I smile softly into the dark. “Hey.”
There’s a pause, and a low exhale. “You okay?”
I swallow. “I don’t know. I just...didn’t want the night to end yet.”
He’s silent for a moment. Then he chuckles through his nose. “Yeah, me neither.”
Suddenly I’m smiling. Sure, he’s the love of my life, but I feel like I’m getting to know him again. My stomach is wild with butterflies right now.
“I’ve missed you so much. I...I just...” I grip the phone tighter because I’m having the hardest time not begging him to come back and make love to me like he used to. No one has lovedme like he did. No one made me feel as good as he did, and I long forthat again. He knew my mind, body, and mysoul. And I wonder how much of it he would remember.
I’m so foolish and weak for wanting him like this.
“I know.” He exhales shakily. The silence stretches, filled with all the things we can’t say out loud. And then, so quietly I almost miss it, he says, “I’m pulling up now, I’ve got to go. Um...goodnight, Em.”
My throat tightens. I close my eyes, whispering back, “Goodnight, Jude.”
When the line goes dead, I lie there for a long time. But now, something has changed. I at least feel hopeful now.
I’m going to save him.
The bell over the door jingles as my last client leaves. I’m still cleaning my brushes when Jude walks in, a little after five, his hair messy like he’s been running his hands through it a lot. He smells faintly of smoke and his amber cologne, and for some reason, that alone makes my heart flutter.
“You’re early,” I say, smiling despite myself. “Wasn’t expecting you for another, like, twenty minutes.”
He grins faintly, shoving his hands into his black jacket pocket. “Didn’t have anything else to do.”
There’s something about the way he says it that twists in my chest. “You can sit. I’m just finishing up.”
He takes the stool beside me, eyes trailing over the half-finished painting. “You’ve gotten so much better.”
I laugh, dipping my brush into a jar of murky water. “You say that like I used to suck.”
“Oh, stop it,” he says, his lips twitching into that old smile. For a while, the only sound is the quiet acoustic music playing from my speaker. I feel him watching me, and the nerves bubbling up.
“What are you really doing during your littlehealth break?”I ask.
He shifts slightly. “Just laying low with Micah. I’m not doing interviews or performances with the band. Might do some solo work for private events, but that’s it.”
“What do they think of all this?” I pause, making a slight adjustment to my piece. It’s a field of long, flowing grasses leading to the ocean. “You have, what, two other members?”
Jude nods. “Yeah. Finnick and Kami. They’re home right now in New York. My manager, Nolan, sent them away while we’re here. They don’t have any of the issues I do. Micah is with me because he does.”
I purse my lips, unsure of what to say for a moment. My brush glides over the canvas, creating the outline of a cloud. There are so many more important questions I want to ask him. But like my clients, I don’t want to press too hard too soon. Because right now, there’s a look on his face that tells me he’s in his head. So instead, I hand him a spare brush and a clean palette.
“Paint something.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you want me ruining your vibe?”
I smirk. “I trust you. Mostly.”
He sits beside me then, his shoulder brushing mine every so often as he paints something messy and abstract. The light from the window turns golden as the sun dips, catching the side of hisface. There’s bright red paint smudged on his hand now, and for a second, it almost looks poetic.
I wonder how many friends he’s lost to drugs.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Wasn’t hungry earlier.”
