Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
Worth the Wait
By C F White

Worth It, Book 1

It was never over. It was just waiting.

Nathan Carter didn’t return to Worthbridge looking for a second chance. He came back for a roof over his head, a job that pays, and maybe, if he’s lucky, a way to connect with the teenage son he’s barely known. Life in the army taught him how to survive, but not how to be a father… and definitely not how to live with the choices he made the day he walked away from everything. Including Freddie Webb.

PC Freddie Webb never left Worthbridge. Not the town. Not the ghosts. Steady, dependable, the man everyone trusts to hold the line when things fall apart, he’s spent years keeping his head down and his heart locked up tight. But all that control shatters the moment a routine arrest throws him face to face with the boy he once loved… and the son that boy now has.

What started between them as teenagers was messy, intense, and unforgettable. Sixteen years later, it’s no less complicated. Eespecially with Alfie, Nathan’s angry, guarded son, caught between them and already spiralling toward trouble.

As old desires resurface and old wounds reopen, Nathan and Freddie are pulled back into each other’s orbit. But with the whole town watching, tensions rising, and the past refusing to stay buried, they’ll have to decide: play it safe… or risk everything for the love they never got to finish.

Because in Worthbridge, the past never stays buried.

And some loves are worth every second of the wait.

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Exclusive Excerpt:

Nathan got to work yanking the Corsa’s bonnet up and half-buried his body in the engine’s guts, wrenching the belt housing open, knocking his knuckles into bolts, the sting of old scars flaring where the skin still hadn’t fully healed. He’d almost buried his thoughts in grease when a car with the distinctive whine-thud-whine of something that wasn’t happy caught his attention. So he slid out from under the bonnet, wiping his hands on a rag that was more oil than cloth, smearing grease up his forearms as he watched the car roll into the forecourt.

Red Peugeot.

Like the one that had been outside his house yesterday.

Paint dulled with age, exhaust coughing gently, the driver’s door opened, and Nathan’s heart gave a traitorous kick in his chest when out stepped Freddie Webb.

No uniform now. No badge in sight. It was all figure-hugging jeans, a dark jumper clinging to a trim physique, and a fitted jacket stressing his now broader frame, and hair that was both a mess and perfectly styled. It was the look that said I didn’t try, but meant I absolutely did.

Then those eyes, warm, dark, honest, landed on him.

Nathan swallowed. Hard. And didn’t have time to get his game face on.

Because it still felt as absolutely devastating as it was the day Nathan had stood in Freddie’s bedroom and uttered the words, “I’m leaving.” And Freddie had hit him.

“Hey.” Freddie spoke first, voice low, uneven, as if it tripped over itself on the way out.

It wasn’t the confident, sharp-tongued Freddie Nathan remembered. Wasn’t even the version that used to laugh loudest at his own jokes. Nor the professional policeman of yesterday who’d arrested his kid. No. He was… cautious. Stripped back. So different from the way they used to speak. Talking over each other, racing to fill the air, as if silence between them was some kind of sin.

Nathan inhaled, letting the icy sting of the garage hit his lungs before he tossed the greasy rag over his shoulder and managed a, “Hi.”

Not nearly enough.

Freddie gave an awkward laugh, running a hand through his already-dishevelled hair. His mouth twisted as if he was fighting with himself. Then he glanced back at the Peugeot and gestured vaguely. “It’s, uh… making a noise. Rattling or knocking or something. I was passing and thought I’d bring it in for Ron to take a look at. Didn’t know you’d be here.”

Nathan arched a brow, but didn’t call it. He didn’t need to.

Lie. Clear as day. They both knew it.

“Right.” Nathan scratched through the stubble on his buzzed scalp. An old nervous tic. One Freddie probably remembered, and he stepped forward, instinctively closing the distance, but immediately regretting it.

Freddie smelt the same. Not exactly. Less Lynx Africa, more grown-up aftershave with a woody finish clinging to his clothes as if he’d just left his house. Nathan had to shift past him, brushing his shoulder to get around to the car, and the contact sent a jolt down his spine as if his body hadn’t got the memo that they were no longer that.

“I’ll, uh… take a look.”

He crouched beside the Peugeot, listening to the engine idle. The knock Freddie mentioned was faint, but there. He popped the bonnet and braced it open. The engine block was already warm from the drive, ticking quietly to itself. Nathan reached for a small torch on the tool trolley and angled it inside.

He’d start by checking the obvious: loose spark plug leads, coil pack issues, maybe a cracked ignition coil. The knock could be detonation. Maybe timing off, or a worn engine mount letting the block shift slightly under strain. If it wasn’t mechanical, it could be as simple as low-grade fuel or a dodgy sensor.

But none of that was the issue Nathan was dealing with right then.

Not really.

The real problem stood behind him, hands in his pockets, pretending not to look at him while Nathan was trying to remember how to breathe.

So yeah.

He could check the car.

But he already knew he was the one who was about to fall apart.

“So… you’re back?” Freddie hovered beside the car, as if he wanted to be closer but didn’t trust himself with the distance.

Nathan kept his eyes fixed on the engine bay. “Yeah.”

“How come?”

This time, Nathan looked up.

And fuck, that hit him harder than it should’ve. Freddie’s eyes, familiar and tired in a way that made Nathan ache. He wanted to tell him everything. Every damn thing. From the moment he boarded that bus at eighteen with his whole life packed into a green duffel, to every broken promise, every compromise, every time he stared at a photo of Alfie and wondered who he was becoming while Nathan was halfway across the world and pretending he wasn’t a father.

He wanted to say it all. To spill the truth into the quiet space between them and watch Freddie catch it with the same gentle steadiness he always used to. He wanted that look—that smile—the one that had made him feel as if he were King of the World and could take on anything. But fifteen years was a long fucking time.