His own history.
Ironic, really. Wearing chains to remember freedom.
He yanked on his pyjama trousers, dropped the towel, and turned.
Warren hovered near the door as if he didn’t know whether he should step in or turn around, pretending he hadn’t seen a damn thing.
“Thanks for sorting Lily.” Jude reached for his glasses on the desk.
Mistake.
Because now he couldseeWarren’s face properly. Not that Warren was looking at him with disgust. Or pity. Or judgement. More that he was…interested. Intrigued, perhaps. As though he wanted to ask. Mention it. Almost as if he knew the connotations of the ink. What they’d once meant. But he couldn’t. It was just barbed wire and rose thorns. A design. Nothing more.
Even if Jude could still hear the voice behind it.
“You’re mine now, lamb. Forever.”
And no amount of distance, or years, or healing would ever scrub that sentence from his spine.
Not when it was carved in skin.
And seen.
“Yeah.” Warren rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “No worries. Teenagers, eh?” He forced a small laugh. “Oh, for the days when I had girls fighting over me.”
Jude breathed out a humourless laugh, running a hand through his still-damp curls.
“Quiet now.” Warren tilted his head towards the corridor. “Sounds like they’ve either passed out or are faking it with AirPods in.”
“As long as there’s no more fights.”
“Yeah.” Warren lingered a beat longer, then glanced at the bed.
The double bed.
Of course.
Every student room had twins. Standard. But this room, meant for a teacher, hadn’t been part of that configuration. Just a standard hotel double. And Jude, exhausted when he booked the rooms, hadn’t thought it through. All he’d thought about was lying on that bed, sprawled, alone, maybe naked for the first time in weeks. No creaking floorboards. No shadow in the doorway. No fear Callum might come in.
It hadn’t happened. Not yet.
But the expectation was enough. That was the trick of control.
“I’ll take the floor.” Jude reached for one of the pillows.
“No, you won’t.” Warren stepped forward. “Come on. It’s your room. I’ll take the floor.”
Jude looked at him.
Warren looked back.
Neither moved.
As if something unspoken lodged between them, thick and charged and completely out of their control.
Then, quietly, Jude said, “We could share.”
Warren arched a brow. “The floor?”
