Rhys spoke with a smile, but the shadows in his eyes were plain to see.Hardto see. Jevon couldn’t bear it. He held out his hand. “Let’s go eat.”
Efe joined them for dinner, making good on her promise to bring them all the patties and jam tarts they could eat and setting up an impromptu staff picnic round the back by the main bread ovens.
Bakers trickled in to join them.
“It’s like being in the engine room of the Titanic,” Rhys whispered to Jevon. “If they had coal on their faces instead of flour.”
Jevon laughed. “Trust me. There’s nothing sinking about this ship. Efe’s been voted London’s top artisan baker three years running.”
Efe elbowed Jevon in the ribs. “Shush. I want Rhys to think I’m humble.”
It was hard to imagine that Rhys would think any different as they camped out on the bakery floor, sharing food she’d prepared with her own hands. And his smile said as much. “Let him talk you up, luv. Then you can return the favour.”
Sneaky git. It was as if he’d known that Efe had a gazillion stories to tell about Jevon’s awkward childhood.
“Honestly,” Efe said on her third go around. “You could’ve heard a pin drop in that church, and this young one comes screaming in because he’s poured gravy on his ice cream instead of chocolate sauce.”
Rhys laughed. “Did he ever get over it?”
Efe took a breath to respond, but Jevon clamped a hand over her mouth. “God, make it stop. I’ve got plenty of stories about you, girl. Don’t make me break open the vault.”
Still laughing, Efe wriggled out of Jevon’s grip. “You wouldn’t dare. Who’d feed you? Give you a bed for the night in the city?”
“I would.” Rhys reached for another tart. “But he’d be a fool to give up on this jam sorcery you’ve got going on, so I don’t reckon he’s gonna talk.”
Jevon mock-glared at both of them, then excused himself to the bathroom. When he came back, Efe and Rhys were alone, only empty trays and crumbs left to show for the feast Efe had brought with her. Rhys was still laughing, but Jevon sensed the shift in his already forced mood. Absorbed it. Made it his own.
He caught Efe’s gaze and she took the hint, bending to whisper something in Rhys’s ear before she hugged them both, lingering a little with her embrace for Jevon while Rhys slipped away to give them a moment.
“I can’t believe you’re going already,” she said. “It feels like you’ve barely been home.”
“Where’s home, cuz? It’s not Bedford, and it’s not kipping on your couch.”
“Is it over there, though, J? Because I don’t like the vibe coming off you right now. It’s like you don’t want to go.”
Jevon shrugged helplessly. “I do want to go—Ihaveto go—but it’s so hard this time. I’ve never felt like this before.”
“You mean how you feel about Rhys?”
Jevon nodded, the ability to verbalise the chaos in his heart fast becoming thin on the ground. “I’ve been pretending it’s not really happening these last few weeks, but—shit. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it.”
“Think he feels the same?” Efe nodded without waiting for Jevon’s answer. “Of course he does. He’s a tough one, that boy, but even he can’t hide how sweet he is on you. There must be a way?”
If there was, Jevon hadn’t thought of it yet. He hugged Efe close, kissed her cheek, and pulled away. “I guess we’ll either do the long distance thing or call it a day. And right now, I don’t know which is worse.”
“They both suck,” Efe said. “But maybe you need to think bigger picture? Life evolves, man. So can you.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve run out of rope. I’m heading out in the morning, and I don’t want to waste the time we’ve got left hashing out something that hurts whichever way we turn.”
“So you’re going with denial?”
“Pretty much.”
Jevon kissed Efe one more time, promised to eat all the vegetables he could find in a sodden refugee camp, then made his escape. Rhys was waiting in the bus stop, thumbing through his phone. He glanced up when he heard Jevon coming, and the gradual detachment was already there. They’d known each other a matter of months, but Jevon knew what he was doing: cutting the strings before circumstances did it for him. Shutting down. Shutting the gates. Five minutes on his own and he was already a million miles away. What would he be like after three months?
Panic seized Jevon’s chest. In the cocoon of the warm bakery, denial had seemed the safest option, but as he stared at Rhys, he realised how wrong he’d been. Pain was part of living, and fuck if the short time he’d spent with Rhys hadn’t made him more alive than he’d ever been. And there was still more. There had to be.
Jevon yanked Rhys to his feet, startling some light into his dark, dark eyes. “Take me home.”