Page 92 of Too Close To Home

“Yes, Jake. I understand the distinction.”

“Good.”

Harrison took another drink, mostly to conceal the fact that he was enjoying this conversation far more than he should.

Jake eyed him for another second. “So, like I said. Not currently sleeping with anyone.”

There was something pointed about the way he said it this time. Something that made Harrison wonder whether the information had ever been intended for the investigation at all.

It was entirely irrelevant.

Completely unnecessary.

And, irritatingly, rather nice to know.

Harrison reached inside his jacket for his notebook before his face had the opportunity to reveal any of that. He made a few notes about Brodie. Why he might have lied. His connection to Mitchell. The fact Jake believed he would know him. He did not make a note of Jake Whitton’s current sexual availability.

Some things didn’t belong in an investigation log.

When Harrison looked up again, Jake appeared to be on the verge of saying something else, but a holler from behind cut him off.

“Jake!”

Jake twisted round as Deacon, crouched by the drum kit, waved him over, pointing at the tangled cables.

“Sorry.” Jake glanced back at Harrison with an apologetic half-smile. “Neglecting duties. Pack down. One day we’ll have roadies.”

Harrison nodded. “One day.”

Jake pushed up from the stool. Then stopped. “Do you… uh, want a lift home?”

The offer could mean nothing. Probably was nothing. A genuine offer from someone who knew Harrison was new to town and had just watched him drink a pint without a car anywhere in sight. Small-town kindness. The sort of kindness someone should have offered Emily Fisher on Wednesday night.

And there it was.

Reality cutting straight back through everything else.

He pushed up from the stool and buttoned his coat. “I’m going to take a walk. Got a few things to…” He waved a hand around his head. “Think through.”

Jake frowned. “You sure? On this town’s track record?”

“I’m police. It’s highly unlikely anything’s going to happen to me while walking home.”

Jake held his gaze. “Still gonna make me worry about you.”

The sincerity of that caught Harrison completely unprepared, and he couldn’t have prevented the gut-reaction to it if he tried.

“Told you, Harry. You like him.”

But then Brodie’s earlier comment came back to him. Jake’s got a history with a lot of men. Jake himself, only minutes ago: Slept with him, aye. No sleeping. And there was the stranger Harrison had spent half a day tracking down because Jake had gone home with him on Wednesday night without so much as learning his name.

Not currently sleeping with anyone.

Jake had made sure Harrison knew that too.

There was nothing wrong with any of it. Harrison wasn’t judging him for it. But it told him something important. Jake could separate sex from everything that came after.

Harrison couldn’t.