I stare at him, certain I misheard him. “What? What the fuck are you talking about? We’re not getting back in there until we’re done talking.”
“Well, I’m done talking.”
“Well, I’m not.” I shove a hand through my hair as I try to pull my thoughts together. “What happened just now, was that the first time you tried to take it since Grant?”
His jaw clenches again, and he doesn’t say anything. But his silence is answer enough.
“Why would you do that?” I check my voice to make sure I don’t shout. The anger is clogging my veins. I feel like he tried to use me when he should’ve warned me first.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’m the one you chose to do it with, so I think it’s my business.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Jude replies. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t do it right.”
I slam my fist on the nightstand, and Jude startles. It’s enough to snap him out of the attitude.
“Stop fucking lying to me.” I don’t care if I’m yelling now. I want him to hear how pissed I am. I want him to know it’s not okay to fuck like this with people.
“What do you want to hear?” Jude demands. “You want to hear that I haven’t let anyone inside me since Grant forced himself in? You want to hear that he’s been trying to get at me since I came back to Brooklyn? You want to hear that he almost did last night? That he pinned me down and got his hand—”
He cuts himself off when his voice wavers, and it’s enough to dim my anger. He did something stupid, but he’s scared. He was trying to find a safe place, and he wanted that place to be me.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You didn’t do it.”
“No, I’m sorry for tonight. I knew when you got here that you were upset, and I let you talk me into doing this anyway.”
Jude bristles at the apology, but he doesn’t yell again.
“Tell me about last night.”
“No, I can’t. It was my fault. And I don’t want you to hear that stuff.”
“Okay.” It’s not the answer I want to hear, but I’m afraid to push it. “Maybe you should go to the cops. You could get a restraining order.”
“No.” He shakes his head again before I’ve even finished talking. “No, I talked to them when it all happened years ago, and I lied to them. They wouldn’t take me seriously. And Grant would just walk through one of those anyway. You have no idea what he’s like. He won’t stop at anything.”
“Jude—”
“I should just let him do it and get it over with.” Jude’s voice is hollow, and before I have the chance to react, he grabs his jacket and heads out the door.
Twenty-five
Jude
I have nowhere else to go, so I head for our old house. It’s been condemned since the night our dad died. I kind of expected it to be destroyed by now, but it’s still standing. Though it’s obvious it hasn’t been taken care of or lived in for years.
Carefully, I sit on the old steps of the porch and light a cigarette. It feels weird to be here. So much happened in this house that hurt more than I could stand. But there was a lot of good too. This is where I formed my relationships with Dom and Rowan. Where we protected each other no matter what.
Still, when headlights cut across the grass, I pull back a little. For some reason, I’m worried it’s Dad. Then I get scared that it’s Grant, coming to finish what he started in the elevator.
But the Charger parks at the curb, and Rowan and Dom climb out. I relax when I realize it’s just them. “What are you two doing here?”
“Max called,” Rowan replies. From the neutral tone of his voice, I’m guessing Max didn’t tell him about us. “He said you showed up at the bar pretty upset and wanted us to make sure you were all right.”
“He overreacted,” I mumble, taking another drag from the cigarette. Then I glance at Dom. “You’re supposed to be taking care of last-minute shit for the wedding.”
