Page 87 of In Too Deep

Turned.

Met Harrison’s gaze properly for the first time since waking him. And Christ, he looked destroyed. Exhaustion hollowed out his eyes. His tie hung loose, rain still catching silver across the shoulders of his coat. But underneath all that was rawer. Relief. Desperation. The frantic need to make Jake understand.

“It’s not her,” Harrison repeated. Clearer that time. Certain. Fully awake. Fully Harrison. “The woman in the river. It isn’t Robyn.”

Jake gave in.

Every muscle let go at once, as though those words had cut through whatever had been holding him upright. Relief hit so violently it fucking hurt and he staggered through the open door into the bedsit, falling onto his knees hard enough to jar through him.

“Fuck.” He bowed forward.

Then shook.

This wasn’t new. That was the worst fucking part. Hope. Fear. Relief. Despair. Thirteen years of the same vicious cycle until he barely knew which one he was supposed to feel anymore.

Usually, he stayed standing.

For Mum. For Teddy. For Dad.

He nodded through tears, said he was fine, got himself somewhere no one could see him and found whatever way he could to stop feeling for a while. Disappear somewhere to scream himself empty into the woods or bury himself inside some stranger for an hour just to stop feeling anything at all.

But this time there was only Harrison.

Or—

Not only Harrison.

Christ. He couldn’t think about that now.

Jake buried his face in his hands as another tremor tore through him.

Harrison came up beside him then, flinging his arm around his shoulders, gathering him in, and Jake went without thinking. He locked both arms around Harrison’s waist and pressed his face hard into his shoulder, clinging to him while relief and guilt and thirteen fucking years of grief tore through him all at once.

And Harrison held him.

No questions. No telling him it was alright when it fucking wasn’t. No trying to stop it.

He simply held him through all of it.

Gradually, the shaking eased enough for Jake to breathe again. Harrison loosened his hold, then lifted both hands to Jake’s face, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes. The look there nearly undid him all over again. Longing. Guilt. Regret. Something painfully soft beneath all of it.

Then Harrison kissed him. Properly. Desperately. Sliding one hand into Jake’s hair as he pulled him closer with the other, mouth opening beneath his as though he’d been holding this back all bloody night.

And God.

Jake felt everything at once. Relief and exhaustion and hurt and want, all colliding inside him until he couldn’t separate one from another. He grabbed Harrison around the waist and dragged him closer, kissing him harder than he meant to. Too deep. Too desperate. As though somewhere between Hull and this balcony and finding Harrison asleep outside his flat, Jake had finally lost the ability to pretend this man wasn’t becoming something fucking dangerous to him.

After that, everything unravelled.

They stumbled backwards in a tangle of wet clothes and grabbing hands, kissing between broken breaths until Harrison hit the carpet and Jake went down with him. Christ, he needed this. Needed five fucking minutes when there was nothing in his head except Harrison. No river. No Robyn. No Chris.

Just him.

Jake ripped his top off, then shoved Harrison’s coat open and dragged his mouth down his throat, wrangling his tie loose to get to his skin. Harrison groaned, tipping his head back as Jake tore impatiently at buttons, kissing every piece of flesh he exposed, then fought with Harrison’s belt until he could drag his trousers and boxers low enough to free him.

Harrison was already hard.

So Jake dropped between his legs and took him into his mouth.