Trust (London Love #5)

“Well, I ducked into McDonald’s and then got trapped down in the loos. And I dropped my phone and the screen cracked, and I was shaking so much I couldn’t even make a phone call. Not very clever, I know. But I know Reuben’s number. I memorised it. Just in case. And then the security guy showed up and I was having a panic in the loos. I slid him my phone and told him to call you. I mean, where was I supposed to go?”

“You were supposed to do just that,” I told him calmly. Bloody Gray and bloody everything. “I’m glad you did.”

He picked up a biscuit. Then put it down again.

“I need a shower. That cubicle was filthy, and my hands feel all grubby.”

“I used to smoke in those loos. Those security guys raided us all the time. When I was like, fifteen? Sixteen? Peckham in the winter. A bit of a smoke and a nine-pack of nuggets. In the loos.”

My dad shook his head. Gray grinned.

“He was a bit of a mess, our Reuben.” My dad drained his cup. “And on that note, I’m going back to bed.”

“Thanks, Stewart. And…I’m sorry. I just…you know?” He did look sorry. A sorry state, in fact, his hair matted from his beanie and streaks down his cheeks. Still, he was Gray. All sharp angles and lashes. Messy, messy boy.

“You should have called me,” I said as soon as Dad closed his bedroom door. “On the train. Before you got on the train, even, because that was fucking dangerous, G. Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

He said nothing.

“Shower,” I agreed. “You stink.”

I pushed him into the bathroom and then went looking for clothes. Found a pair of not too skanky sleep shorts and a T-shirt with a Ronald McDonald print. Thought it was apt.

His laughter when I handed it to him through the door was…fun. I liked that we laughed. That he got me, in all my stupid ways. So my hoodie came off and I got back into bed, holding my duvet up for a freshly showered Gray to crawl in next to me, him against the radiator under the window, me on the edge towards the door. Like…always.

It was weird even thinking that. Everything was weird.

He’d washed his hair, and the damp strands fanned out everywhere, making my shoulder wet. I reached for the light.

Darkness. Soft breathing. Him wriggling like he just couldn’t settle. I didn’t blame him.

“Here,” I said, raising my arm. He put his head on my chest, and I curled around him, held him. The curve of his forehead somehow followed the contour of my chin. Amazing how we just fitted together like this. He still was a bloody reckless idiot, though.

“Next time,” I said crossly, giving him a little squeeze. “You call. Or you get that driver of yours to take you. You don’t go off on your own. I get that normal people do that, but you’re not normal, G. You’re not. Get that into that thick head of yours.”

Calling him thick was perhaps not nice, but he needed to hear it.

“’M’kay,” he said softly.

“Tomorrow, I’m working…well, in a couple of hours. So sort yourself out. Call your driver and get him to take you wherever. But let me know where you’re at and what you’re planning.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I could feel him grinning and the rhythmic thump of his heart.

Then he was quiet. His arm over my stomach. His leg coming to a rest against mine.

“G.” I sighed. Because what was this? Seriously?

“I saw a house today. A family home in, like, Marylebone or somewhere. Stupid money expensive, but it had a veranda with a barbecue.”

“You can build a veranda. Anywhere. And buy a barbecue in B&Q.”

He laughed. Good.

“Yeah, but this one…it was nice. I stood in the bedroom, and I could kind of…I could see myself there. My things scattered around the room, and then I…”

“What?”

“I imagined living there. With you.”