave a dry laugh. “There’s more.” He tugged off his cap, ran a hand through his hair, then dropped it onto the dash. “We weren’t just best mates. Not towards the end. We were… turning into something else.”
Becca went still. “Boyfriends?”
Freddie snorted. “Not exactly. Not outright.” He screwed his eyes shut. “Fuck, we were teenagers, Becks. Mucking around! Quick handjobs under the pier, sneaking into each other’s rooms when no one was around. But it was… becoming something. Then he found out about Katie. The baby. We had a fight. Fucking brutal and ugly. Heleft. And that was it.” He looked away for a beat, throat working. “Then I saw him in that interview room. And itallcame back.”
Becca stared at him, then slowly exhaled around the revelation, “You still have feelings for him?”
“Yeah.”
“What about him?”
Freddie hung his head, speaking to his chipped nails. “Well… if turning up at mine this morning, slamming me against a wall, tearing my pants off, then jerking us both off so hard I nearly passed out counts for anything, then, yeah. I’d say his feelings are stillveryfucking present.”
“Oh,Freddie…” Becca tilted her neck. “Why the hell didn’t you declare it? You’d have been pulled from the case immediately.”
“Exactly.” Freddie tightened his grip on the wheel, knuckles white. “And now I’ve got to arrest the only man I think I’ve ever actually been in love with.”
Becca turned to him, eyes wide. “Then go back in. Tell Carrick now. You’ve compromised yourself. It’s not too late to step away—”
Freddie let out a bitter laugh. “So I can get pulled, put on enforced leave, flagged with PSD for a potential conflict of interest? So Carrick can stick someone else on it. Someone who doesn’t know Nathan, doesn’t knowAlfie, and won’t think twice about throwing them both under the bus to keep the paperwork clean?” He shook his head. “No. I do this. I see it through. It’s the only way I can protect them. Keep some control over how it plays out.”
Becca looked at him, torn. “You think youcanprotect them like this?”
“I don’t know. But if I walk away now… I definitely can’t.”
“You gonna call and warn him?”
Freddie scoffed at the full reality of the situation. “Can’t. Was too busy sucking the fella off to get his new number.”
* * * *
The last job of Nathan’s day was a knackered old Focus with a whining clutch and a headlight held in place by duct tape and misplaced faith. Ron had buggered off early, muttering something about beans on toast and his weekly Westerns, which left Nathan and Alfie alone in the garage, having picked him up straight from school to bring him here and teach him a trade. A kid with a trade was a kid with a future.
Wind whistled through the roller door, wafting the scent of oil as Alfie leant over the open bonnet. “So it’s the belt?”
Nathan shook his head. “Nope. Listen again. Hear that ticking under the whine? That’s the tensioner.”
Alfie squinted at the engine. “You sure?”
Nathan smirked. “I’m always sure.” He handed Alfie the ratchet, watched him take it with hesitant fingers. “Go on. Loosen that bolt, there. I’ll talk you through it.”
For the next ten minutes, they worked in quiet rhythm with Nathan guiding, Alfie trying, failing, trying again, until the noise was gone, the tensioner adjusted, and the engine hummed like it had half a will to live.
“Nice.” Nathan clapped him on the back. “You’ve got good hands.”
Alfie beamed, trying not to show how much it meant.
They shut the garage up together, the roller door rattling down with a groan and a final thud echoing across the cracked concrete forecourt.Done for the day.ThenNathan drove them home with the windows cracked enough to let in the salt-stung Worthbridge air.
At home, he went straight into the kitchen. To his surprise, Alfie didn’t vanish upstairs. He hovered, lingered, leaning against the doorframe, then eventually drifted in beside him. Maybe it was the lack of his phone, still locked away in Nathan’s toolbox, but Nathan let himself hope it was more than that. Maybe Alfie had seen enough to realise he could stillbea kid. That he didn’t have to carry all the world’s weight just yet.
“You learn to cook in the army too?” Alfie hopped up onto the counter to sit opposite him.
“Nah.” Nathan stirred the bubbling pan of tomato sauce. “Army’s got cooks. Big industrial stuff. Tastes like shit but fills a hole.” He angled his head towards Ron in the next room, already settled in front of the telly. “Learned after my mum died. Someone had to feed the old man. You see the microwave crap he was surviving on before we got here?”
Alfie snorted. “Not sure some of thatwasfood.”
“Exactly.” Nathan smirked. “Now get the plates out.”
