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And Jamie believed it, relief flooding through him as he pathetically fell forward onto Chris, his knees weak as he grabbed at the front of his jacket. Chris wrapped his arms around him and tightly held him, supporting Jamie’s weight until he could get a grip on himself, soothingly stroking his back as dry sobs racked through him, leaving his body shaking.
“Fucking hell, Jamie,” Chris whispered into his hair. “What did he do to you?”
Jamie clung onto Chris for dear life, like he was the only thing keeping Jamie from drowning.
“Not now, Chris,” he mumbled into his shoulder. “I can’t tell you right now.”
“Okay…okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Jamie held on for a few more minutes before he felt like he could stand on his own. His fists unclenched from Chris’s jacket, and he took a step back, letting out a final shaky breath. “Do you think Aunt Helen would let me go home?” he asked with a weak smile.
“I’ll send Ryan to tell her,” Chris replied. “Gregg can get the car to take us back to the chopper.”
“Okay…” Jamie breathed as Chris unlocked the bathroom door and called out to the other agents. Jamie turned on the cold tap and splashed the water over his heated face. Coming out with Aunt Helen had been a bad idea.
Chapter 13
Thankfully, Helen Barratt left the Met with them, acutely aware of just how upset her nephew was. Chris watched as Jamie allowed himself to be pulled into her lap once they were safely behind the tinted glass of the limo, his arms tightly wrapped around her waist as she tenderly stroked a perfectly manicured hand over his hair. Jamie’s eyes closed, and after a moment, he visibly stopped shaking. He looked like a child, frightened and vulnerable in her arms, and Chris realized right then what his true job was.
He was sitting in the back with Agent Gregg whilst Agent Ryan was in the front with Helen’s driver. They were party to this small meltdown from the son of the world’s most powerful woman—if even one of them mentioned a word of it to the wrong ear, it could destroy the whole country. Worse than that, it could destroy Jamie. Chris knew he would die before he’d let that happen.
Chris didn’t realize that he’d been staring until Aunt Helen spoke.
“He used to do this just after his dad died,” she said softly. Chris glanced up to find her acute blue gaze on him—Jamie looked more like her than he did his mother. “He was a kid who barely knew how to speak, and he just had no idea why everybody was so sad. Didn’t understand whatdeadmeant. He spent a lot of time just curled up on my knee like this.”
Chris said nothing, a little unsure about this line of conversation. She was talking directly to him, not to Gregg, who was sitting still and stoic beside him. Maybe she’d seen the genuine concern on Chris’s face.
After a moment, Helen smiled. “He’ll be fine. Bounces back like a rubber ball, this one.”
“I’m still in the room, Aunt Helen,” Jamie mumbled, cracking one eye open and giving Chris a weak smile.
“We’re in the car, you dipshit,” she replied fondly.
* * * *
Helen didn’t insist on coming back to the Barratt home once they’d landed—she just waved them into the car and told Chris to take good care of her nephew. Something in her voice threw Chris off a little, almost like she knew. But there was no way that she could.
Jamie practically fell onto the excited Labrador, who was waiting for them when they got in, dropping to his knees and hugging him tight as Chris locked up and alarmed the house, radioing in his update before removing his earpiece and placing it on the small maplewood table by the door.
He waited, patiently standing there until Jamie realized that he was still in the room, a million and one thoughts running through his head.
“Are you okay?” Chris murmured eventually.
Jamie inhaled deeply. “Yeah,” he huffed, disentangling himself from Boomer and getting to his feet. He ran his hand through his already messed-up hair as he turned to face Chris, giving him a small smile. “I’ll live.”
“Do you…want to talk about it?” Chris ventured.
“No,” Jamie replied quickly—a little too quickly. He drew a deep breath and stepped up close to Chris, loosely winding his arms around Chris’s neck. “Not today.”
“Okay,” he said quietly, his hands finding Jamie’s waist and firmly holding on, just above the jut of his hipbones. Jamie sighed, his eyes closing as he rested his forehead against Chris’s chin.
“I will,” Jamie murmured. “At some point. Just not…”
“Today,” Chris finished. “I know. It’s okay—you don’t have to tell me ever, if you don’t want. I’m not going to push you.”
Jamie huffed a small laugh, his hair tickling the underside of Chris’s chin as he shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Roberts. Where have you been my whole life?”
Chris smiled and ran his hands up Jamie’s sides, applying just the smallest amount of pressure. “Brooklyn, remember? I was a few miles away the whole time, you just never noticed.”
