Chapter Eighteen Lay it All Down
Chapter eighteen
Lay it All Down
Jude took in the stripped-back lines of Warren’s place and inhaled.
Bare walls, furniture with no softness, nothing to ease the edges. It didn’t feel lived in. More stopgap than sanctuary. A bolt-hole. He’d been in plenty of places like this, rooms without photographs or knick-knacks, the absence itself a declaration: this is a house, not a home.
Warren had only just moved in. But weren’t those the first things people unpacked? The pieces that anchored you, reminded you where you belonged.
Not that Jude was in any position to judge.
So he didn’t.
He was already treading far enough beyond his own lines of safety without picking apart anyone else’s.
Back in the car, he’d been reckless. In a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in years.
He hadn’t let another man touch him since…
well, he didn’t want to drag that ghost into the room now.
It had taken too much to get here. To trust his own body again and feel the weight of another without flinching.
To stop hearing the echoes of someone else’s control in his head.
Of course he’d wanted. He was still a man.
And he still woke some nights with a bone-deep ache for another’s skin against his, for heat and scent and the solid press of someone over him.
He’d taken the edge off himself often enough.
With porn. His hand. But that was nothing compared to the real thing.
Trust had been the slowest, hardest thing to relearn.
To believe a man wouldn’t use his size as a weapon.
Wouldn’t turn the weight of his body into a cage.
And the first man he’d tried dating after years alone, years ruled by fear, had been Freddie.
Maybe he’d chosen him because he was a police officer.
By trade he was meant to be safe. Trustworthy.
And even though Freddie had tried to take things further after a couple of harmless dates and tentative kisses, Jude hadn’t been sure he could do it.
Not without handing over all the secrets he kept locked down.
The ghosts on his shoulders had been too heavy.
Then Nathan had walked back into Freddie’s life, and that was that. Jude was relieved he’d never let Freddie in too far. Because that would have been its own kind of torture. Breaking down walls for a man who loved someone else? No. Better to stay alone.
But now there was Warren. Broad shoulders. Solid frame. Power that should have made Jude flinch, but instead drew him in. He wanted it. Wanted him. The strength, the unshakable steadiness, the way his presence seemed to occupy every inch of a room. He’d let him close. Let him touch.
And now here he was.
In Warren’s house.
Jude wasn’t even sure what had carried him through the door.
Impulse, need, or some quiet surrender. But once inside, safety suddenly felt within reach.
Tangible. Dangerous too, though. Because safety was a lie he’d been told before.
Warren might not raise fists or spit threats but lies hurt just as deep.
Something about Warren didn’t add up, and Jude’s heart, as fragile as his body, knew it.
The door clicked shut behind them.
“Drink?” Warren asked. “Tea, coffee, water?”
“Water’s good. Yeah. Thanks.”
Warren nodded him towards the kitchen where he retrieved two bottles from the fridge, passing one over. Jude twisted off the cap, took a sip, his eyes fixed on Warren doing the same. The silence stretched until it pulled a small, nervous laugh out of him.
“You married?” Jude asked, cutting straight to it. Better to rip the plaster off than peel it slowly.
Warren hesitated, throat working before he answered. “No.”
“Separated then? Divorce dragging on?”
“No.”
“Seeing anyone? Officially… or not?”
“No.”
“Fresh break-up?”
A beat. “Depends what you mean by fresh.”
“Last few months.”
“No.”
“Alright…” Jude leaned back a fraction. “So how far does that relationship history go?”
Warren’s mouth quirked. “You’re the historian. How far back is history?”
“Everything’s history.”
“That’s… poetic.”
“If you mean how far back we look, about twenty years.”
Warren’s smile was faint, crooked. “You want my relationship status to backdate the last twenty years?”
Jude realised that was ridiculous. So he asked, “Are you still carrying a torch for your childhood sweetheart?”
Warren breathed out a laugh. “No.”
Jude studied him a moment longer before finally asking, “Are you bi?”
Warren glanced to the empty sink, then back. “Okay, I get it. You’re confused. So am I. And if you’re asking if I’m out, then no. Until recently, I’d’ve ticked the straight box. I did. On the bloody job application form.”
Jude didn’t blink. “So…I’m your first try with a man?”
Warren drew in a breath. “No. Not exactly.”
Jude tilted his head. “So you have been with men?”
“Sort of.”
Jude arched a brow. “What the hell does ‘sort of’ mean?”
“It means…” Warren dragged a hand over his face, eyes sliding away. “It’s a long, complicated answer. And one I can’t give you without trampling over about a dozen lines I’ve already edged too close to tonight.”
Jude’s voice lowered. “Which lines?”
“The one where I took advantage of someone who’s clearly hanging on by a thread.”
That stung. Jude looked away.
Warren exhaled hard, set his bottle down with a thud. “Look… what happened in the car? There are a hundred reasons why it shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.”
Jude braced, waiting for the blade to drop.
“But don’t mistake that for regret.” Warren leaned in, eyes locking to Jude’s until his voice softened.
“I wanted it. I liked it. Was it a surprise? Yeah. Absolutely. Should I have done it? Probably not. But I like you, Jude. I like seeing you, talking to you, hearing your voice. And…” His jaw flexed, words catching in his throat, breaking his gaze away as if looking at Jude pressed too heavy.
“Christ, I fancy you. More than I should. More than I ever thought I could. Enough that it feels like there ought to be barricade tape wrapped around the whole thing.”
He paused, shoulders tense, as if there was something else on the edge of his tongue. Something bigger. Riskier. But he bit it back.
“So yeah, I tested it. And I want more. A lot more.” His voice roughened, the restraint clear.
“But right now… that’s a headfuck I don’t know if I can untangle without making things worse.
What I can say, the only thing I should say, is that none of this is a game.
Not with you. I mean it. Every word. Every look.
Every touch. That’s as real as I can give you right now. ”
Jude stayed silent. Not because he didn’t have thoughts, but because none of them knew how to form into words. Then Warren edged closer and Jude felt him everywhere. His scent, his sincerity, the quiet weight of him filling the air. It stole his breath.
“I think something’s going on with you.” Warren dipped lower, settling his hands firm on Jude’s hips, and Jude nearly folded at the touch. “And I want to know what it is. If I can help. Granted…” He huffed a dry laugh. “I probably should’ve asked before I got my dick out in the car.”
A startled snort escaped Jude before he ducked his head.
Warren crooked a finger beneath his chin, coaxing his gaze back up.
“What I want to know, though, is why you’re sleeping in your car.”
Jude bit down on his lip, trying to contain the tremor running through him.
“You can trust me.” Warren whispered those words so softly they slid under Jude’s armour and something inside him loosened.
The old strings he’d tied around himself, the knots of survival keeping him upright slipped free.
He tipped forward, forehead finding Warren’s chest. Strong arms wrapped around him at once.
No urgency. No demand. Just holding. As if that was Warren’s whole purpose. “Are you in danger?”
Jude said nothing.
A slow pass of Warren’s hand over the back of his neck kept him steady. “Let me help. Start with one thing.” He softened his lips at Jude’s ear, not quite a kiss but as intimate as one. “Something small. Does it have to do with someone you’ve seen recently?”
Jude couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. He’d spent so long burying it.
“Is it someone from here… or someone who followed you?” Warren kept his voice quiet, neutral, giving Jude the choice.
Jude shifted but didn’t pull away.
“Is it someone you know well?” Warren settled his hand at the nape of Jude’s neck, tracing slow, grounding arcs against his skin with his thumb. “Or someone you barely know at all?”
Jude swallowed, the movement tight and dry in his throat.
“I can keep you safe if you tell me.”
Jude pulled away to meet his eyes and for a moment Jude almost believed him.
But almost wouldn’t keep Callum away.
“No one can keep me safe.” Jude looked away.
“I can.”
Jude shook his head. “No. You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s already happened.”
“What has?”
“Everything I did.”
The words landed heavier than he meant them to. Jude stepped out of Warren’s embrace, the cold rushing back in like a tide. He wrapped his arms around himself, the only ones he trusted, and backed away until the edge of the kitchen chair caught behind his knees. He sat.
“This will ruin everything for me.”
Warren didn’t move. Didn’t crowd him. “What will?”
“When he tells everyone.”
Warren nodded, nothing in his face giving away judgment. “Who?”
“My ex.”
“Has he threatened you?”
Jude almost laughed. “He doesn’t need to. Him being here… in this town… that’s threat enough. And a risk I can’t have.”
“I want to help you, Jude. I do. But you have to give me something. What’s happened? What’s he done?”
Jude slipped his glasses off, rubbed the lenses on his sleeve until the cloth squeaked. The kitchen was warm, but the damp, bone-deep cold of old nights came creeping in. The smell of cheap cologne. The metallic tang of blood he’d swallowed back down.
“I told you I left home young?”
Warren gave a small nod.