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Jake Whitton and sensible decision-making had never exactly been close friends.
But something in Harrison’s expression softened, anyway. “Good.”
For a moment he stood there, studying Jake as though committing the sight of him to memory. Then reality seemed to reassert itself.
“I’ve sent Murray to your parents’ house. Teddy was already half convinced you’d been murdered, so I thought it best someone reassure them before the rumours start.” Harrison glanced towards the ambulance doors. “There’ll be a uniformed officer accompanying you to hospital. They’ll take an initial statement once you’ve been checked over and I’ll come by as soon as I can.”
Jake groaned. “Fantastic. Near-death experience followed by paperwork.”
“Welcome to policing.”
Jake huffed a laugh.
“The good news is your family will almost certainly beat you there.”
“Oh, brilliant.”
Harrison slid his fingers through the mass of Jake’s curls, carefully combing them back from his face. Then he gathered the hair at the nape of Jake’s neck, gripping tightly. It should have felt possessive. Probably looked it. But there was nothing rough about it. Because he used that hair to tilt Jake’s head upward until their eyes met. He then kissed him. Soft and gentle.
“I’m going to be tied up here for a while.” His lips brushed Jake’s. “CSI will want another walk-through. Roman’s disappeared. Levenson lied for him. The chief is demanding answers, and I’ve got statements, scene preservation, warrants, and approximately a thousand forms with my name on them. Not to mention interviews and questioning.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
A proper smile appeared then. “You’ve been rescued from a ceiling and you’re still impossible.”
“It’s one of my better qualities.”
“Being rescued?”
“Could get used to it.”
“Please don’t.” Harrison then gripped the side of Jake’s neck. “When I’m done, we’ll have a proper date.”
Jake arched an eyebrow. “A proper date, huh?”
“A proper date.”
“An overnight one?”
Harrison laughed softly. “I’ll pack my toothbrush.”
“There we go. Romance int dead after all.” He then grinned so hard it triggered another coughing fit.
“Jesus.” Harrison reached for the oxygen mask and fitted it back over Jake’s mouth and nose. “Thirty-one years old and entirely incapable of looking after yourself.”
The radio clipped to Harrison’s belt crackled, and the moment shattered.
Jake watched DI Black return in real time. His shoulders straightened. His focus sharpened. The softness retreated behind professionalism and responsibility. The copper mask slid back into place. But he gave Jake’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it and stepping down from the ambulance, letting the noise of the investigation flood back in. Blue lights flashed across Harrison’s face. An officer immediately intercepted him with a question. Another appeared, carrying a notebook.
Within seconds, he was moving again.
Giving instructions.
Making decisions.
Taking control.
Yet before he disappeared back into the organised chaos, he glanced over his shoulder. And despite everything waiting for him out there, he smiled.
