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Reality, apparently, had impeccable timing.

“So?” Teddy snapped back. “I’ll talk while you get dressed. Won’t make you late or owt. It’s Gran. She’s been crying all night and Gramps is …well, he int really there.”

Jake inhaled, clearly torn clean down the middle.

Then Teddy said, “You got someone in there?”

Jake winced, then stuttered out the sheepish, “Aye.”

Teddy grunted, “Right.”

Harrison felt the heavy footsteps retreating along the metal balcony outside.

“Fuck.” Jake turned back into the room and waggled his fingers at Harrison. “Keys. Now.”

Harrison grabbed them from the counter and tossed them over. Jake caught them one-handed then yelled through the door,

“Oi, Ted, mate, go wait in the van.” He chucked the keys out the door then shut it with a grimace.

Harrison rubbed his forehead. “You should let him in.”

Jake whipped off the towel and rummaged around for underwear, then dragged on work trousers. “And have the whole of Hartswick Academy finding out Robyn Whitton’s brother is sleeping with the new DI?”

Harrison went quiet. Because there was reality again. The thing that kept forcing itself between them no matter how soft the moments in bed felt.

Jake tugged a hoodie over his head, rummaged through the clutter on the kitchen counter, then crossed back to Harrison and dropped a key into his palm.

“Lock up when you leave.”

Harrison stared down at it.

And before he could decide whether there was anything significant about that—or whether Jake had even meant there to be—Jake leaned in, kissed the side of his neck, grabbed his work bag from beside the amp and headed for the door.

Then he was gone.

Harrison wandered over to the small kitchen window and looked down onto the street. A moment later, Jake appeared below, taking the last few steps two at a time before jogging across to the van where Teddy was waiting. He climbed in, said something that made Teddy turn towards him, then pulled away from the kerb and disappeared down the road.

Harrison stayed at the window long after the van had gone, fiddling with the key in his hand. It was just something to lock the door with. So Harrison didn’t have to come out now and be seen by Teddy.

Nothing more than that.

Harrison closed his fingers around it.

* * * *

Within the hour, Harrison was back at the station.

He’d showered at Jake’s rather than wasting time driving home first, leaving his ripped shirt and damp suit behind to dress in the spare suit he kept in the car—one of many habits learned from years of policing bleeding from one day into the next.

Now he sat behind his desk, hair still damp, cold at the nape of his neck, and beneath the clean lines of fresh fabric and soap, something far less professional lingered.

Jake.

Stubborn. Unmistakable. Clinging to his skin in a way that made it impossible to forget where he’d been. Or who he’d been with.

The incident room hummed when he arrived. Phones ringing. Officers carrying coffees and paperwork between desks. The whiteboards now updated with Lauren Pike’s name where Jane Doe had sat yesterday. That changed things. An unidentified body was a tragedy. A named victim became a life. A timeline.

A world of people suddenly connected to the investigation.