Jude relaxed noticeably. “Would you tell me if that happened?”
I found a crumpled napkin in the center console, nodding as I wiped my eyes and nose.
I wasn’t trying to hide anything, but even if I could get the words out, I didn’t know how to explain what happened. What would I say? Nathan yelled at me and called me bad words while aggressively walking towards me? It sounded so stupid.
I get teary sometimes, but I don’t break down. Not likethis.
Someone exploded at me, and no one came to my defense. It certainly wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time it happenedhere. The first time it was so public … anddegrading.
I moved out after high school to get away from working for my dad—to boss up and take charge of my life. Even when I moved back home temporarily, our dynamic was different.
This was the first time I’d been blindsided by a violent outburst in years. I didn’t calculate the risk.
And I never saw it coming.
Back home, I knew most of the triggers. Loud noises, opening and closing doors, crying—there was always a risk. Sometimes words didn’t come out right, or some minor inconvenience would set him off. I was used to it as much as onecanbe.
But Crappie Branch is my safe place. The people in my circle might get snippy, but they don’t explode.
After a few patient seconds, Jude gently tried again. “Rough night at work?” He hovered, wiping my tears and pushing wet sticky hair off my cheeks. I lifted my chin to meet his hazel eyes, nodding before I quickly looked away. “Okay, if you can’t tell me, then I’m staying with you.”
If he guessed I had a fight with Nathan, he wasn’t going to make me admit it. I probably looked like a blowfish with a rash since pale skin is a lovely canvas for swollen red splotches. I needed the dramatic hiccups to stop so I could tell him I was fine and go inside, but my throat was still locked. Then I remembered Extrovert Annie’s study group was at our house. Iwas in no condition to make a joke about my puffy frog eyes and slip past them.
I lifted a trembling finger to point at the silhouettes of people visible in our front window and Jude’s gaze followed. “Let’s go to my house and watch a movie.”
I pulled in a quivering breath, and he leaned closer to swipe a tear from my cheek with his thumb. Why did he have to be so dang sweet? It just made me cry more.
His hat almost hit my face, so he took it off, raking one hand through his shaggy hair as he flipped the familiar Braves cap around with the other. My eyes tripled in size like a cartoon when he reached over me, close enough to smell his wintergreen Tic Tacs.
When he popped my seat belt and grabbed my phone and keys, my stomach bottomed out like I was falling off a cliff. Luckily, my open-mouthed gasp didn’t sound much different than the rest of my sniffling.
He'd been at work, so his normal clean scent mingled with a little sweat, grass, and possibly bleach. How could I be so affected by him in the middle of a total meltdown?
“I know you’re tough, but come home with me and be a princess for a while, okay?” He pulled me out of the car and led me between the buildings and around back, where their townhouse sits behind ours. I leaned into his side keeping my face down, as is the custom on hot, sticky, gnat-ridden Tennessee summer nights, but I hesitated the closer we got to his door.
I didn’t want anyone, butespeciallynot Jace, to see me like this. Jace is the most aggressively blunt person I know. He wouldn’t question me gently. He’d drag it out of me, tell me I’m better than this, and I should know how to handlean idiot like Nathan. He’d expect a well-timed response, with a mic drop and a dramatic exit—even if the response was only a one-fingersalute. Worst of all, he’d be disappointed, and I felt pathetic enough already.
Jude probably had indentions in his biceps from my short fingernails, because he lifted his arm out of my grasp and wrapped it around me. “He’s not here—shouldn’t be home for hours,” he said, reading my thoughts about Jace, “but if he does come home, I won’t let him interrogate you tonight. I promise. You can hide in my room if you want.”
The tears wouldn’t stop, and my head was pounding, so I went where he led me. His navy-and-green plaid comforter was pulled up neatly on his full-size bed. He guided me to the spot where the gray overstuffed back support pillow leaned against the headboard, identical to the one on my own bed.
He pulled my red checkered Vans off and tossed them in the hall off the kitchen where they keep their shoes and brought me a water bottle, a box of tissues, and ibuprofen. Looking back, it’s probably what I brought when they had the flu.
“I’ve been pressure-washing buildings, and I smell like bleach, so give me ten minutes to clean up. T-shirts and gym shorts are in the top drawer if you want to change. Get whatever you want. I’ll be right back.” Then he kissed the top of my head, tossed the TV remote next to me, and disappeared into the bathroom next to his room to shower.
My leggings were comfortable, so I grabbed a soft T-shirt without looking and carelessly tossed the Pop’s polo that smelled like fried food in his dirty clothes like I lived there. I’d been in his room before. The two-monitor station at his desk was better than my laptop when he helped me with statistics. I proofread a paper for him once, and Jace helped me with biology quizzes in here too.
I was comfortable in his space, especially since his room was nearly identical to mine. He had a bigger bed, taller dresser, and bigger desk, with books and various papers in organized stacks.There were usually picks, sticks, and possibly a guitar on the bed, but the pretty Martin must’ve been tucked underneath in its case that night. The Dark Knight was on a stand beside a rack of vinyl records with a turntable above them, and I spotted a keyboard standing on its side behind the door. He’s definitely more organized than I am. Even his small pile of dirty clothes next to the closet looked intentional.
I took the ibuprofen and turned on the TV, but the brightness stung and a fresh wave of waterworks started. The guys keep the temperature set to polar, so I grabbed the throw blanket folded neatly over the back of his desk chair, pulled it over me, and curled into a ball.
The spicy masculine scent of his body wash wafted over me when he cracked open the door, and if I could’ve snorted it like a full-blown drug addict, I would have.
“You decent?”
“Mmhmm,” I squeaked.
“A sound. That’s progress. Do you need food?”
