His Horizon - Con Riley Page 0,28

bunk Jude just vacated. The lid was askew, the corner of a framed photo visible. “I should have told her right from the start.”

“About you and me?”

“No.” His glance Jude’s way was bleak. “Like I said this morning, there’s hardly anything to tell, is there? We kissed once in London, and once here. For closure,” he added. “That’s it. End of story. But I shouldn’t have let worrying about outing you mean that I ended up back in the closet. Or stuck in a boatshed with you, either.” His huffed laugh didn’t sound happy. “Lou doesn’t deserve lies. Not from a business partner, and not after everything she’s been through. I should have been honest with her, and it’s shitty that I can’t be.”

He turned abruptly, leaving, while all Jude could do was watch him.

By the time Jude dragged on his shoes to follow, Rob had left the boatyard. He wasn’t waiting at the sea wall either. A sole seagull perched there, watching as Jude jogged past, its cries loud and mocking. Inside the pub, all was dead quiet, the kitchen spotless and shining, devoid of the one person he wanted.

And he did want Rob.

Hadn’t ever stopped, despite thousands of nautical miles between them.

Back then, wanting Rob had been an idle wish, a simple case of opposites attracting, a spark of interest that he’d assumed was one-sided right until Rob had kissed him. Maybe all Rob’s talk of first dates meant he’d imagined them leading up to meeting each other’s families, but what Louise had told Rob was the real truth: there was no way in the world that Jude could ever bring home a boyfriend. Even thinking that word seemed wrong here. He let out a deep breath at the thought of bringing Rob home, if things had been different, his exhale a rush of air that again seemed never-ending.

If things had been different was a train of thought that led him nowhere. He went upstairs to his dad’s study where he found Rob standing by the desk. He held a framed graduation photo of Jude that used to have pride of place above it. “You went to catering college in London?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah.”

“You studied there the whole time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t go to a local college first, then top up in London?”

That was a more usual pathway, Jude guessed. “No, I—”

Rob answered for him. “You wanted to get away from here as soon as you could.”

Jude nodded, finally letting out the whole truth. “Yeah. As fast as I could and for as long as I could.”

“Because you weren’t out.”

It was a statement, not a question, but still begged some explanation. Jude crossed the room to another wall still covered in framed photos. He lifted one from its hook. Although faded with age, it could have been taken of him, only it was his dad in the photo. He stood on the deck of a ship, squinting into the sunshine with an arm slung around another sailor’s shoulder.

“Is that your dad?” Rob stood closer. “Wow, you are the spit of him.” His gaze flicked between the photo and Jude. “Right down to the suntan. How old was he in this picture?”

“Then? The same age as me now. He’s in his sixties now.” Jude heard his use of the present tense, unable to make himself correct it.

Rob pointed at a similarly faded snapshot, this time of Porthperrin, the Anchor in the background. “Did he grow up here as well?”

“No. He grew up in the heart of England. The only time he got to see the sea when he was younger was when his family came to Cornwall every summer.”

“Here? He stayed in Porthperrin?”

“Yeah. His family camped here.” Jude was silent for a moment. The loss of the campground was more than geographic. Part of his family’s history had washed away with all that bone-white sand. “It’s where he met Mum. And it’s why he joined the Merchant Navy.”

“How come?”

“He was an engineer. The Merchant Navy paid much better than he could ever earn in one of the local factories, particularly for longer voyages. He said signing a five-year contract was the quickest way to amass the kind of cash they needed if they were ever going to afford a place like this. The bonus at the end would be their down payment.”

“Five years though? Even with shore leave, that’s a long time for newlyweds to be apart.”

“Yeah.” Now that he’d spent time himself so