Heather goes scarlet. “Oh. I mean—I didn’t—”
Micah smirks. “Yeah. That works.”
She shoots him a stunned glance, and I almost snort.
Jude exhales a laugh under his breath. “We’ll have to be up early,” he says, tugging gently at a loose thread on my pants. “Nolan’s coming around nine.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Heather and I have work, too. Tuesdays are always a treat.”
Heather nods quickly. “Early morning for us all. Yay, adultlife.” But she says it while melting sideways into Micah’s shoulder, his hand absently tracing shapes on her thigh.
My heart squeezes at the sight. I suddenly feel very hopeful for her. When I talked to Micah this weekend, I felt nothing but genuine warmth from him. He loves Jude, and because of that, I know he’s a good man.
Eventually, the living room grows heavy with that wine-induced relaxation and quiet. Jude catches my eye, tilts his head toward the back patio in a silent question. I answer by standing.
He follows me through the sliding glass door, the crisp and salty night air immediately rushing in. The ocean is loud tonight—waves crashing hard enough that I can almost feel its wrath under my bare feet. The string lights above emit a soft, amber glow, swaying in the breeze.
Jude lights a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating the bruises along his knuckles. He inhales, the ember flaring, and leans his elbows on the wooden railing.
I step beside him, hugging myself tighter when a gust blows through my hair.
He notices.
Without looking at me, he shifts his body, blocking the wind with his frame. Just a quiet, instinctive movement.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You know that’s bad for you, right?”
He exhales smoke with a chuckle, the wind stealing it almost instantly. “Don’t start with that.”
“Fine.” I pause, licking my lips.
“It’s the least damaging thing I do.”
I consider that, chewing my lip. “Thank you for not trying to control me. I know this is crazy, but I can’t just do nothing. And you can’texactlycall him up yourself since you, you know, killed his brother.”
A slow smile curls the corner of his mouth. Not thecharming one he gives fans, but the soft, tired one that used to be mine. “It might not work, you know,” he says. “But I admire you for being willing to try.” He glances at me. And then he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my cheek. “You look different than you used to,” he murmurs. “Peaceful.”
“Do you remember how you used to sing to me to help chase my anxiety attacks away?”
His throat bobs.
“After you left, I needed to get medicine to help with it. And once I did that, I was able to really pursue school. Graduated and excelled faster than anyone else in the class. You leaving really forced me to focus.”
His jaw tightens, but he keeps his eyes on me. “You’re amazing. Your business is truly beautiful. And it’s trulyyou,” he says quietly, pausing. “I wanted to tell you that I’m really grateful that you didn’t run away when you saw me in the hotel a few days ago. Especially finding out what you did about me.”
I swallow. “I’d never run from you.”
The wind rustles the string lights above us. Jude takes one last drag of his cigarette and turns fully toward me. “You would. Trust me,” he murmurs.
“No,” I say. “You should know that by now.”
A smirk. “Even knowing I’m a killer? You know that if any of it got out, I’d never see you again. I’d be locked away for the rest of my days.”
“Even knowing that,” I answer confidently, though it terrifies me. The version of me I built in his absence is cracking.
His breath stutters just slightly, enough that I feel it. We stand there like that, close but not touching, the ocean roaring behind us.
When we walk back inside, the warmth of it hits me, and I shiver. Micah is sprawled across the loveseat, pillowed between Heather’s thighs, his back against her stomach. She’s sittingupright, legs on either side of him, fingers combing slowly through his blonde hair. He looks blissed out. She looks like she’s trying not to grin like an idiot.
