His Horizon - Con Riley Page 0,35

I didn’t notice?” He swallowed before saying, “Turns out that quietly hard-to-get is my type.” That was an admission Jude hadn’t expected. “You avoided me if you could. And if your dad did the same thing to anyone he thought might be gay, all that tells me is that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Maybe both of you bottle stuff up instead of sharing.” His next smile was small. “So you’re right in one way.”

“How?” Jude asked, his voice gravelly, Rob so close they could have kissed.

Rob whispered, “I didn’t know him, but if he’s anything like Lou, he’d want you to be happy.” He closed the final fraction of distance, lips brushing Jude’s so softly, at first, Jude couldn’t keep from leaning forward. They connected then, mouths slotting together as close as their knees under the table, real and firm and grounding.

This wasn’t the fierce goodbye kiss Rob had given him in the kitchen, or the soft consolation in his father’s study.

It touched so much deeper.

Rob’s mouth moved on his, so warm after Lou’s look had left Jude frozen, giving, now Jude needed to take, slow, in case anything faster might spin Jude’s world off its axis. Rob cupped his face once more, holding Jude still and steady. He gradually pulled back, only a few inches between them, so Jude heard his conviction. “I promise that they’d both hate for you to be unhappy, like this.”

Jude couldn’t listen to that, couldn’t absorb everything Rob had suggested about mistaking reactions that he’d witnessed. Nothing made sense, apart from how good it felt to embrace Rob fully, no need to hide while the pub was empty. He kissed Rob, his mouth open, tongues making electric contact and sliding. He also slid his palms up Rob’s thighs to get closer as he leaned in, brushing a thumb where Rob hardened for him.

Maybe Jude looked as dazed as he felt when Rob eventually withdrew. Rob kissed him once more, fleeting this time on his lips, his next to Jude’s forehead slower and reassuring. He said, “If I thought fucking you would make any of this better, you know I wouldn’t take much persuading, don’t you?”

Sex sounded like a perfect answer to Jude right then. A way out of his head for a while, at least.

Rob didn’t give him time to say so. He kissed him one last time instead. “You’ve no idea of the number of times I’ve thought about it. Only with everything you’ve told me, I’m not sure you’d thank me tomorrow. You need to get your head straight, so stay here, tonight, will you? Sleep in Lou’s room. Things will look better in the morning.”

Then he went, leaving Jude still heartsore, but hopeful.

12

Jude woke the next morning to the shush of the high tide against the sea wall, no footsteps or pots clanking below to suggest Rob was downstairs, or chatter meaning Lou had returned. Jude got up from the trundle, trying hard not to let his gaze land on the still-neat covers of Lou’s bed, holding on, as he had so many times that night while waking, to the idea that maybe Rob was right and she would still want to see him. He paused, before unclipping his keyring from yesterday’s clothes and seeking some clean ones. But what about his dad? Could Rob be right about a man he’d never met but who Jude had grown up with?

Would he ever have been accepting?

No. There was no proof to support that line of thinking.

The idea of a happy ending was fictional, like all those desert island storybooks piled up down at the boatshed, where rescue came in the nick of time, and shipwrecked families always reunited.

That thought at least made him stand a little straighter as he showered. He hadn’t been able to make a storybook ending come true, but he’d be damned if he’d let Louise’s discovery of his secret carry her away from him like a typhoon had their parents. He’d take whatever she threw at him; do his best to weather the storm until she spoke to him again.

Once dressed and full of resolve, he hurried downstairs where he found a note in the kitchen with Morning, sleepyhead as a salutation, certainty ebbing as he read.

Left for Marc’s place to see Lou at eight. Give me an hour before you come along too, okay? If you haven’t heard ambulance sirens by then, she probably hasn’t killed me.

He read the rest through twice more