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Chapter 1 – RJ Scott
Henry Lewis contemplated not answering the knock on his bedroom door. It would be
easy to hide out in here from his mum and not join everyone else downstairs. He'd done
his bit. Caterers were here doing food but he had been the one responsible for hefting
tables and moving chairs around. They had to be in organised groups in a manner that
made them not look organised at all. Emily Lewis was a stickler for perfection and the
thought of her not having enough chairs to hold court was something bringing her out
in a rash.
"Henry, darling, everyone will be here in a few minutes. Are you dressed?" she called
from the landing..
Yes. He was dressed. But not in the smart slacks and pristine white shirt his mum had
said would be a 'good thing to wear'. No. He was in jeans, admittedly his best jeans, and
a blue sweater over a blue T-shirt – sue him, blue was his best colour.
"Yes, Mum. I'll be down in ten."
He could picture his mum's face; her lips tight in a little moue of displeasure. She
wanted him to be there when she answered the front door to her guests. Her brilliant
surgeon son who saved lives on a daily basis. He was as much an ornament as the
fifteen foot Norway spruce in the high ceilinged hallway.
"Don’t be long, Henry." She elongated his name so that it sounded more like hen-reeeee.
She only did that when she was dissatisfied with him.
"I won't be," he called. He waited for sounds of her moving away from him but it was
only years of listening to the same thing that meant he could tell when she moved.
Expensive carpet muffled her footsteps but the floorboards outside his room squeaked
in a very particular way. When he was satisfied she had moved away he relaxed. He
hadn’t wanted to attend this damn thing. Last year, he and Jack had promised that this
year would be different. This year they wouldn’t attend the Christmas party that
Henry's mum threw each year and that the entire village of Cantly-on-Thame attended.
Thing is, Jack wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be going with Henry to anything again. Not
after what happened in September. Emotion curled inside Henry as memories surfaced
and he crossed to the window with the view over the lake at the back of the house.
There'd been snow overnight, just as if his mum had ordered it. Even Henry had to
admit the beautiful house in the wilds of Leicestershire was stunning against an icy lake
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and with a few inches of the white stuff covering the whole area. The snow sparkled in
the half light of late afternoon and for a few minutes Henry simply stared down at the
grounds of his childhood home. Those damn memories wouldn’t leave him alone. If
only he'd done things differently. If only Jack had been a different person—a more
understanding person. He couldn’t be the taking-life-as-it-comes man that Jack was. He
was a man of position and he had to act the right way, be seen doing the right things. If
only Jack had seen that under the shell remained the Henry he had fallen in love with…
hell, there were too many ‘if onlys’.
Straightening his shoulders, he decided now was as good a time as any to make his way
downstairs. He knew Jack's mum, Angela Hughes, would be arriving with her husband
Edward in tow. But for the first time in twenty years Jack wouldn’t be with them.
Henry's mum wasn’t specific as to why Jack wasn’t coming but when she persuaded
Henry to attend he only did so when he knew there was no chance of meeting up with
the man who had left him and broken his heart.
"Henry," his mum said warmly as he jumped the last two steps of the staircase to the
hall. She frowned a little at his action but he'd always jumped the last two steps. Aged
eleven or thirty one, he would jump those last steps until the day he couldn’t walk. It
was tradition. He landed in the hallway to groups of people milling in the hall and his
dad was busy taking coats and placing them in perfect order in the study.
"Henry, help your father," his mum said. Willingly he joined his dad in what was
normally Alan Lewis's cave. Any place to hide out.
"Thank God you're here," Alan said as Henry assisted him in taking the coats.
"Coats getting too heavy for you, dad?" Henry teased.
"Ha, bloody ha, son. Your mum is anxious and I just want it all to go well. We don’t
want a repeat of the prawn fiasco of oh-six."
"Alan, Henry? Angela and Edward are parking the car out front. They'll be inside in a
moment."
Alan rolled his eyes. Emily Lewis ran a tight ship on social events like this. Henry
smiled at the familiar interaction between his parents who were just as much in love
with each other now as they had been when they were married. Henry wanted that.
He'd wanted it with Jack.
"To battle," Alan said dryly.
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Alan's words put a halt to Henry's wishing. He nodded. "To battle."
* * * *
Jack Hughes hovered by the car.
"You need to come in," his mum said softly. Angela Hughes achieved a lot by using
patient encouragement—far more than shouting.
"You said he wouldn’t be here, Mum. You said that it was going to be okay. Why tell
me that Emily was matchmaking? Why tell me when we're stood here at the bloody
front door and it's too late for me to avoid him?"
"Language, sweetheart," his mum warned. "I honestly didn’t know until last night. I
was prepared to go along with Emily's plans but seeing you look so sad when you look
up at that house makes me think we're wrong to make you confront each other."
"Hell, yes you're wrong," he snapped. Then felt immediately guilty when his dad put an
arm across his mum's shoulder and frowned at him.
"Sorry, Mum," he said quickly. Being thirty might make him a grown up, holding down
a nine to five job might make him responsible, but being rude to his mum was never a
good thing.
She pulled him in for a brief hug and he inhaled the perfume that reminded him of
childhood and times when he wasn’t nursing a broken heart.
"I don’t know what happened between you two but it upsets me to see you sad and lost.
You were so much in love…" she stopped talking and he pulled from her hug. What did
he say to her? Yes, he had been in love. He'd even had a ring in his pocket, was going to
go down on one knee and propose -. Bloody stupid. Henry wasn’t going to settle for a
primary school teacher when he was a cutting edge surgeon. He'd shown that when
they were together with the missed dates, or the days going by without even a text.
They may well have grown up together, discovered boys together, but had they really
fallen in love? Or was it just easy proximity that had them falling into bed with each
other? The sex was incredible, the hugs, the love…
He couldn’t even think about it.
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"What if I see him and it all comes spilling out, Mum?"
Edward spoke this time. His dad was a quiet man but when he did speak he somehow
managed to summarise everything in a few words.
"Probably best if it does," was all he said.
The three of them stood silently for a moment and then Angela clapped her hands. "Can
we wait until after the champagne, though?" she said. "I like champagne."
Jack huffed a laugh and his breath crystallised in the frosty cold air. Linking hands with
his mum they made their way up to the large country house.
If Henry was here, then Jack could be calm and collected. He could ignore the crack in
his heart and the memories that hurt.
Maybe.
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Chapter 2 – Chris Quinton
Emotional blackmail from his mother had forced Jack into a smart charcoal suit,
burgundy shirt and toning tie. The first person he saw was Henry, in a blue sweater
that would match the colour of his eyes, and jeans. Damn him. And of course, Georgina
Parry was there with him, hanging onto Henry's arm like a tentacled limpet. Jack
turned away from the sight and stared out of the window. Calm and collected,
remember? Doesn't matter if you're feeling as if your heart's been ripped out of your
chest. Georgina, daughter of Don Parry—sorry, Sir Donald Parry, OBE—was twenty-
eight, unattached, lovely, and the indulged only child of a very influential man. Parry
had received a knighthood in the Royal Birthday Honours List in the summer, for
services to neurosurgery and research. Cutting edge stuff—he snorted bitterly at his
pun—in Henry's field of expertise. At the same time, Henry had landed a position in
Parry's team in Birmingham's Queen Elizabeth Hospital.
The Lewises had thrown a party to celebrate their friend's rise in the social hierarchy,
and Henry's new career under him. Emily loved entertaining, thoroughly enjoyed the
whole nightmarish organising and staging. She'd been best friends with Good Old
Don's wife, Caroline—and Jack's own mother—since their first days at school. But
college, university and then his job had kept Jack himself out of the Parrys' circles. Until
that party.
Henry had introduced him to the new knight, and Parry had been pleasant, welcoming.
He'd shaken Jack's hand, Caroline had air-kissed his cheek and Georgina had beamed at
him. Like everyone else in their circle of friends, they knew that Henry and Jack were
gay and together. It wasn't a problem, socially or professionally. But Jack's choice of
career was. And Henry had stood by and said nothing when first Parry, then his
daughter, had scorned him. Oh, he'd looked uncomfortable, irritated, but had remained
silent.
And that was the beginning of the end.
"Hi, Bones," said a familiar voice. He glanced round to see Tim Elliott standing at his
shoulder. Very close. "Long time, no see. How's it going with the ankle biters?" Once
he'd been a spotty, plump child. The adult Tim was good-looking and knew it. His dark
hair was immaculate, his goatee and moustache perfectly trimmed, giving him a rakish
charm few could resist. When Jack was a gangly school kid and Tim an overweight one,
Jack hadn't liked him. The feeling hadn't changed over the years.
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"Evening, Porks," he responded, using a childhood nickname in his turn.
"I think we've both outgrown those labels," Tim said, smiling with all his teeth. "You're
looking good, Jack. Made it to Headmaster yet?"
"Nope." Tim's hand landed on his hip and Jack stepped away from the contact. "I don't
want it."
"No ambition?" Tim tut-tutted annoyingly. "Surely you won't spend the rest of your life
in a classroom trying to educate the little monsters?" Tim moved closer, crowding Jack
into the window alcove, and once more he put his hand on Jack's hip, sliding it back
and down over Jack's buttock. That was the last straw. Then Jack looked up to see
Henry frowning at them from across the crowded room. Anger rose, and he balled his
hands into fists.
"Timothy," he said quietly. "If you don't take your hand off my arse in the next few
seconds, I will punch your lights out."
Tim started to laugh, but quickly reconsidered and backed off, raising his hands with a
placating smile. "Can't blame a man for trying. Come on, give me a break, Jack. I've
been keen on you for years. Why don't we—"
"Fuck off," Jack said succinctly. "Not interested."
Tim scowled. "You think he'll take you back? Not a chance, Bones. He's a high flyer
these days—got Don on his side, and Georgie's hot for him. Didn't you know he's bi?"
Jack pushed past him with enough force to rock Tim on his heels, and forged a path to
the buffet table. As usual it was laid out in sections of sweet and savoury. Inevitably,
artistic arrangements of salmon and of prawns featured strongly. Jack winced and
made a fast turn towards the door. It was time for a strategic retreat.
* * * *
Three months weren't anywhere near long enough for Henry to forget how stunning
Jack looked in a suit. Or in shabby tee-shirt and cut-offs. Or, even better, nothing at all.
The shock of seeing him was enough to distract him from trying once again to free
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himself from the girl who insisted on clinging to him as if he was some kind of trophy.
He'd known her too long to stand on any kind of ceremony.
"Georgie, let go of me for Christ's sake!" he hissed. "I am not your boyfriend!"
"Yet." Her smile was predatory.
"Not going to happen. Gay, remember?"
"Not the way I remember it." She smirked. "The den we made in the old willow tree?
Forgotten that, have you?"
"Wiped from my mind," he snapped. "The one and only time I met up with a girl's bits."
"We were twelve," Georgina pointed out. "It's probably time you tried it again, Hen."
"No." He reached past her and tapped his mum lightly on the arm. "Mum, did you
invite him?"
She turned with a fond smile. "Jack? Of course, dear. We thought it was time you two
actually talked to each other. This seemed like the ideal opportunity."
Involuntarily, Henry's gaze searched the room and homed in on Jack. He was over by
the far window, standing far too close to Tim.
"Damn it!" he growled, turned on his heel and headed for the door, shaking off Georgie
in the process.
"No, dear," he heard his mother say. "Let him go."
The study offered Henry a much needed haven, stacked though it was with scores of
coats, hats and scarves. Someone had provided a long rail on wheels, probably
borrowed from the village hall by the vicar. It and its solid wall of hanging coats made
the perfect barrier between his dad's favourite chair and the rest of the room. And the
door. Henry slumped into the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. God, I want
you back, love. But he didn't have the first idea how to go about it. Nor was he the only
one at fault. Six of one, half a dozen of the other...
The door opened and closed, and someone sighed. The coat rail moved, and, "Oh, shit."
Jack's voice, sounding tired and slightly broken. Henry sprang to his feet, facing his ex-
lover.
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"Sorry," Jack said before he could speak. "You're waiting for someone. I'll clear out of
your way."
"You're not in my way," Henry replied quickly. "Jack—"
"No? You sure you want the lowly primary school teacher hanging about while you
screw your boss's daughter?"
"No! I'm not—she isn't— Fuck you!" It was too much. Jack was too close, the scent of his
aftershave a subtle warmth in the air. Too familiar and necessary. Henry lunged
forward and cannoned into Jack. Their mouths met in a devouring kiss, full of heat,
hunger, and aching loneliness. But all too soon Jack stiff-armed him away.
"No, sod it!" he panted. "You don't have the right to do that any more!"
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Chapter 3 – Meredith Russell
Henry had no right. No right at all.
Jack stood breathlessly before Henry. Anger heated his face as he looked at the man he
had once called ‘love’. What the hell did Henry think he was doing? There was no
reason for Henry to invade his space. No reason for his warm, soft lips to lock with
Jack's in a passionate kiss. No reason. Not anymore.
"What the hell, Hen?" Distance seemed like the best idea right now. Turning on his heel,
he then made for the door.
"Jack, wait," Henry called after him.
Curiosity got the better of him, and with a frustrated sigh, he turned around and met
brilliant blue eyes he hadn't looked into for three months. Though Jack hated to admit
it, Tim had been right. There was something different about Henry. Months of working
under Parry had brought about an air of importance. The way he held himself, straight
and tall, and the slight tilt back of his head echoed his grand position on the surgical
team. He folded his arms and made sure to keep his distance. One kiss was quite
enough for their first encounter since September.
Henry cleared his throat as he rubbed at the spot where Jack had pushed him away. "I
didn't think you'd be here," he said.
"I didn't plan on being, but you know how my mother can be." Jack looked Henry up
and down. Why did he have to look so damn good? "If she'd told me before we'd made
it to the front door, I wouldn't have come." He unfolded his arms and curled his hand
against the pocket of his suit trousers. His fingers circled around the memory of the ring
box, and he tightened his fist against the burn of hurt and disappointment. This really
wasn't the evening he'd hoped for. In fact, he'd pretty much played the night out in his
head before they had even left the house—drunken middle-aged women, a collection of
terrible Christmas jumpers, and eating enough posh nibbles to sink the Parrys' luxury
sail boat.
"How have you been?" Henry asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had
settled between them.
Jack pressed his mouth in a line and shrugged. "Busy. I have a year six class this year so
lots to prep." Not that Henry cared. Too much work for too little money had always
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been Henry's opinion. "How's Birmingham?" He wasn't sure why he asked when he
was already sure he knew the answer.
"Good. Actually, great," Henry said far too enthusiastically for Jack's liking. Of course
he was doing great, probably off saving lives with one hand tied behind his back whilst
hopping on the spot.
Jack shook his head. He didn't want to feel like this again—the mix of envy and
inadequacy swirled around his head. "Look, I'm going to go," he decided. "I have stuff
to do."
"Jack," Henry said, but Jack raised his hand, shutting him up.
"Merry Christmas," he said and made his escape.
***
When Henry emerged from his hiding place, the last thing he needed was to be
confronted by his self-appointed stalker.
"Everything okay?" Georgina asked and narrowed her eyes as she settled her sight on
Jack on the other side of the room.
"Everything's fine," he said through a tightened jaw, trying to suppress the urge to snap
at her and tell her to fuck off.
Georgina leaned in close as she held her wine glass against her chest, sticking out her
breasts to exaggerate what little cleavage she had. "You were right to dump him, you
know. You could do so much better."
Henry tapped his fingers in an angry rhythm against his leg. His mum's Christmas
party was not the place to kick off at his boss's daughter. For one, he liked his job, and
two, his mum would never forgive him.
"Yeah. I just need to do something." He caught sight of his mother neatly rearranging
the plate of mini quiches. "Over there." The brush off sucked and he groaned inwardly
as he made his way toward his mother.
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"Oh, Henry, I wondered where you got to. Would you be a darling and get some more
bottles of fizz from the wine cellar?"
"Can Dad go?" Henry asked, looking along the long buffet table to where Jack seemed
to be making excuses to his parents. He was going to leave.
"Your father's stolen away to his shed with Father Clarkson. I need you to do it." She
had the look. The Emily Lewis look, and that wasn't something someone ignored. But
right now, Henry did his best to do so. He wanted out of there. Emotions reared inside
him and his pathetically patched up heart started to break again. He had often
wondered how he would feel if he saw Jack again and now he knew. He hurt like hell.
"Mum." He rested his hand on her shoulder and gently curled his fingers over the
shoulder pad in her bolero jacket. "I'm going to head off." He was prepared to play the
'I've surgery in the morning' card if he needed to. Even if this time it was a lie.
"It's still early." His mum looked incredibly disappointed and his resolve of just a
moment ago started to fail. "We haven't had the toast or served dessert. You can't leave
yet."
He cast his gaze towards Jack. Angela Hughes also had the look as she did her best to
stop her son from leaving the party early. He and Jack had often laughed about how
similar the two women were. Both were strong-willed, sure-headed, equally
competitive, and both very proud of their sons. He smiled as Jack looked wearily in his
direction and for a moment he felt the old, familiar connection between them.
"Henry?" His mum looked firmly up at him and he knew he wasn't going to win.
"Fine," he said. There was no point in arguing. "How many bottles do you want?"
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Chapter 4 - Lisa Worrall
Jack forced himself not to watch Henry leave and kept his gaze firmly trained on the
contents of the drink Tim had shoved into his hand. The unseen thread that had always
seemed to join them had been tugged longingly by the sweet smile the other man had
given him from across the room. Aren't you forgetting what he said? How he made you
feel? Thankfully, Jack wasn't able to give much rein to the mumblings of his inner voice
as he suddenly found himself face to face with Emily Lewis.
"Timothy, darling you don't mind if I steal Jack from you for a moment," Emily trilled,
pulling Jack away before the man could respond with a look that brooked no argument.
Emily guided Jack towards the fireplace and patted his arm. "Jack, sweetheart," Emily
leaned in and Jack pressed his lips to her cool cheek in a perfunctory kiss. "How are
you? Those delightful students of yours not running you ragged, I hope?"
"They try," Jack replied, hoping he sounded a lot more casual than he felt. "But I've
threatened to bring back the blackboard so I can throw the duster at them if they step
out of line. You're looking as beautiful as ever, Emily."
"You always were a charmer, Jack Hughes," Emily teased as she simpered at the
compliment, and then gripped his hand between both of hers. Jack swallowed in
anticipation of what she was about to say, desperately hoping it didn't involve anything
to do with him and Henry. "Speaking of which," she said. "Henry's disappeared for a
sulk and his father is in his shed with Father Clarkson to look at the seed catalogue,
apparently. I don't know why they just don't confess they're testing the elderberry wine,
but we must let them think they have their little secrets."
Jack's gaze widened as the woman he'd known practically all his life didn't even pause
for breath as she rambled on. He had always been fascinated by her ability to take him
on a magical mystery tour around the houses, and describing the ins and outs of a
duck's arse before she ever got to the bloody point. Of course, unknown to Emily he
had long ago managed to tune her out until she got to the vital information he needed—
just as he was doing now.
"So will you?"
Jack blinked owlishly, she'd obviously finished. "Will I what?" In the three months since
he'd seen her last, his technique had obviously got a little flabby as he'd missed the vital
information.
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"Fetch me some more wine, silly boy," Emily crooned. "Careful, Jack. You'll have me
thinking you don't listen to a word I say."
Oh shit, she knows. Jack shook his head and smiled to cover his embarrassment. "You
cut me to the quick, Emily. As if that would ever be possible." He knocked back the
remaining scotch in his glass and put it on the mantelpiece beside him, ignoring the
raised eyebrow he received at the placement. "How many bottles do you want?"
***
Henry stared at the rows of bottles before him in the wine cellar’s wall to ceiling racks,
without seeing a single one of them. With the taste of Jack still on his lips, he couldn't
concentrate on anything but his own idiocy. What the hell were they doing? Fighting off
the likes of Cruella de Ville and Porks Elliott, when they should be gazing into each
other's eyes as his mother made her annual toast about love, life and all that bollocks, as
they had last year.
Have you forgotten what you said? Or the look on his face when you said it?
He sighed heavily. No, of course he hadn't. He'd remember the hurt in Jack's eyes and
the cold determination as he'd packed his bag for the rest of his life. How the hell was
he supposed to make things right? He couldn't take back what he'd said. Couldn't
repair the damage his throwaway comment had caused. Hell, he couldn't even get Jack
to stay in the same room with him for more than five minutes before chaos descended.
After what happened… why would Jack even want him back?
"Score one to Emily."
Henry span on his heel and his gaze widened at the sight of Jack standing at the
bottom of the cellar steps, his arms folded across his chest. "What are you doing down
here?"
"Your mother sent me down for some more wine," Jack sneered. "Another ruse to get us
alone in the same place. She and my mother are probably up there congratulating each
other over the vol au vents." He ran a hand through his hair and a wry smile lifted his
lips. "I can't believe I fell for it."
When Jack turned to leave, Henry knew this was his only chance. Their mothers could
turn meddling into an Olympic event and any other time he'd have been pissed... but
maybe they weren't so far off the mark. "Don't go." The words came out on a rush of
breath and the wings of hope fluttered in his gut as Jack stilled. Staring at the stiff line
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of Jack's shoulders and taking in the clenched fists by his side, Henry finally said what
he should have said three months ago. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Jack said, his tone defeated. "For climbing so far up Donald Parry's bigoted
arse that you turned into him? For leaving me at home—alone—night after night while
you wined and dined your way around town with Georgina Parry on your arm instead
of me? For saying your job affects lives and how I couldn't possibly understand because
I'm only a ten-a-penny teacher? Or for being so blinded by your own ambition you
made me feel like a second rate citizen in my own life?" Jack still didn't turn around.
"So… which one is it that you're sorry for, Henry?"
Henry's heart ached at the pain in Jack's voice. He'd thought he couldn't possibly feel
any worse… until now. What was he sorry for? "All of them. I'm sorry for all of them."
Henry's breath caught in his throat and his voice broke as he whispered, "Please come
home."
Jack turned around.
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Chapter 5 – Sue Brown
Jack couldn’t miss the pain and longing in Henry’s eyes. The man looked devastated,
the newfound confidence stripped away, and what was left was… raw and vulnerable.
Jack wanted to step forward, and hug Henry close to him, promise to put him back
together until he was his Henry again. That’s what he wanted to do. But months of
resentment and three months of painful loneliness stopped him in his tracks. One
apology and a plea wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“Why should I? Has anything changed at all?”
“God, yes. I’ve changed, Jack. These past few months have been hell.” He ran his hand
through his hair, ruffling it out of place. “Coming home to an empty house. You’ve got
no idea.”
Jack just stared at him, unable to believe his ears. “No idea? I have no idea?” He shook
his head. “I don’t believe you said that to me. Henry, did you hear anything I just said?
I was on my own in that house for months before I grew a pair and actually left to get a
life of my own. You were either working or schmoozing. You were never there.” He
shut his mouth before anger overwhelmed him.
“I came home every night,” Henry protested. “It didn’t matter how late it was or how
early I had to work the next day, I came home.”
“I was in bed. When did I get to see you? When did we eat together? Go out together?
You spent more time with that bitch upstairs than you did with me.”
“That’s not true.”
But it was true. And Henry knew it. Jack watched as he slumped down onto a wooden
crate.
“I never meant to hurt you, Jack,” Henry whispered.
Jack shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s too late now.”
“Don’t say that. We can talk about it. Jack, I don’t want to lose you.”
“You lost me the day you said that you should marry Georgina. That was the moment I
realised your job was more important than me.” Jack shook his head. “I was so proud of
you. Even when we saw so little of each other whilst you were training. I knew my
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Henry was going to go all the way. I just thought I’d be the one by your side and in our
bed, not a woman. Not her.” He hated the way his voice cracked at the end.
Henry looked horrified. “She isn’t, we haven’t…. Not Georgie. I’m gay. You know I’m
gay.”
“Bisexual according to Porks.” Jack knew that Porks had been needling him, but he had
wondered the same thing over the past empty months.
“Bollocks.”
“It makes no difference now. I need to go.”
Jack turned to walk up the stairs but Henry leapt forward and grasped him around the
bicep.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Let go of me, Henry.” Jack tried to sound icy and calm but he was afraid it just
sounded needy.
“No.”
***
Jack tugged his arm to get free, but Henry hung on for dear life. No way was he letting
Jack walk out for a second time.
“Let. Me. Go.”
“No. Never again. I was so stupid, Jack.”
“At least we agree on one thing.”
Henry gritted his teeth, realising Jack wasn’t going to give him any leeway. “Sit down
here. Our mums want us to talk. If you walk out of here once we’ve talked then fine,
but I’m not spending Christmas listening to my mother chew my ear for not trying.”
He was pleased when Jack stopped resisting and let Henry manhandle him over to the
stool. Henry pushed Jack down and then knelt in front of him. Henry heard Jack’s
sudden intake of breath as he looked up at him.
“Jack, I will say sorry and keep saying sorry until you believe me.”
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“I believe you. You’re not a vindictive man, Henry.”
“Then why won’t you come home?” Henry reached for Jack’s hands, pleased when Jack
didn’t pull away.
“Because nothing has changed, love. You’re still going to be working or socialising to
improve your career.”
“I have to work, yes. But I am only going to functions as a couple.”
Jack tried to pull his hands away. “So what has changed? I’ll be at home and you’ll be
playing the happy normal couple”
“The only person by my side will be you. My happy normal gay partnership.”
“Don’t joke,” Jack said breathlessly, his eyes wide and hopeful.
Henry kissed the inside of Jack’s wrist, pleased with the moan, hastily bitten back. “I’m
not joking. If Sir Donald has problems with it, then I’ll look for another team.”
“You can’t do that. Working with Sir Donald was your dream.”
“You are my dream and my life. Everything else is unimportant. The last few months
have proved that.”
Jack stroked Henry’s hair. “There,” he said, almost absently. “It was out of place.”
Henry sat back on his heels, desperately waiting for Jack’s answer. He was prepared to
beg if necessary. Jack was not walking up those stairs without him.
“Yes.” Jack nodded. “I’ll come back, but only if things change. If you change.”
“I’m never going to let you out of my sight again,” Henry said, knowing how
unrealistic that was, but now was the time for love and passion, not cold, hard realism.
Henry pulled Jack into his arms, kissing him tenderly. Jack’s lips parted under his, the
kiss wet, open, and healing. He could feel Jack trembling and vowed to himself never to
hurt his love again.
They pulled back for air, and Jack smiled at him. “We’d better find our mothers before
they send out a search party.”
“I suppose we have to thank them,” Henry said.
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“You know they’re going to be insufferable now,” Jack said ruefully. “They’re never
going to let us forget it.”
“There you are, Henry. And with Jack.”
Henry cursed under his breath as he heard Georgina’s cool, sarcastic-laden voice, and
saw her coming down the stairs, treading carefully in her high heels.
“What do you want, Georgie?” he asked coldly, aware of the tension in Jack’s body.
“Your mother is looking for you, and I thought I was your guest.”
He eyed her with dislike, and deliberately took Jack into his arms. Jack resisted for a
moment then stepped into Henry’s embrace. “My mother invited you and I’m busy. Go
find Porks. He’ll look after you.”
Georgina tutted and shook her head. “You’re making a big mistake. Daddy won’t be
happy if he finds out you’ve gone queer again.”
Henry took a deep breath knowing he was probably about to detonate his career. “I’ve
always been queer. And if Sir Donald has a problem with my sexual orientation he can
take it up with the hospital’s administrators.”
Jack held him closer. “Henry, you don’t have to….”
Henry looked at his lover, seeing the concern for him in his eyes. “Yes, I do. I treated
you abominably this year.” He ignored Georgina stomping up the stairs as he tucked a
curl behind Jack’s ear. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Jack licked his lips. “Henry, this isn’t the right time and God knows, there are a million
better places but….”
“Yes?” Henry looked at him expectantly.
“Can I come home?”
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Chapter Six – S.A. Meade
Henry paused on the doorstep, his hand suspended just above the doorbell. “Do we
really have to be here?” He looked at Jack, hoping he’d say that he’d prefer to pop
down to the Bell and Whistle for pie and a pint.
“Sorry, my love. Tradition is tradition. You know neither of us would hear the end of it
if we turned around and headed home again.”
“But it’s snowing and home is warm and cosy.” Henry brushed an errant snowflake
from Jack’s hair. “And our bed is even warmer and cosier.”
“We have all of Christmas to take advantage of that bed.” Jack paused. “I hope. You’re
not on call are you?”
“Nope. Since I’ve agreed to be one of the groomsmen at Georgina’s wedding, I’m in her
father’s good books. I told you, I’m off until New Year’s Day and I intend to stay at
home with you.”
“Then we can deal with this. It’s only for an hour or two, right?”
Henry took a deep breath, braced himself for the onslaught of his mother’s party-
madness, and depressed the doorbell. He reached for Jack with his other hand, twining
his fingers through his. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
The door opened to a blast of warm air and perfume. “Oh darling, I’m so glad you’re
both here.”
Henry humoured his mother, letting himself be caught up in her embrace. “It’s great to
be here, Mum.”
Emily turned to Jack and hugged him. “Hello darling. It’s so lovely to see you. Come on
you two, the party’s in full swing, there’s plenty of food and drink.”
She hustled them into the hall and took their coats. Henry stared at the tree, as
impeccably and precisely decorated as usual, at the knots of chattering guests in the
lounge, clutching plates and glasses. Georgina held court in the corner by the drinks
cabinet, grasping her fiancé’s arm with the ferocity of a pit bull tugging at a bone. The
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poor man had the hunted look of someone who had a lifetime of social events mapped
out ahead of him. He wouldn’t be escaping to the pub any time soon.
“Go on.” Emily shooed them towards the food. “Go and help yourselves. I don’t want
to spend the next week or two eating leftovers and watching those prawns go off in the
fridge because your father won’t touch them after…you know.”
“Yes, mother dear.” Henry winked at Jack and dragged him towards the table which, as
usual, resembled a food porn centrefold from a culinary magazine. He picked up a
plate, then wondered, should he wait until after they’d eaten? Before the toast? Could
he eat anything? His stomach curdled with nerves.
Don’t be stupid. He loves you, you love him. Of course he’ll say ‘yes’.
He slid his hand into his pocket and curled his fingers around the small velvet box,
seeking comfort from the warmth and softness of the fabric, knowing that the simple,
gold symbol that represented their future rested inside. Nope, best to go with the
routine, food first, pick a moment afterwards.
“Prawn?” Jack grinned and held one of the offending crustaceans towards him.
“Sod off.” He waved it away.
“Well, I’ll have it, then.” Jack swept the prawn through the little cut glass bowl of
American style cocktail sauce.
Henry shuddered. He hated horseradish, he hated tomato sauce. Putting the two
together was an abomination. “I don’t know how you can. I hope you’re not going to
kiss me with that mouth.”
Jack laughed, then lowered his voice to a heated whisper. “I have every intention of
doing a lot more than kissing you with this mouth when we get home.”
Oh God. Henry adjusted his trousers to accommodate his sudden erection. The way
Jack then caressed that asparagus spear with his tongue… Jesus.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Jack’s voice was all innocence. His eyes—full of
heat and promise—told an entirely different story.
Henry gulped and reached blindly for a sausage roll. “I suppose I’d better.”
Jack laughed, leaned close and touched his lips with a kiss. “You’ll need to keep your
strength up for later.”
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“You have got to stop tormenting me or I’ll drag you down to the wine cellar.”
“Feel free.”
“Nope, I want you in bed, our bed.” He spooned some potato salad onto his plate. “So
no more teasing.”
“Spoilsport.” Jack helped himself to a handful of olives. “I’ll try to behave myself.”
****
Jack wished the whole evening was over. He sat beside Henry, who perched
precariously on the edge of the settee, and wanted them both to be home. Sometimes,
tradition was a pain in the arse. He plucked at an olive, relishing the saltiness. He
needed to remember to ask Mrs Lewis where she bought them. He’d have died happy
to sit down with a jar and a fork and work his way through the lot without stopping.
He stole a glance at Henry. His lover’s gaze was distant, as if he was staring into a
tangle of wool that he couldn’t quite figure out how to unravel. He’d been a bit like that
lately, given to long silences, while he gnawed at his bottom lip. There had been times
in the past few weeks where he’d wanted to ask what was wrong but he knew Henry
well enough to know that he’d tell Jack in his own sweet time.
“You all right?”
“What?” Henry turned towards him, holding a sausage roll in mid-air. “Yes, I’m fine. I
guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”
“Yeah, it has been.” Jack swept his hand down Henry’s back, welcoming the solid
warmth of it, the comfort of Henry just being. Knowing that he was his—hopefully
forever. “Let’s just sneak out. We wouldn’t be lying to your mother if we told her
you’ve been crazy busy. You deserve your rest.”
Henry set down his plate and offered him a weary smile. “I do, don’t I? So do you.
We’ve both been busy. All right. There’s just one thing I need to do first. Give me a
minute.” He stood up.
Jack watched him walk towards the middle of the room and grab an empty glass from a
side table. He pinged it with his forefinger, until it sang out. The chatter faded to
silence. Henry set the glass down and shoved his hands into his pocket.
What the fuck?
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Jack recognised all the signs of nerves—the bobbing Adam’s apple, the way Henry
shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the tight set of his jaw. Something inside
swooped and dove. Whatever Henry was about to do was going to be big and
unforgettable.
“Thank you. Now that I have your attention.” Henry cleared his throat. “I have
something I need to say.” He stared at Jack, a fire in his eyes. “As you all know, apart
from a brief hiccup, Jack and I have been together for quite a while. I’d really like us to
stay that way…forever.” He strode towards Jack, then dropped elegantly onto one
knee. “So I want to make it official.”
Jack lost every word and every thought. He saw the future shining in Henry’s eyes and
glinting off the ring his lover held before him.
“Marry me,” Henry whispered. “Make me yours.”
There was a muffled sob from somewhere. Jack wasn’t sure if it was Georgina finally
getting her reality check, Mrs Lewis or his own mother. He scanned the room for his
parents. Not that he needed their approval or anything, but their tearful smiles were
blessing enough. He took a deep breath and covered Henry’s hand with his. “Yes
please.”
The room filled with applause when he leant forward to kiss Henry. For a moment,
they were all there was, all there would be. No one else mattered, the past was done
with, the future was set in the band of gold Henry held before him. That was all he
would ever need.
The End.
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Read more about each author on their individual websites:
RJ Scott –
www.rjscott.co.uk
Chris Quinton -
http://chrisquinton.com
Meredith Russell -
http://meredithrussell.blogspot.co.uk/
Lisa Worrall -
http://lworrall.blogspot.com
Sue Brown -
http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/
S.A. Meade -
http://kestrelrising.blogspot.co.uk/