Trust (London Love #5)

“I’m not sexually active.” I smirked with unease. “And I’m off the sleeping tablets.”

“What about the Ativan? It kept you less anxious. Your iron levels are probably dangerously low, and the vitamins I got you—the tub is still unopened on the counter.”

I held up my hands in defeat. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d popped any kind of pills. I didn’t drink. I didn’t do drugs. I did self-pity and hiding and darkness and stupidity. Those were my drugs of choice.

“You’re going home, today.”

“Mum—”

“Dr Williams will be here in an hour. He will talk you through your options with medications and refer you to someone down in London. He’ll do your bloods privately. Talk to him.”

“Mum, he’s like eighty.”

“Shush. I worked with him my entire career. He’s known you since you were a newborn tot, and he has your best interests at heart. If you can manage without medicating yourself, that’s great. But I think you’re way beyond that. This whole doing-nothing thing you have going on needs to stop. Your anxiety is getting the better of you again, and the PrEP is essential in this day and age. You need to look after yourself. Most of all, you need to look after that young man of yours.”

“What young man?” I muttered sarcastically. And I was not going anywhere.

“The handsome young man in the kitchen with Dad. He’s lovely, by the way. So polite. Reuben, is it?”

WTF?

“Dad’s going to take him down to fill up his car—you know how difficult it is to negotiate the entrance to the petrol station with the new one-way system in town. Then Reuben is driving you back to London. We offered him to stay the night, but I doubt the two of you will fit on that sofa. Regardless, you’re not going anywhere until Dr Williams has had some stern words with you.”

Here we go again…but this time with feelings

REUBEN

I’d done some impulsive things in my life, mostly things my dad had disapproved of. This time, though? He packed me a sandwich and some fruit, stashed water bottles on the back seat and made sure my charger was working. He’d even waved me off with a smile.

FFS, Dad.

It was the only way to fix this, and yes…perhaps I should have told Gray I was coming, but then he’d fret about it and get all antsy, and I didn’t want that. I was just going to go up and grab him. Stash him in my car and tell him to go to sleep so I could drive in peace and quiet.

I enjoyed driving, and the motorway was surprisingly fun, my brain cooperating nicely for once. I stayed in my lane, used my indicators correctly and managed to keep out of the way of the lorries. I stopped at the big services and treated myself to a nice coffee. Sat on a bench and watched all the cars. People going places. Dad and I always did that on our holidays. Stopped at the services. Happy memories.

I drove through Birmingham, which was quite thrilling. London was massive, but this was a completely different city, while Manchester was all fields, the motorway taking me nowhere near the actual place. Then I had to turn off into the countryside, with narrow roads and tractors. I’d never actually seen one in action, so I pulled over for a while and watched a huge one plough a field, chewing my paper cup, pretending I still had coffee in it. It was summertime and the air was warm—air that smelled very different from the London fumes I was used to. I liked it. I really did.

But I wasn’t here for my health, and I had an evening shift tomorrow.

Work. Perhaps I should use some of my leave days. I never usually did, but maybe I should actually take some time off. See what life could be like with…

I poked the satnav back to life. He’d done as I’d told him. Dropped me his location, address and all, and the small town his parents lived in was quaint and quiet. Too quiet. Roads with old-fashioned pebble-dashed bungalows, grey stone cottages, until I turned onto an estate that looked surprisingly familiar.

Like home. The same structures. Boarded-up shop fronts. Kids on bikes.

It made my heart hurt, and it took me a while to figure out why.

Pulling up onto the drive at the address he’d given me, I thought it would feel strange. Instead, I felt right at home. And that’s when it hit me. Like a tonne of bricks on my head.

Gray was just like me. He’d grown up here, and…he was just who he was. Like I was who I was. We were…

I had to actually wipe my eyes. We were exactly the same. Just he’d made different choices. Become someone else.

And I’d become me.

I got out of the car and wiped my now-sweaty hands down the front of my hoodie. Checked myself carefully using the windscreen as a mirror.

“Can I help you?”