Chapter Twelve Exposed Rafters
Exposed Rafters
Jake stood on the touchline with his hands shoved deep in his gilet pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind cutting straight across the open field. He should’ve worn a coat, but he’d come straight from a job, so it was his hoodie and gilet, the only thing between him and the biting wind.
The cold had got into him hours ago, creeping through his boots and denim down into his bones until it felt permanent. He lifted his hands to his mouth to blow into them, breath fogging the air.
Friday night rugby was always like this.
Standing under the yellow floodlights, Jake thought the pitch looked more mud than grass, churned to ribbons by boots and bodies.
The white lines had long since blurred into brown streaks.
Beyond the far posts the land dropped away into the dark fields stretching towards the moors, the sky low and heavy with damp, promising rain but never quite delivering.
Typical Yorkshire evening.
Jake stamped his feet to bring some feeling back into them and kept his eyes on the pitch. “Tackle him, Ted! Go on!”
Teddy was all elbows and stubborn determination, barrelling across the field after the ball.
Jersey streaked with mud, hair plastered to his forehead, the kid ran as if the cold didn’t exist. Jake felt the familiar swell in his chest watching him.
The lad had talent. Proper talent. Coaches had talked about academy pathways last year, trials and development squads.
Jake knew little about that world, but he knew enough to see Teddy had something special.
Which meant the boy needed someone turning up.
Therefore, Jake did.
Rain or shine. Training or matches. Weeknights and weekends.
Different pitches in different towns. Early morning drives with the heater blasting and Teddy half-asleep in the passenger seat, clutching a sports bag bigger than he was.
Feeding him afterwards, too, because teenage boys burned through food like bonfires.
His parents couldn’t do it anymore. They’d done their years raising kids, taking Robyn to swimming and dance lessons, and him to guitar and drumming lessons followed by football training.
Then, having to raise Robyn’s baby when everything went wrong, they were exhausted.
They couldn’t handle cold evenings on the touchlines anymore.
And Teddy’s dad…Well, he hadn’t bothered for a while now, even if Gavin had once been a promising rugby player himself.
Jake sighed at the thought.
Gavin wasn’t a bad man. Not really. Life had simply hit him hard and left him lying where he’d fallen.
Some people got back up after that. Some never quite did.
Jake had always understood that. He felt for him.
But Teddy still needed someone. So Jake was here.
Every time. Because someone had to be. And one day, whether in this life or whatever waited after it, when Jake saw Robyn again, she’d know: Jake hadn’t left her boy alone.
Not like he had her.
On the pitch, Teddy scooped the ball up from a loose tackle and sprinted.
“Go on, lad!” Jake’s voice carried across the touchline.
Teddy darted past one defender, then another, boots sliding in the mud before he regained balance and pushed forward again. The last defender lunged and missed. Then Teddy dived over the try line.
Jake punched the air. “Yes!”
The whistle blew. A few parents clapped politely under umbrellas, but Jake whooped loud enough for everyone as Teddy pushed himself up from the mud, cheeks flushed red with cold and effort, and scanned the sideline until he spotted Jake.
Jake lifted his fist into the air.
Teddy grinned and knocked his own muddy palm against his chest in reply.
And that, right there, was one of those moments making Jake’s sacrifices even more worthwhile. When a quiet pride settled warm beneath his skin. When he knew, no matter what, he’d never stop being Robyn’s little brother and Teddy’s surrogate father.
Fifteen minutes later, the match ended, and the temperature had dropped a few degrees more. Teddy trudged over to him across the grass, hair damp with sweat and mud streaking his legs.
“You see that try?” he said as Jake handed him his water bottle and watched him pour it into his mouth and all over his face.
Jake snorted. “Hard to miss when you were shoutin’ like you’d won the bloody World Cup.”
“I did win it.” Teddy grinned.
Jake slung an arm around the kid’s shoulders and steered him towards the van. “Come on then, champion. Let’s get you fed before you collapse.”
They climbed in, the cold following them inside until Jake twisted the key and cranked the heater to full blast. The vents rattled to life, coughing out blessedly warm air as Teddy waved through the window at his teammates hanging around the pitch.
Jake pulled out of the muddy car park. “You want Maccy D’s or Greggs this time?”
Teddy raised an eyebrow. “Gran’ll go nuts.”
“You leave her to me.” Jake reached over and ruffled Teddy’s hair. Instant regret. “Jesus.” He wiped his clammy palm on his jeans with a grimace. “What’ve they been rolling you in, glue?”
Teddy laughed, swiping his hair back into place. “Gran’s cooking.”
“You can eat a steak bake and one of Gran’s Friday night teas, aye? You’re a growing lad.”
Teddy snorted at that.
Jake swung the van towards the road out of town, heading for the Greggs on the edge of Hartswick. Ten minutes later they parked up in the corner of the car park with two paper bags between them, grease-stained wrappers piling on the dashboard while they dissected every moment of the match.
“You should’ve passed before the line,” Jake said around a mouthful of pastry.
“I scored though.”
“Aye, but you got lucky. Proper teams’ll smash you if you hold the ball that long.”
Teddy rolled his eyes and stole the sausage roll waiting on Jake’s lap.
“Oi!” Jake spat out a load of crumbs with the protest.
“Growing lad, you said.”
“Cheeky git.”
The radio hummed in the background, some chart show spilling through the speakers while the heater roared.
Then that song came on. The one crawling up the charts lately.
Four lads from Leeds suddenly everywhere.
Radio. Festivals. Headlines. Neon Arcade’s first arena tour, announced after last summer’s festival season, had launched them straight into superstardom.
The opening riff filled the van.
Teddy tilted his head, frowning. “Ain’t that—”
Jake switched the radio off, dropping silence into the van again, thick and sudden. “Let’s get you home.”
He started the engine then pulled out of the car park, purposely not turning the radio back on.
After the short drive home, he turned onto the Whittons’ gravel drive and gathered up the crumpled wrappers and empty cartons from the dashboard, crushed them into a greasy ball, and shoved the lot under the passenger seat. Evidence removed.
He pointed a warning finger at Teddy. “Say nowt, y’hear?”
Teddy grinned, then jumped out of the van, sprinting up the drive and bursting through the front door as he yelled into the house, “Gran! Jake got me Greggs!”
“Oi! You little grass!” Jake jumped out of the van and into the house, catching Teddy halfway down the corridor before he could vault up the stairs.
He hooked an arm around his shoulders, clamping a hand over his mouth while Teddy dissolved into laughter.
“Don’t believe him, Mum.” Jake dragged the kid into the living room, raking his knuckles through Teddy’s hair. “Lying little ratbag.”
Then he stopped.
Because there, on the other side of the sofa where his mum sat, on two chairs pulled in from the dining table, was a uniformed police officer and alongside her, DI Harrison Black.
Harrison glanced up. Met Jake’s gaze.
And Jake couldn’t avoid the stomach-flipping reaction to those eyes if his life had depended on it.
Jake released Teddy, straightening. “Hey.”
Harrison gave a brief nod. Professional. Controlled. “Jake.”
God.
He needed to stop saying his name like that. He wished he’d never told him to stop using Mr Whitton. Because that voice…that single clipped syllable did things to Jake he wasn’t ready for.
Maggie turned in her seat, peering over the back of the sofa. “This is DI Harrison Black, love.”
“Aye.” Jake nodded. “We’ve met.”
Harrison lowered his gaze before gesturing to the officer beside him. “And this is PC Murray. We’re asking a few questions.”
“About what?”
His mum sniffed. “About Robyn, love. And that other girl gone missing.”
Teddy went rigid beside him. So Jake slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. Whatever was coming, Teddy wasn’t facing it on his own.
Across the room, Harrison’s gaze found his again.
Those fucking eyes.
Had Jake always had a thing for soft brown eyes, or was it just Harrison’s? He couldn’t remember the eye colour of any other bloke he’d been with. Then again, eyes weren’t usually where he’d been looking.
Apparently, he was making an exception.
“I’d like to speak with you as well,” Harrison said. “Officially.”
Jake nodded. “Alright.”
“But perhaps once we’ve finished here, we could talk privately?”
“Aye.” Jake leaned over the back of the sofa and squeezed his mum’s shoulder.
She reached up and tapped his fingers. Then he looked over to his dad in the armchair.
Donnie sat slumped, hands clasped together, gaze distant in the way it had been ever since Robyn disappeared.
Jake gave him a small nod anyway. Then he looked back at Harrison. “I’ll be in the back.”
Harrison nodded.
Jake guided Teddy out of the room and down the hallway into the back kitchen.
“Why d’you think they’re here?” Teddy asked.
Jake leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “Maybe they found summat.”
Teddy swallowed.
Jake softened his voice a little. “Why don’t you go have a shower. Get out of that kit. We’ll let you know if there’s owt to know, aye?”