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He knew that.
Yet every time he tried, his chest locked solid around the idea.
“I did everything they asked,” he said eventually. “Took the leave. Sat through Occupational Health. Trauma counselling. Fitness reviews. Signed all the forms saying I was fit to come back.” A humourless breath escaped him. “Even moved away as was suggested by them. Started over. And somehow it’s still following me.”
Nigella let him breathe for a second before speaking again. “And I hate the thought of you up there carrying this on your own.”
“I’m not on my own.”
“No?”
Harrison said nothing.
“Harry…if there’s a chance to talk to someone, maybe you should. If not officially, then someone else. Someone like… a friend. A six-foot roofer who’s very competent with his hands kinda friend.”
Harrison picked up his pen again, tapping it on his desk. “There’s no point dragging anyone else into this.”
“Someone might want to be dragged into it. And I need not remind you what can happen when people stop talking altogether.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about him.
Chris had been the one who went quiet when things got bad. Retreating inward by degrees Harrison hadn’t properly recognised until it was too late. Closing doors softly. Sleeping on the sofa under the excuse that he didn’t want to wake Harrison before an early shift. Smiling just enough to make concern feel unreasonable.
Distancing himself one small step at a time.
And suddenly, with almost painful clarity, Harrison thought of Jake.
He did the opposite. Jake climbed directly into Harrison’s space whenever he wanted him there. Pressed against him in bed. Curled into his side afterwards. Reached for him without hesitation and looked at Harrison as though wanting someone close was the simplest thing in the world.
The contrast hurt.
Because Harrison liked it.
Far too fucking much.
But Jake already carried enough. Robyn. Teddy. Thirteen years of unanswered questions and the particular kind of grief coming from never knowing whether the person you loved was dead or alive. Harrison couldn’t pile Chris and Falcon and three years of guilt on top of that simply because Jake had become somewhere warm to put it.
And perhaps that was the problem.
Somewhere along the way, Jake had become somewhere Harrison wanted to put it.
He closed his eyes. “He already has enough going on.”
“Maybe. But I met the man for five minutes and even I could tell he looks at you as if you’ve personally hung the bloody moon. I think he’d rather decide for himself what he can handle.”
“It’s not about what he can handle.”
“Then what is it about?”
Harrison stared at the wedding band on his hand. “I spent twenty years believing I knew Chris better than anyone.” He let out a long breath, one that could well have been trapped inside him for years. “Slept beside him every night. Knew when he was angry before he said a word. Knew how he took his coffee, what would make him laugh when he was in a foul mood, what he’d order in every bloody restaurant we ever went into.” He moved his thumb across the ring. “And when it actually mattered, it turned out I didn’t know him at all.”
“Harry—”
“I didn’t know how bad it’d got. Didn’t know what he was thinking. I didn’t know what he was going to do.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know what it means.” He drew a breath and pressed his fingers against his brow.
