Page 48 of The Other Side

“You nearly died.”

“It was part of the job.”

“No.” Osian’s fingers stilled in his hair until Drum looked up. His green eyes were dark with something between anger and grief. “It happened during the job. That’s different.”

No one had ever put it like that.

His old DI had congratulated him on surviving. The therapist had talked about resilience. Occupational Health had discussed reintegration—eventually. Everyone had spoken as though being kidnapped, stabbed, beaten and left for dead had been another operational hazard, like getting rained on during surveillance.

Not one person had ever suggested it shouldn’t have happened at all. Some had suggested it had been his fault.

Drum swallowed. “I still have nightmares.”

“That’s why you like the light on.”

Osian didn’t ask what they’d done to him. He simply tightened his arms. Drum closed his eyes. He wanted to tell him. Finally, a person he actually wanted to tell.

“They came to my flat. I think I knew it was all over the moment I opened the door but I still hoped I was wrong. I had maybe two minutes of trying to be normal before Ashford hit me so hard, I fell over. They beat me up. Cut the letter A into my chest. Ashford stabbed me using one of my kitchen knives. I thought they’d kill me but I was dragged outside and put in the boot of a car. I barely fit. I couldn’t move. I could hardly breathe. I passed out.” He paused for a moment. “I thought I’d died and then I came round to find I was in a warehouse. And I knew which one, and that saved my life. They hit me again and the next time I opened my eyes, the place was on fire.”

“Oh gods.” Osian looked horrified.

“I crawled. I knew the schematics of most of Ashford’s places. I knew there was a way out. If I could reach it. I managed to get down a manhole into a drain. A drainage culvert ran under the building. It was dark, there was a lot of water, and I was so scared.” He sucked in a breath. “I came up against bars. I had to turn and go back. I kept wondering if drowning would be better than being burnt to death.” His voice sounded oddly detached, as though he were describing something he’d read in a report. “I don’t remember much after that. Apparently, I washed up on a river bank and a dog walker found me close to death. I was lucky.”

“Oh, Drum.”

There was so much in those two words that his chest ached. Drum fought to hold himself together.

“When I could, I gave statements, identified people from photographs. Arrests were made. I was sent to a place to recover physically and mentally. I still have panic attacks sometimes. Flashes of PTSD. Ashford will go on trial eventually. I’ll have to give evidence unless he pleads guilty. He’s behind bars, claiming he’s innocent. He’s like an octopus with a lot of dangerous tentacles. Still powerful even in prison.”

Osian stared at him intently.

“Once I was fit, I thought I’d go back to work, just somewhere other than London. Hadn’t expected to be a PCSO.” He shrugged. “Officially it’s temporary. Unofficially…” Another shrug. “I think they maybe want me to leave the police.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. And now I find I’m not what I thought I was. You’ve turned my world upside down in a way I could never have imagined.”

Before fear could catch him, he reached up, cupped Osian’s face in both hands, and kissed him. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was everything Drum hadn’t dared hope for. Osian’s mouth opened and Drum deepened the kiss. Boyhood friends and now so much more.

When they finally broke apart, Osian sighed. “There you are,” he whispered.

Drum smiled—a real smile, one that came all the way from his heart. “Here I am.”

Chapter Nine

The kiss had made Osian’s heart hammer against his ribs so violently he was surprised Drum couldn’t hear it.

“What did you cook?” Drum asked, breaking the sudden, heavy silence. “Something smells good.”

Osian let out a breathless laugh. “You’re hungry?”

“I’m nervous.”

But you kissed me! You were the brave one. A sudden wave of protective anxiety washed over him. He pushed to his feet, needing the physical distraction. “Why don’t you take a shower? The food will be ready by the time you’re done.”

Drum nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll go up and get a change of clothes.”

As Drum walked away, Osian tracked his movements. Was Drum looking at him differently now? It felt like it. The air between them had shifted. Osian understood just how dramatically he’d turned Drum’s world upside down. Listening to Drum recount how he’d almost died had brought physical pain to Osian’s chest. He wanted Drum safe. Safe from Jackson Ashford, safe from the colleagues who didn’t treat him with a shred of respect, and utterly safe from Belem. Osian swallowed hard, gripping the kitchen counter until his knuckles turned white.