Still, hearing Freddie say he’d thought of him hit deeper than it should. But too late for it to matter.
He forced a smile. “Never been friends with the heat. Burn to a crisp. Northern, remember?” He let out a laugh, but the second he saw Freddie’s face, he realised what it might have sounded like.
The fire.
Shit.
“I meant the summer,” he added quickly. “Not—well, notthat.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle, which could have been mistaken for a snort. Then composed himself. “Honestly, I’m okay. Had stuff to catch up on. Did a few city trips.” Lie. “Saw some mates.” Bigger lie. “Bit of decorating.” That part at least was true.
Freddie nodded. “Glad you got out and about.”
Jude nodded back, ready to walk away, but something tugged at him. A thread he hadn’t meant to pull. He paused. Turned back.
“And Alfie?” he asked quietly. “How’s he doing?”
Freddie’s face softened. That smile again. Smaller this time. Real.
“He’s… okay.” The pause between words spoke volumes. “Nightmares mostly. Still flinches at sudden noises. Gets tensein crowds. But we’re working through it. Nathan’s doing everything he can. We both are. It’ll help, I think, once we’re all under the same roof.”
“You’re moving in together?”
“Yeah.” Freddie gave a small, hopeful smile. “Found a three-bed semi close to the seafront. Bit of a fixer-upper, but it’s got a garden. Nate wants to plant veg. Y’know, give Alfie a patch to work on. My place sold quicker than expected. We’re waiting on the surveys and hoping we’re in by Christmas.”
Jude nodded, each word pressing on something soft and sore. “I’m happy for you. And I’m glad Alfie’s got you both.”
“He talks about you, you know.” Freddie met his gaze then. Properly. A quiet, unwavering look making Jude feel more seen than he was ready for. “Alfie. Says you saved his life.”
Jude blinked, something catching at the back of his throat. He didn’t know how to hold that kind of praise. He never had.
“I did what any teacher would’ve.”
“That’s not true. All the other teachers left the building. And I know you hate hearing it, but… youarea hero, Jude. Whether you like it or not. Definitely one of the good guys.”
Jude swallowed hard and nodded, afraid his voice might betray him if he spoke too soon. But he eventually pulled himself together.
“Take care of yourself, Freddie. Tell Alfie I’m glad he picked history over geography for his GCSE.” He then slipped past the door and back into the hall, where chatter rose again and coffee cups clinked along the rows of chairs.
Sliding into a seat near the back, he clasped his hands in his lap to still their fidgeting, when the chair beside him scraped back and the new bloke—Mr Bailey, wasn’t it?—settled his bulk into it. Up close, he was broader, heat rolling off him as if he’d carried the gym in with him.
“Thought I’d come shake the hand of the resident hero.” He held out an open palm to Jude.
It took a moment, but eventually Jude accepted it. And he could have drawn in a breath at the size of his hand. Warm, too. With the drag of calluses and faint scars dotted over the back. Sport-born, Jude guessed. Rugby, probably. He had the shoulders for it. And Jude stared at those powerful, broad blades for far too long. So he yanked his gaze up to the man’s eyes instead. Softer than the shoulders. Kinder.
Jesus. Why was he noticing?
Must be Freddie’s fault. Him being here. The first man Jude had tried to date in a long time had cracked something open in him. Some door he’d kept bolted. Now he was noticing men again, leaning into them instead of shying away through fear and survival.
“Not much of a hero.” Jude slipped his hand away to nudge his glasses higher up his nose. “The firefighters and paramedics are the real ones.”
“Room full of people clapping for you says otherwise.”
“They clap at the end-of-year drama performance, too. Trust me, once you’ve seen that, you’ll realise applause means absolutely nothing here.”
Bailey winced. “That bad, huh?”
“I had ringing in my ears for a week after the Year Seven chorus.” Jude shook his head. “In fairness, though, theMamma Miatap routine nearly tipped me into early retirement. The psychological scars are… ongoing.”
Bailey chuckled, then cocked his head. “I hope there’s video evidence. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re a harsh reviewer.”
