CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WYNTER
We leave the café twenty minutes later with takeaway cups in hand and the smell of bacon still clinging to our clothes.
Ray holds the door open for me, his expression unreadable as he scans the street automatically before stepping out behind me.
I notice it now, the way he’s always looking, checking for danger.
Protecting me. And it’s not because he thinks I’m incapable, he’s just convinced himself it’s his job now.
And after hearing parts about his childhood, I understand it better.
“You’re thinking too loudly again,” he says beside me.
I blink up at him. “Is that your polite way of saying I’m annoying you?”
“It’s my polite way of saying you’re staring at me.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks instantly. “I wasn’t staring.”
“You absolutely were.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip of coffee to avoid answering.
The city feels quieter now. The rush of earlier fading into scattered taxis, distant sirens and the occasional burst of laughter drifting from dark corners.
Beside me, Ray loosens his coat slightly, the cold air turning the tips of his ears pink. Strangely, that little detail almost humanises him in my head. Not the vulnerable confessions, or the stories about care. But pink ears.
I smile to myself.
“What?” he asks immediately.
“Nothing.”
“That smile says otherwise.”
I shake my head, still grinning as we walk.
For the first time since I moved here, London doesn’t feel lonely and the realisation catches me off guard. I haven’t had a sad thought all day. The heaviness that’s been holding me in its vice like grip for months, is lessening.
My shoulder brushes Ray’s accidentally as we turn a corner, and instead of moving away immediately, I hesitate. So does he, and the silence between us shifts slightly.
I glance down briefly at his hand swinging beside mine. He’s got strong, masculine hands. Hands that held my feet earlier like I was something precious. The thought makes my stomach flutter embarrassingly hard and before I can stop myself, my fingers move slightly closer to his.
Not touching.
Just . . .
Close.
Ray notices instantly. His gaze flicks downward before lifting to my face briefly, with a silent question. Then, slowly and carefully, his fingers slide between mine.
The contact steals the breath from my lungs. The strangest thing is it feels natural. Like somehow, we’ve done this a hundred times before. His hand is warm around mine, steady and grounding as we continue walking through the sleeping city.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs.
I glance up at him. “I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I smile faintly before asking the question that’s been circling my head all night. “What was it really like?”
His brows furrow slightly. “What?”
“Growing up in care.”
The playful ease between us dims slightly. Ray looks ahead for a moment before answering. “Lonely.”
My heart sinks with sadness and I give a small nod.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he adds like it’s an after-thought.
“I had Dale and Anika. But I looked around at other kids and wished to God I had their life. Stable, solid parents who gave a shit where they were, who they were with. It almost consumed me with jealousy,” he admits.
“And I got this sick fucking kick out of selling coke to Uni students,” he glances my way before lowering his eyes to the floor again.
“I’ve never told that to anyone,” he says absent-mindedly, like the thought comes right out of his mouth.
I almost feel honoured he’s opening up, so I give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Why?”
He shrugs, “It was a chink in their happiness. A happy family unit with their kid in Uni. I mean, that’s massive, right.
And then there they were, our future doctors or scientists, buying coke from scum like me.
” He sighs. “It gave me satisfaction to think they were fucking up. Then as I grew up, I became annoyed they’d jeopardise everything.
Here I was wanting that life, and they had it and didn’t even realise how precious it was. ”
The honesty in the word aches somewhere deep inside me. “I don’t blame you for feeling like that.”
He glances at me. “No?”
I shake my head. “You’re right. They’re privileged, and they don’t know what it’s like to not have it.”
The city glows around us while our footsteps echo softly along the pavement.
“Thanks,” he eventually says.
I smile up at him. “For what?”
“Understanding.”
As we near the casino again, we pass a tiny flower stall still somehow open despite the hour. Buckets of flowers spill across the pavement beneath fairy lights.
I slow automatically. Ray notices. “You like flowers?”
I shrug lightly. “Doesn’t every woman?” I smile. “They make me happy.”
He studies me for a second before quietly telling the vendor, “Give me the nicest bunch you’ve got.”
My eyes widen instantly. “Ray, I wasn’t hinting—”
But he’s already paying.
A minute later, he turns back towards me holding out a bouquet of pale cream roses wrapped in brown paper. The gesture is so unexpectedly gentle it nearly undoes me.
“They reminded me of you,” he says simply.
I stare down at the flowers, my chest tightening with emotion. No one’s bought me flowers in years. And somehow it isn’t even the roses that affect me most. It’s the fact he noticed I stopped walking to look at them.
Slowly, I take them from him.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper.
Ray’s gaze lingers on my face for a second too long, and suddenly the air between us feels heavier again.
Charged. My heart stumbles awkwardly in my chest as he steps closer, like he’s drawn to me.
I feel the warmth of him even in the cold night air.
His eyes flick briefly to my mouth before meeting mine again.
And for one reckless second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
I think I might let him.
Instead, he reaches up slowly and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is featherlight.
“Come on,” he murmurs softly. “Let’s get you home.”
I wake slowly, warm and disoriented. For a second, I have no idea where I am. Then I feel a steady rise and fall beneath my cheek.
My eyes blink open and I stare up at Ray. My head is resting in his lap.
A blanket has been draped over me at some point during the night, and one of Ray’s arms hangs loosely across my waist, like even asleep he wanted to make sure I was still there.
My breath catches softly.
The television across the room is still playing some documentary on low volume, the city skyline glowing brightly through the huge windows beyond it.
We must have fallen asleep on the couch after getting back from our walk.
Carefully, I tilt my head back slightly to look up at him. He’s completely out. And somehow, asleep, Ray looks younger. The permanent tension usually pulling at his features has gone entirely.
His dark hair has fallen messily across his forehead, his lips slightly parted as he breathes deeply.
Last night keeps replaying in my head.
His hand holding mine.
The flowers.
The way he looked at me outside the casino. Like not kissing me was taking every ounce of restraint he had left.
And the worst part? I wanted him to. Badly.
The realisation sends heat creeping into my cheeks even now.
Because somewhere between bacon baps and vulnerable confessions in the middle of London, this stopped feeling complicated and started feeling normal.
And fuck knows it’s been a long time since I felt like that.
I’m falling for him. Shit. I am . . . again!
A soft sound in the hallway makes me look up and Lucy appears moments later carrying a coffee mug.
She takes one step into the room—
And freezes.
Her eyes widen dramatically as she stares at us tangled together on the couch.
Oh god.
I carefully lift Ray’s arm from my waist and slowly sit up, trying not to wake him. Lucy’s gaze flicks between us, absolutely thriving internally despite the fact she’s trying not to show it.
I press a finger to my lips in warning and her grin widens immediately. I quietly stand, adjusting the blanket over Ray instinctively before heading towards the kitchen.
Lucy follows silently behind me.
The second we step inside, I brace myself for her interrogation. Instead, she leans against the counter, watching me carefully for a moment before smiling softly.
“Well,” she says. “That’s new.”
Heat floods my face instantly. “We just fell asleep.”
“Mmhmm.”
I groan. “Lucy.”
But surprisingly, she doesn’t tease me further. Instead, her eyes drift briefly towards the living room. “Maybe,” she says thoughtfully, “he’s not quite as bad as I originally thought.”
The words catch me off guard enough that I blink at her. “That’s practically a declaration of love coming from you,” I mutter. “So, you’re telling me one meal and he’s won you over?”
She snorts softly into her coffee before looking back at me properly. “I wouldn’t say that,” she begins before shrugging. “But I caught the way he looks at you. It’s different from before.”
My stomach flips awkwardly. “Different how?”
“Like he’s terrified.” I frown slightly. Lucy smiles knowingly over the rim of her mug. “Men only ever look like that when they realise they’ve found something they really don’t want to lose.”
Emotion swells unexpectedly in my chest. Because I want her to be right. I want him to look at me exactly like that, and that scares the shit out of me.
RAY
I wake with a start, sitting up straighter and glancing around. The television is still on, playing some crime documentary that Wynter put on.
Wynter.
I push to my feet, panic swallowing me. And then I hear her laugh and I instantly relax, following the sound to the kitchen where I find her and Lucy at the table drinking coffee.
They both turn as I enter, and surprisingly, Lucy smiles wide before saying, “Good morning sleepy head.”