Page 112 of Worth the Wait
He looked away, then back. Swallowed hard. “Even when I hated you for leaving… I still loved you. I always will.”
Nathan ghosted a thumb across the back of his hand. “Then let’s not fuck it up this time. No army. No ghosts from the past. And definitely no organised gang criminals.”
Freddie let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to laughter. “Fucking deal.”
He kissed Nathan and let the rest of the world slip away. Because for the first time since Worthbridge had dragged him back, Nathan wasn’t running. And Freddie didn’t want them to hide anymore, either. What he wanted was to build something real. Something honest.
Not something worth waiting for. No. He’d had enough of waiting.
But something worthstayingfor.
Chapter twenty-two
Salt and Vinegar
One week later…
Saturday arrived with what could almost pass for a heatwave.
At least Worthbridge’s version of one.
The thick clouds had finally cleared, leaving behind a clean blue sky and a sun that actuallyfeltlike something. So by the time Alfie surfaced from his room around midday, bleary-eyed and dragging his hoodie sleeves over his hands, Nathan was already at the door, pulling on his jacket a little slower than usual.
“Fancy a walk down the seafront?” He opened the door to prove the weather was worth the stroll. “Take your board. We’ll swing by the skatepark.”
Alfie raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s wise?”
“I’ll be there.” Nathan gave him a pointed look.
“Yeah but you’re still in stitches.”
“I’ve been in worse conditions and still walked into hell fire. This is nothing.” He didn’t mention the tugging ache in his side when he moved too fast, or the way the stitches still pulled beneath the bandage if he twisted too far. No need to give the kid another excuse to stay in.
Alfie hesitated, then gave a small nod. Not quite a smile, but close enough.
“Alright. Let me grab my stuff.”
Nathan watched him go, pressing a palm to his side for a moment under the pretext of checking his phone. Just a dull throb today. Manageable. He sent a quick text, then tucked his mobile away when Alfie returned with his board.
They walked the long way, cutting through the park first. Past pensioners hunched on benches and toddlers tottering after pigeons, then along the promenade clinging to the edge of the bay. Alfie stayed a few paces ahead, his skateboard tucked under one arm, hood still up despite the sun. Nathan didn’t press for conversation. Not yet.
The sea was high and calm, and the briny tang on the air made everything feel a little cleaner somehow. Less complicated. It wasn’t quite summer, not the kind Nathan remembered, heavy with heat and thick with crowds. But Worthbridge was doing its best impression. Couples huddled in deckchairs with flasks and windbreakers. A dog zigzagged across the shingle, scattering gulls. Laughter spilled from the arcade like a familiar song.
For once, the town didn’t feel as if it was bracing for something.
It felt the way Nathan remembered.
Like home.
And Nathan breathed it in. Let the sun warm his back. And when the next wave of tightness curled through his side, he adjusted his stride, slow and even. Careful. Thewound was healing, but it hadn’t forgotten how it got there.
So he kept walking.
Because sitting still had never done him any favours.
They passed the skatepark and Alfie glanced towards it but didn’t veer that way. Nathan let it slide. He didn’t push. There’d be other days.
Eventually, Alfie slowed. “I’m starving.”
