Charlie smiled. “Of course. You learn more about someone over a slice of cake than across the sights of a weapon.”
“It would have to be chocolate cake,” Joe said.
Both Charlie and Kaden laughed at that.
Kaden and Charlie had a game of chess after dinner and Joe sat next to Kaden. He knew about chess, knew Kaden liked playing with his dad. Joe watched carefully. Chess wasn’t a matter of luck but strategy and Joe had spotted that Kaden had already made an error. Then he made another and the game was lost.
“Four moves back you should have moved your bishop and not your rook,” Joe said.
Kaden gaped at him.
“He’s right,” Charlie said. “Like a game, Jalis?”
“Yes, please.”
Joe played fast. He wished Charlie played fast too but he didn’t. It made no difference. Joe won all four games.
“Wow,” Kaden said. “Who taught you to play?”
“You two did.” Joe curled his toes in his shoes.I shouldn’t have said that.
Charlie laughed. “Oh dear. I think you should be teaching Kaden.”
They put the chess set away and watched something about Pompeii on the TV. Joe was fascinated. He’d love to go there and wondered if he’d ever get the chance.
Finally, Kaden pushed to his feet. “Time for bed. I’m heading back to London tomorrow. I need my laptop. There might bethings I’m supposed to have done or should be doing. I’ll take Jalis with me. He needs to claim asylum.”
Charlie looked between them and Joe could see he wasn’t happy, but he didn’t say anything. Joe understood Charlie’s desperation that nothing happen to his son, that Joe not hurt him.I won’t.
The worst had already happened to Kaden. An alien had forced its way into his body, then forced its way out and Joe still wasn’t sure how Kaden would react when he remembered that. But Joe couldn’t bear the idea of a life without him.
15
Kaden’s throat had healed. There seemed no point in a follow-up appointment at the hospital, so he cancelled it. He hoped the police didn’t call again. It wouldn’t be good for Jalis to be caught up in anything. Though he hadn’t forgotten Jalis had said the injury was his fault. Until he remembered, Kaden wanted him close because there was no way this gentle guy had deliberately hurt him.
They sat on the train back to London, their thighs pressed together, and when Jalis fell asleep and his head dropped to Kaden’s shoulder, it had felt sorightthat Kaden’s heart had twisted in his chest. He’d become used to Harris’ harshness and being with someone…soft, made him reevaluate what he wanted in a boyfriend. Jalis was interested in everything. Harris was only interested in himself. Jalis was lightness and curiosity. Harris was the opposite, unless it had something to do with microbiology or biochemistry. But then Jalis had broken Harris’ nose. So not always gentle. Even though he’d done it to protect Kaden.
Kaden eased his phone from his pocket without waking him and searchedapplying for asylum UK. He knew a fair amount already from watching the news—enough to be aware that recent rules mattered. Apparently, if Jalis went to a police station, they’d take his fingerprints, photograph and ask difficult questions. Then they’d refer him to the Home Office’s Asylum Intake Unit in Croydon. So Jalis might as well go straight there, but not without booking. Now Kaden had to delete his search, just in case.
Jalis didn’t need an interpreter, but Kaden could stay with him anyway—pretend to translate, or maybe act as a support person. They’d need proof of address. The letter. The bill in Kaden’s name. Evidence that Jalis was welcome, wanted andsafe. Kaden would provide a roof over his head but if he couldn’t afford to feed him too, Jalis could claim a subsidy from the government. Kaden assumed they must have discussed all this, but… Where was he from if not from Afghanistan?
He looked upwhere in the world is Pashto spoken.The answer was Afghanistan, Pakistan, the UAE, Iran, Tajikistan and India. But if it was one of those places, why not tell him? If Jalis didn’t say the right thing to the authorities, he might not be allowed to go home with him.
Kaden sent a message to one of his contacts about an article to do with fossil hunting, either as an activity with kids or maybe an unusual first date. His heart gave a little thump. He replied to a few emails, nudged two people who still hadn’t paid him for work he’d done, including the day-in-the-life article that he didn’t remember writing though he had an email receipt from the newspaper, and also arranged to see Alistair. Alistair had messaged him about his amnesia and Kaden had reassured him he was fine. Though he wasn’t. Not yet.
While he was online, a response landed in his inbox from Hoopers, a comedy club in London where he’d applied for a slot. They were offering him a place on the open mic night next week. If he got lucky, a booker might be in. If he gotreallylucky, things might finally start to tilt in his favour. Regular bookings meant regular income and he could rent a place big enough for the two of them. He swallowed hard.
Jalis exhaled and burrowed closer.
Kaden found it hard to believe he couldn’t remember him because Jalis was unforgettable with his scruffy hair, flawless skin and thick, dark eyelashes. He let himself look, properly, while he could. Not a freckle marred his skin. Nothing. Did he not even need to shave?
“Stop staring at me,” Jalis murmured.
Kaden chuckled.
Jalis opened his eyes and gazed at him with such unnerving focus that Kaden’s smile faded. He didn’t need to glance around to know they were alone in that small bubble of carriage space. Jalis seemed so familiar and yet Kaden couldn’t remember. He lifted a hand and traced the line of Jalis’ jaw. Brushed one finger across his mouth. His lips parted and Kaden’s finger slipped just inside, feeling the warmth of his tongue. When Jalis sucked gently, Kaden’s breathing faltered.
Jalis released his finger, licked his lips and smiled. “Hello.”
