CLAUDIA
Every partof my body ached after Jude helped me into his truck and drove me back to his house. I wasn’t sure if the pain behind my eyes was from the bruises across my cheek or the rise and fall of adrenaline. Even before Artie had come after me tonight, I’d been on edge. It was almost as if I’d had a sixth sense about what was about to happen.
Why didn’t I just text Jude that Brandon had to leave and lock the doors until he could take me back to Peyton’s house?
Because I didn’t want to ask for help or admit that I’d left myself vulnerable. Because I didn’t listen and thought moving to the country would be this Hallmark-esque cakewalk, never thinking there could be bad guys in a small town.
Tonight, I’d made a huge oversight that could have been catastrophic if Jude hadn’t acted on his bad feeling. Even while I admitted that buying a bar was the craziest thing I’d ever done, I’d thought that I could do it. Artie had come out of nowhere because I wasn’t smart enough to see what I was really getting myself into, and I didn’t know if I could truly handle it.
My outsides were banged up, but my insides had taken the biggest beating. Hours ago, I hadn’t been able to hold in my excitement. I had even been looking forward to printing the damn T-shirts once I finalized the new logo, and now the urge to run back to Brooklyn and nurse all my wounds at my parents’ house overpowered anything else.
“It’s late. I don’t want to wake up your father,” I told Jude when we pulled into his driveway.
“He’sbeenup. I called him when they took you back for X-rays.” He pointed to the light glowing through the living room window. “There was no way he was heading to bed without seeing you and making sure you were okay.” He gently grabbed my arm when I turned to climb out. “Stay there. I’ll help you step out.”
I nodded, not fighting him as I had still been woozy when they’d discharged me. It could have been the fall and the blows to the head or the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything since Artie had stumbled out of the bar. Either way, the doctor had told Jude to watch me during the night even if I didn’t have an official concussion.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes,” I said as all the anger and frustration I’d managed not to feel until now bubbled up. Yes, Artie was more than just a rude asshole and I shouldn’t have underestimated him, but I was mad at myself more than anything else.
Jude held my hand as he led me to the porch and unlocked the door, holding it open for me to step through.
“Let me see.”
We found George waiting by the door, scrutinizing us as he came closer. If I hadn’t had one of the shittiest nights ever, I would have commended him for how fast he was able to maneuver to the door, but I was out of fake jokes for tonight. My tank was empty in every way.
George cupped my cheek and searched my gaze, grunting out a curse as he looked over my face.
“That son of a bitch. I heard you broke his nose. Good girl.”
“I did,” I replied with a slow nod. “Didn’t stop him much, though.”
He dropped his hand and glared at Jude.
“Keith should have let you kill him. Police chiefs cover up all kinds of shit everywhere else, and ours has to be a goddamn Boy Scout.”
“It’s fine. I should have known better and not shot my mouth off,” I said with a slow shrug, wincing as it even hurt to do that.
“Known better?” George’s brows shot up. “He had no right coming after you. At all. Putting him in his place wasn’t an excuse for him to do this. Stop that.”
“Yes, but—” My words halted as a sob slipped out, followed by another, until big tears deluged down my cheeks. I hadn’t cried all night, even when the fight was at its worst, and now I couldn’t hold back.
“Shh,” George crooned as he pulled me into his arms. “It’s okay. Let it out, sweetheart.” I cried against his shoulder, wishing my father were here to say all the right things like when I was a kid and skinned my knee after running too fast. I guessed this was the adult version of what happened when I became too impetuous.
George was a good substitute as he rocked me back and forth and let me pour it all out onto the sleeve of his T-shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked out, pushing off George’s chest. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, baby,” Jude whispered and kissed the back of my head. “We’re both here for whatever you need.”
“That’s right.” George cupped my chin. “Go lie down and try to get some sleep. I’m good enough with the walker to make us some breakfast. Try to rest tonight, okay?”
I gave him a weak nod and let Jude guide me into the hallway.
“I need to wash my face,” I said before we got to his bedroom.
“Okay, come on,” Jude said, opening the door when we stopped by the bathroom.
