Chapter Twelve The Stand Down
Chapter twelve
The Stand Down
Freddie slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out of the changing hut, head a mess of static and bad decisions. The cold slapped him in the face and the sting worsened when he saw Jude standing there. Waiting for him.
Shit .
Everyone else had already disappeared. Off to the pub to lick their wounds and forget about fists flying and tempers snapping.
Freddie was the only one left. And Jude.
Zipped-up coat, hands tucked into his pockets, the wind pulling at his hair.
Glasses steamed. Smile bright and sweet. But not stupid. Not na?ve.
Freddie could see it written all over him.
Concern etched with a growing feeling of discontent.
He deserved better than this.
“Hey.” Jude greeted him warm and easy, as if he hadn’t watched Freddie’s life implode on the side of a pitch .
“Hey.” Freddie forced the word out. His body didn’t feel connected to him anymore. He was floating a few inches above himself, running on autopilot, locked behind glass.
“Tense match.” Jude chuckled, trying to break the tension. “They all like that?”
Freddie huffed a laugh. “You get a bunch of front-line lads together and the testosterone gets chucked around like free shots at a stag do.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Only with more bruises.”
“So I noticed.” Jude smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Everyone’s already headed to the pub for the all-you-can-eat wings. I wasn’t sure if you… maybe still wanted to go?”
Freddie winced, guilt digging in deep.
The date.
Their date.
Shit .
“I’m really fucking sorry, Jude. But I’m not… I don’t think I’m up for socialising tonight.”
Jude nodded immediately. No hesitation. “Of course. I get it. No worries.”
Which somehow made Freddie feel even more like a bastard.
“I can still drive you home, though,” he offered, needing to salvage something.
Jude’s smile returned. “That’d be great.”
“Unless you fancy testing how hot you can take it against a bunch of macho emergency service dudes?”
Jude laughed. “I’ll save that for another time. When the testosterone levels drop back to survivable. I’ve had my fair share of battle scars, too, y’know. ”
Freddie should ask more. And if this was a date, if he wanted to get to know Jude, he would. But he was too self-absorbed right then. So he angled his head towards the car.
Once they were inside, the heater sputtered to life as Freddie started the engine, stale warm air blowing across the chilled silence.
He peeked at Jude out of the corner of his eye as they pulled out onto the dark road.
He clocked the way he sat there, quiet, hands folded loosely in his lap, pretending not to notice how tense Freddie was behind the wheel.
And fuck, didn’t that make it worse?
A few minutes later, Freddie pulled up outside Jude’s small cottage, the tyres crunching on gravel. He didn’t cut the engine, and he gripped the steering wheel, letting the hum of the car fill the silence between them.
“Do you…” Jude cleared his throat, unsure, “want to come in?” His eyes were wide behind his glasses, filled with a kindness Freddie didn’t deserve.
And the honesty spilled out of him.
“If you’d asked me a week ago, I would’ve been in there faster than you could stack those bloody papers.” He nodded towards the piles of schoolwork at Jude’s feet.
Jude leant back in the seat, tilting his head, offering a small, sad smile. “Knew I was too late. My hesitancy fucks me over every time.”
Freddie twisted his hands on the wheel, stomach knotting tighter. “I’m sorry, Jude. I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve to be strung along. And right now, everything’s… really fucking complicated.”
“Nathan Carter?”
Freddie let out a harsh breath, because hearing his name physically hurt . He bowed his head, staring at his lap as if it might hide the shame clawing up his throat. “I wasn’t… totally honest earlier. We didn’t just go to school together.”
Jude tilted his head again, reading between every broken word. “Old boyfriend?”
“Not quite.”
“Straight best friend who broke your heart?”
Freddie sighed, unable to say the words. So he shrugged.
“S’alright, Freddie.” Jude tilted his neck in sympathy. “We all have a history. Some of it I don’t teach.” He chuckled, then fell serious. “God knows I wouldn’t want mine knocking at my door either.”
Freddie met his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Him coming back’s messed with my head. More than I want to admit. And it’s not fair to keep you hanging when I’m… like this.”
“I get it.”
“I don’t even know if he…” Freddie shook his head, looking away. “There’s nothing going on.”
“That’s not what his right hook said on that pitch tonight.”
Freddie hung his head.
Jude laid a hand on Freddie’s knee. Gave it a squeeze.
“I don’t know him, but I know his kid. And the look he had when I spoke to him about Alfie.
He’s hurting. Confused. Struggling.” Jude tilted his neck to get in Freddie’s line of sight.
“And whether that’s all about parenting, I doubt it.
Especially where he’s returned from. But I think what he needs right now is a friend. ”
Freddie swallowed the knot in his throat. “Yeah.”
“So go be his friend.” Jude removed his hand, leant across, and popped the passenger door open.
“You can be mine too.” He stepped out. “No pressure. Anytime you need a chat. Or a moan about the state of your love life. Or someone to sit in silence with.” He smiled then.
Small, genuine, no resentment in it. “You’re a good bloke, Freddie Webb.
Wish I’d been brave enough to snag you earlier. ”
Freddie smiled back, nodded once, the lump in his chest too big to speak around.
Jude gathered up his books and his battered work bag, gave a little wave, and headed up the garden path and Freddie watched him until he disappeared inside, the porch light blinking off as the door clicked shut.
And somehow, Freddie felt even more alone than before.
He drove without thinking, rattling over the familiar streets. But when he should have turned towards his place, towards safety and sleep and pretending none of it mattered, his hands kept the wheel straight.
Kept him heading back to Faraday Road.
To Nathan.
He pulled up opposite Nathan’s house, headlights cutting across the cracked pavement before he killed the engine.
He sat there for a second, heart hammering, watching the lights switch on and off inside, shadowy figures moving beyond the curtains.
Then, before he could lose his nerve, he shoved open the door, jogged across the road, and up the path.
His hand shook as he pressed the bell.
The door swung open almost immediately, and Freddie jolted back a step.
It didn’t matter how many years passed, Ron Carter was still a terrifying bastard.
“Freddie Webb.” Ron folded his arms across his broad chest, solid as ever. Time hadn’t been able to shrink a man built from concrete and stubbornness. “That Peugeot was running like a dream. You can’t’ve knackered it already. ”
“Uh… no. No, it’s good. Thanks for sorting that.” Freddie scratched the back of his neck, awkward. “Appreciate it.”
“You keep the streets clean, I’ll keep you moving.”
Freddie gave a faint laugh. “Right.” He shifted his weight, peering past him towards the hallway. “Is Nathan home?”
Ron arched a brow. “What is this? Two thousand and bloody six? You boys planning to ride your bikes through Blackleaf Wood again?”
Freddie laughed under his breath, the ache in his chest sharpening. “Yeah. Something like that.”
No. What he really wanted was to pull Nathan down under the pier again, to grab his hand and ask if he could kiss it all better this time.
“He’s taken his boy out to eat.”
Freddie nodded, forcing the smile. “Right. Of course.” He stepped back from the door, throat thick with disappointment. “Tell him I popped by.”
“Will do.” Ron slammed the door.
Freddie went home.
* * * *
Nathan slid the tray onto the sticky plastic table and dropped into the seat opposite Alfie, who already had one AirPod jammed in, hoodie up, swiping through his phone. Nathan unwrapped his burger, but his appetite had disappeared somewhere between the car and the golden arches.
Alfie stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth and stared at whatever was buzzing in his hand.
Nathan cleared his throat. “You wanna tell me what happened at school? ”
Alfie shrugged, still not meeting his eye. “Nothing.”
Nathan leant back, exhaling hard.
“They put you in isolation, Alf. Three days into a new school. That ain’t nothing.”
Another shrug. Another swipe of his thumb. His phone buzzed again. A short, piercing vibration that Nathan heard more than he wanted to.
“Can you turn that off?”
“Why?”
“So I can talk to you.”
Alfie turned the phone screen down on the table, then looked up. Cocked his head. “You wanna tell me what happened on the pitch?”
Nathan forced himself to stay calm. “An accident.”
Alfie snorted, looked away. “Yeah. That’s what got me into isolation, too. An accident .”
Nathan clenched his jaw. “I lashed out when I shouldn’t have. I know that. I own it. I try to do better. You should too.”
“What’s this? Do as I say, not as I do?”
“No. This is me telling you I’m not perfect.
That I make mistakes, too. That I’m trying to own them instead of hiding from them.
I’m not my old man. I don’t think I’m faultless.
I don’t expect you to be. But if we’ve got any shot at this—” he gestured between them, rough and frustrated, “—you need to learn the same thing. Own it. Face it. Move forward.”
Alfie shoved his burger into his mouth.