I’m patient. Even-tempered. Forgiving. I can get through hard times and circumstances I didn’t create.
I can handle it … but why?
It doesn’t matter. Jude’s all those things too, but he isn’t mine.
And I’m not a cheater.
Am I?
Why can’t I close my eyes and fall into the arms of a man who is always willing to catch me?
Whycan’tI have someone as easy to love as Jude?
Clearly, I read too much romance.
For the briefest moment in time, Nathan was sweetly affectionate … massaging my shoulders during a work break or stealing kisses when I came through the kitchen. I don’t think he was like that after the first few weeks.
These revelations have been coming at me hard and fast the last few days.
In a nonromantic-yet-not-completely-platonic way, if I could give myself permission to need anyone, I’d only want Jude.He’s always here.I could attach to him like a baby koala, and he’d never take it as a green light to tack on expectations when I just want to borrow some of his … calmness?
It’s emotional regulation. I’m sure yoga or breathing exercises would work just as well, but he smellsso dang good. When I’m this exhausted, it’s hard to tell myself no, but how did I end up with friends who’d walk through fire for me and a fiancé who’s irritated if I ask to meet for lunch?
I’m tired, dang it. I just want to be with the person who makes me feel safe enough to rest.Really, really rest.
“Come in and I’ll feed you,” I say on a yawn.
“Little girl, you’re already half asleep.”
“I didn’t say I’d cook. I have leftover mac ’n’ cheese and honey barbecue wings. You said you were hungry.”
“Always.”
“I know. Come on.”
Annie is either at the guys’ house or already asleep, since the door’s locked. I rummage through my purse for about two seconds when I feel DC … er,Judecrowd my space. He wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me back as he unlocks the door with his key.
Whyyyyis it so freaking hot when a guy reaches around you from behind? Not that I have much experience. Nathan would tell me to hurry up or move, but as soon as I feel Jude’s warmth, I close my eyes and let my head fall back, my feet cementing to the ground in front of the threshold.
I’m done, and he knows it.
He knows me.
I settle against him with a sigh, and his soft laugh puffs in my hair, spreading warmth in my belly with the hum of his voice.
“You’re less snarky when you’re sleepy. Almost cuddly.”
“I’m a jellyfish. Soft but can still sting the heck out of you.” I yawn.
“Terrifyingly accurate,” he mutters as he walks me through the door, arm still around my waist, half carrying me.
He’s pretty much at home in our kitchen. The guys will do all sorts of menial labor in exchange for leftovers. I don’t know if I’ve ever taken our trash to the dumpster or picked up our mail from the lockbox. I don’t even have the key.
Our motley little family eats together often because I don’t know how to cook for two. Jace and I have more adventuroustastes, so we call a truce to cook together once in a while, and leftovers are never wasted.
Jude puts the bag on the counter and opens the fridge to put the whipped cream away.
Huh. Not many guys would think to do that.
