When I leave Dom in the coffee shop, I feel slightly better. It’s nice to see him so happy when he talks about Brigid. It’s weird too, though. I never thought I’d see him so head over heels for anyone. He’s got it bad if he’s putting up with all this stuff for a wedding. For someone who seems so no nonsense, Brigid is definitely going all out with the wedding.
In a weird way, I’m almost looking forward to it. They just look so happy together, and—
“Jude,” someone calls from behind me as I’m getting off my bike. Even though I haven’t heard the voice in nine years, I’d know it anywhere.
Despite my mind telling me not to, I turn to face Grant. He’s older, gray hair in his beard now. The years haven’t been kind to him. Where did he go after he lost his license to teach?
“Come here.” His voice is still as commanding as always, and even though I’m not a kid anymore, I barely hesitate before I obey. I cross the gravel lot and come to stand in front of him, where he’s leaning against an old, beaten Honda.
He smiles at me. “You’ve grown.”
I don’t say anything. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I want to get out of here. I want to be in my hotel room with the doors locked. I want to be with Rowan.
“What’re you doing back here?” Grant asks, his gaze sliding over me. It makes me feel dirty. Disgust curls in my stomach, and I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket to hide their trembling.
Grant shoves off from the car to get into my face. “I asked you a question, boy.”
“V-Visiting.” I hate my voice for shaking. I hate myself for not walking away. But it’s as though my legs can’t move. I’m back in that classroom, and I have to do what Grant says or someone’s going to get hurt.
Grant drops a hand to rest possessively on my hip. He used to touch me there all the time. He used to touch me everywhere all the time.
My eyes burn, but I refuse to let them fill with tears. I never cried in front of him before, and I’m not about to do it now.
Grant slides his fingers until they’re resting on my bare skin, up underneath my T-shirt. I can’t do anything but stand there and let him do it. My throat is so tight that it feels as though I’m choking. All those horrible days in the classroom, in his car… They flood my mind until Grant is all I see.
He leans close, placing his lips near my ear. “I was glad to hear you were back in town. You took off without even saying goodbye.”
“I’m sorry.” The apology slips from my tongue even though I try to hang onto it. But it’s as though my body’s responding on its own, without any say from me. Maybe it’s just trying to keep me from getting hurt. Because whenever I disobeyed Grant, it always led to pain.
“You’re not,” Grant whispers, his mouth still on my ear. He bites lightly on the lobe, and I just let him. I don’t pull away or wince. I don’t even make a noise.
Grant lets out a breath, and it coasts over my skin. “I thought we had something special, Jude. But you left.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
His fingers dig into my hip. “You’re not.” His voice turns dark, and he pulls back enough for me to see the anger flashing in his eyes. “You always were a fucking tease.”
I don’t respond. My mouth doesn’t seem to know how to form words other than a third apology, but I’m afraid that would only make him angrier.
A car horn blares, and it’s like breaking a spell. Grant pulls back, releases my hip. “Go on up to your room, Jude. I’ll see you later.”
And like always, I turn and obey him.
Ten
Max
I text Jude shortly after I wake up, but I don’t get a response from him. I try not to let it dampen my mood as I get ready for lunch. We had a good time last night. I’m sure he’ll get in touch when he’s ready.
That line of thinking doesn’t stop me from checking my phone repeatedly on the walk to the deli a few blocks past my bar. For just a breath, I consider skipping in case Jude calls. But I dismiss the idea immediately.
These monthly lunches have been going on for two years. I’m not about to stop now.
When I pull open the door to the deli, I’m hit with the scent of chicken and roast beef and freshly cut onions. Just like it is when I come here on the final Saturday of every month.
Gary, Juan, and Lacey are already at a table near the back, dressed in plainclothes instead of their firefighter uniforms.
Gary whoops when I come in the door, and Juan stands to hug me. They were Patrick’s best friends, and most days, they feel like the only people who really get how much I miss him.
