Chapter 17 #2
The admission hit Jake like a hard, physical blow. The idea of this man, good natured, a beacon of light in the dark, so genuine, being diminished by someone else’s selfishness was totally, fundamentally wrong.
“He took more than the relationship,” Jake said, forcing the words out through stiff lips. “He took your confidence, along with your place in the world.”
Ru looked up, surprise flashing across his face. “That’s… yes. Exactly. No one’s put it quite like that before.”
Jake didn’t answer, needing time to process what he’d heard, to manage the anger surging through his system.
In the field, he’d learnt to channel emotion into action, to use it rather than be controlled by it.
He did the same now, focusing on Ru rather than the absent ex who deserved a reckoning he’d likely never face.
“He was wrong,” Jake said finally, the words simple but weighted with conviction. “Not just morally but factually. You can’t erase what was real because truth is truth. What happened, happened. No amount of public denial changes that.”
A small smile touched Ru’s lips, a real one this time. “You make it sound so simple.”
“The situation wasn’t simple,” Jake acknowledged.
“But the principle is. He lied. About you, about himself, about what you had together. That’s on him, not you.
But he’ll always be looking over his shoulder, wondering when he’ll be exposed, when and where the words will come that’ll show him for the liar and coward he is. ”
Ru studied him in the lamplight, something shifting in his expression. “You know, for someone who’s not a talker, you cut right to the heart of things when you do.”
“All I’m doing is stating facts.”
“Well, your facts are a lot better than all the tea and sympathy I’ve had to endure,” Ru said, his tone lightening slightly despite the lingering shadow in his eyes.
The space between them had changed again, the revelation creating a new kind of intimacy, something deeper and more vulnerable. Jake was viscerally aware that Ru had trusted him with something raw and painful. That trust felt weighty and significant.
Jake leant forward again, bringing his hands up to cup Ru’s face. The kiss was different from the first, gentler and softer, a gesture of understanding rather than desire alone.
“I didn’t plan for this,” Ru said quietly.
“Neither did I.”
Ru answered with another kiss, all heat and intent, need unmistakable in the press of his lips, the small sounds he made when Jake’s arms circled his waist, pulling him closer.
Jake felt his control slipping as Ru’s body pressed against his, as their kiss deepened into something hungrier, more demanding.
Ru’s hands were in his hair now, fingertips against his scalp sending shocks of pleasure down his spine.
His own hands had found their way under the hem of Ru’s jumper, his, Jake’s jumper, encountering warm skin and the subtle curve of Ru’s lower back.
The wanting was a physical ache, intensified by the storm raging outside and the intimate cocoon of lamplight within. It would be so easy to let this momentum carry them further, to lose themselves in physical connection, in the basic, primal language of sex.
But even as his body urged him forward, something in Jake pulled back.
A recognition that this wasn’t right. Or not right now, not like this.
Ru was vulnerable, he’d just shared a deep betrayal that had rocked him to the core.
The wound might have scabbed over, but it was still raw beneath the brave words and the braver act to move forward with his life.
It wouldn’t take much for that scab to be ripped away.
He’d given Ru shelter and protection from the storm.
Taking advantage of that situation, of Ru’s vulnerability, went against everything he believed about right and wrong.
With a strength he didn’t think he had, Jake broke the kiss, though he didn’t fully pull away. Their foreheads rested together, unsteady breaths mingling, both of them taking a moment to regain some kind of balance.
“We should slow down,” Jake said, his voice rough with restraint.
Ru made a small noise of protest, his hands still in Jake’s hair. “Why? I want this. You want this. It’s not complicated.”
But it was complicated, in all the ways that mattered. Jake drew back, needing to see Ru’s face, to make him understand.
“You’re vulnerable right now. Think what you’ve just told me about your ex.”
Ru frowned. “It hurt like hell and it kicked my legs from under me, no way can I deny it, but I’m determined not to let him defeat me. I’m not some damsel in distress, Jake. I’m a grown man who knows what he wants.”
“I know that,” Jake assured him, his hand still at Ru’s waist, unable to completely break the connection between them. “It’s not about what you want. Or what I want. It’s about what’s right.”
“And this isn’t right?” Ru asked, a hint of hurt creeping into his voice.
Jake chose his words carefully, needing to make Ru understand without causing more pain, or worse still, humiliation.
“Not yet, not right now. Not while you’re here because you’ve nowhere else to go. Not right after you’ve shared something that left you feeling exposed.”
He watched understanding dawn in Ru’s eyes, followed by a complex mix of frustration and appreciation. “An honourable man.” A small but accepting smile tugged at his lips. “It feels like a long time since I met one of those.”
“It’s what I’ve always tried to be. Not always very successfully.”
It wouldn’t have taken much to blow all that honour out of the water.
Jake knew it as he watched Ru, because every cell in him wanted to pull him closer, not to continue but to go beyond, way beyond, what they’d started.
The physical need was almost painful, the tightness in his chest, the heat under his skin threatening to burn him up.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone so badly, so completely.
“I want you, Ru. How can I say otherwise, but—”
“There’s a but?”
Jake ploughed his fingers through his hair, dragging his nails across his scalp. “Yes, there is. You’re here because of the storm. Not by choice.”
“The storm may have brought me to your door, but being here with you like this is definitely my choice.”
Jake stood abruptly, needing physical distance to maintain his resolve.
The few steps to the fireplace felt like swimming against a powerful current, every instinct urging him back to the sofa, back to Ru.
He stared into the flames, trying to organise his thoughts into something coherent while his body screamed at him for walking away.
“You make it sound simple, but it’s not,” he managed after a moment, his back to Ru because facing him might crumble his resolve. “When you’re isolated, cut off, feelings get intensified. Things that might not matter in normal circumstances seem more significant.”
“So it’s the circumstances, or the blizzard’s fault? Is that what you think?” Ru’s voice was closer. Jake turned to find him standing, and just a step or two away.
“No,” Jake said quickly. “But you were betrayed, and not so long ago, which makes you vulnerable right now, whether you can accept that or not. And wasn’t it you who said you’d resolved to keep your distance?”
“Yes, it was. But then I met you.”
Jake’s mouth dried to sand. Anger he could have handled, frustration too. God, but that would have been so much easier than this reasonableness from Ru that was testing his position, making it harder with every passing second to maintain.
“I told you about Cooper because I trust you.” Ru took a small step forward. “Yes, I felt stupid and betrayed. Belittled. It’s still bloody painful, because how can it not be? I might be battered and bruised but I’m not broken.”
As Jake gazed down into Ru’s steady, clear eyes, his resolve wavered. He wanted to possess as much as protect, to take as much as to care for. His body screamed for one thing as his conscience argued for the other.
Ru had called him an honourable man.
“I still won’t take advantage,” he said, the words strained. “Of the situation. Of you.”
“That’s very noble,” Ru said, no mockery in his tone despite the words. “But have you considered that maybe I might want to take advantage of you?”
The unexpected response sent a fresh surge of heat through Jake’s body, making his hands clench at his sides. “Ru—” he started, his voice a warning even to his own ears.
“I’m clearly the corrupting influence here.”
Ru stared up at him, all huge eyes and unruly dark hair. Jake brushed aside an errant lock.
“A corrupting influence? You?” Jake smiled, the idea so ridiculous he couldn’t help it. The man was irredeemably cute, and as corrupting as a tiny puppy.
“Well, I was trying,” Ru admitted, meeting Jake’s smile with one of his own. “Not very successfully, it seems.”
The moment of levity was welcome, but the underlying tension remained, his body still acutely aware of Ru’s proximity, of what they’d started and not finished. The desire hadn’t diminished; if anything, Ru’s playful approach had only intensified it, adding a new layer to his attraction.
“It’s not that I don’t want…” Jake began, then faltered, searching for words.
“I don’t want to rush into something that might…
” He trailed off, unable to voice the fear that had been growing alongside his desire: that this connection might be as fragile as it was intense, that it might not survive outside the crucible of the storm.
Ru wasn’t just looking at him, he was studying, seeing beneath the skin, making Jake feel naked and exposed.
“This isn’t only about protecting me, is it?”
Jake looked away; Ru had seen through him as if he were transparent. “Maybe not,” he admitted.
“Because you’ve been hurt, too.”
“This isn’t about my past.”
“Isn’t it?” Ru asked, his voice quiet but level. “Because it feels like you’re keeping as much distance from your own feelings as you are from mine.”
The insight was too accurate, cutting too close to the bone. He relied on control, on clear boundaries, the foundations of his life after the forces, after everything that had followed. The chaos of desire, of emotional connection, didn’t fit neatly into those parameters.
Jake wanted, needed, to step away from temptation, from heat, from the ache of want, but his feet were lead, and fused to the floor. “I don’t trust myself to stop if we start again,” he said, his voice rough with honesty.
Ru gazed up at him, making Jake’s chest tighten so much it was hard to breathe. “That sounds more like a promise than a warning.”
Jake’s control frayed further as he rested his palm against Ru’s cheek, his thumb brushing across Ru’s cheekbone. Soft skin, rough stubble, the warmth beneath his palm, sent another wave of desire through Jake’s body.
“Ru,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.
” He lowered his hand from Ru’s face, taking a small step back.
How could the right thing feel so wrong?
Yet he’d backed away, he’d made his decision even if the loss of contact was a real and physical pain.
“Not tonight. Not like this. Not when you have no real choice about where you are and who you’re with.
Not when you have nowhere else to go.” True words, every single one, but they tore at Jake’s throat and he swore he could taste blood.
They looked at each other in the soft, flickering light, the air between them still charged, sparking with electricity. Yet, despite everything he’d said, Jake knew his resolve was built on shifting ground.
Ru nodded. “Okay. I understand even if you think I don’t. And even if I disagree.” His lips lifted in a resigned smile. “I know it’s still early, but it’s been quite a day, so I think I’d like to go to bed now, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Alone, when it didn’t have to be that way. But it did. For now it absolutely did.
“Take a lamp with you, and mind how you go.”
Seconds later, Ru was gone. Jake collapsed into the sofa, hearing every creak of the stair treads and floorboards, the bedroom door pushed closed.
He’d done the right thing. Even though his body railed at him for a fool, he’d done the right thing.
As he stared into the fire, he had to make himself believe it.