Jude stared at it, every warning in his head screaming. He knew Warren was keeping something from him. He felt it in his bones. But the warmth in that hand and the promise in it pulled harder than fear.
So he took it.
And Warren guided him down the short hall, his palm locked in Jude’s, fingers laced. Upstairs, he lay beside him fully clothed, pulling the covers over them both. No questions. No demands. Just the solid weight of his arm settling across Jude’s middle, a silent vow that the world outside could wait.
And though Jude knew Warren was hiding something, he let himself believe in the safety of that hold.
If only for tonight.
Chapter nineteen
Breaking Bad
The alarm split the quiet, dragging Warren up out of the kind of sleep he rarely got anymore. Heavy. Unbroken. Too warm for a man who should’ve been on edge.
He reached over Jude to silence the shrill, his arm grazing soft curls, then rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Reality came back fast. Cold and sharp. Yesterday’s confessions weren’t some fever dream. They’d happened. He’d let them happen. And now the day waited for him like an interrogation room.
Jude had a job to get to. Warren had two. One, the cover he’d been building brick by brick: Mr Bailey, PE teacher, reliable, dependable. And the other, therealone, where he’d have to call in last night, spin it carefully, and hope his voice didn’t betray how much of himself he’d already handed over. Patel was expecting his early check-in.
Mess didn’t begin to cover it.
But he’d sort it. He had to. For Jude’s sake as much as his own.
A rustle beside him, and Jude rolled over, squinting without his glasses. Didn’t matter. He didn’t need to see Warren clearly to cut him open. Those eyes searched him for answers Warren couldn’t afford to give. Checking. Testing. Was this still real, or had Warren pulled a vanishing act in the night?
Warren forced a smile, reached up to stroke the curls away from Jude’s forehead. “God, you’re cute.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. That washimtalking. The real Warren. Not Bailey. Not the officer. Just a man who wanted someone to see him and still stay.
Jesus. He was so far gone he might as well slap the cuffs on himself.
Then Jude smiled, and dimples softened the scars life had etched into him, and those red cheeks…Yeah. Worth the jail time.So he rolled back onto his side, closing the distance, and kissed him. Quick. Testing. Making sure last night hadn’t been some glitch in his imagination. Seeing if the spark still lived when daylight crept in and the job loomed.
Jude kissed him back. Light. Careful. And it scrambled Warren’s head in all the ways nothing else ever had. He should’ve felt panic. Been strategising the exit route, the report he’d file, the distance he had to keep.
Instead, all he could think was that he didn’t want to pull away.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The alarm shrilled again, and Warren refused to remove his mouth from Jude’s as he reached over him and slammed his hand down on it.
“Time for school.” Jude gave a tentative smile against Warren’s lips, as if he knew getting back to normality after last night would be another hurdle to overcome.
“Yeah.” Warren pushed upright. “How about you take a shower first. I’ll get coffee going. Then I’ll drive us both in.”
“You want the others to talk?”
“Surely teachers car share.”
Jude stood, stretching, and Warren’s gaze slipped before he could stop it. That body—graceful, every line threaded with quiet strength—was a beauty he hadn’t braced himself for. And when his T-shirt lifted, exposing a strip of skin and the dark curve of ink disappearing into his waistband, Warren’s chest tightened. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to worship the sight, let himself fall for it…or hate it for the past etched into Jude’s skin, for everything it dragged back with it. All the things Jude should never have endured.
A man so undeserving of scars that deep.
“I’ve got spare clothes in my car,” Jude said, glancing back over his shoulder and catching Warren staring.
Heat slammed through him and Warren dragged his gaze up too fast, the spin of it leaving him unsteady. Every confession Jude had given him last night only fed the ache to keep him safe, to hold him close, to never let go.
Yet it was too much. Too fast.
