Page 104 of In Too Deep

He had to mean Chris.

And fuck, that hurt. Bitter and immediate, striking every raw nerve Jake had apparently developed where Harrison’s dead husband was concerned.

“I ain’t him.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t fucking sound like it.”

“Jake—”

“No.” Heat surged through him, hurt tangling with anger before he could separate one from the other. “Stop looking at me like you already know how this ends.”

Jake regretted that instantly.

Fuck.

But the hurt was already there, and apparently so was the jealousy. Harrison had spent twenty years loving Chris. Jake had barely got through the fucking door, and already it felt like he was being measured against a man he could never compete with.

Harrison pulled the sunglasses completely off. “I’m not.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m scared, Jake.” Harrison gritted his teeth. “Fucking terrified. Because someone I care about is doing something dangerous, and I know exactly how badly that can end.”

That should have helped.

Someone I care about.

Only this morning, Jake would’ve grabbed onto that with both hands. Right then, they just made everything hurt differently.

Harrison’s throat moved before he slid the sunglasses back into place, shutting himself away again piece by piece. “I need you to do something for me.”

Jake waited for the ‘stay away from me’, or ‘get out of my life’ or any other way Harrison would dig in the knife.

“Don’t mention the tattoo to anyone. Don’t tell anyone you knew about it. Not your family. Not your mates. No one. Please.”

Jake gave a small nod. “Aye.”

Harrison lingered, as if there were still words caught behind his teeth. Something softer, maybe. Belonging to them rather than the investigation, and the lingering ghost of Harrison’s past spread between them.

Then he turned away.

But after two steps, he stopped. “How did you even connect it to Hull?”

Jake scrubbed tiredly at his mouth. “Brodie.”

Harrison’s chest rose with his fierce inhalation, and Jake could almost see the pieces clicking into place behind those dark lenses.

“He’s got one.” Jake rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm. “Same tattoo. Same place.”

Harrison’s mouth tensed, a slight crack in his armour before he locked it down again. Gone almost instantly. But Jake caught it. And Christ, he didn’t need to see Harrison’s eyes for that to hurt. Because suddenly he saw himself through them. Ex-con. Pub fights. One-night stands. Blokes dragged home because they were available and gone before breakfast. The sort of life Harrison had spent months pretending not to judge. That Jake had spent years pretending didn’t bother him. Except Harrison wasn’t supposed to be one of them. And that was the problem.

He wasn’t some stranger whose opinion meant fuck all.

Harrison gave a brief nod before turning away again.

“I didn’t—” Jake called after him, the words catching halfway in his throat.