I step out of the car as he holds the door for me, the night wrapping around us, cooler here than it was at the ranch, quieter too.
I hesitate as we walk toward the house, something tightening in my chest.
“Are you sure he won’t mind me being here?” I ask softly.
Dex stops and turns to look at me fully this time. There’s something raw in his expression.
“I need you here, Tink.”
That settles it. I nod.
“Okay.”
We knock, but no one answers. The porch light hums faintly above us, and when I glance back toward the driveway, Jude’s truck is there.
“He’s here,” Dex murmurs, more to himself than to me.
Then he takes my hand again.
“Come on.”
We walk around the house toward the stables, the faint smell of hay and leather growing stronger with every step.
“I know where he is,” Dex says quietly.
The stable doors are half open. Inside, it’s dim, soft shadows stretching across the wooden beams, the low shuffle of hooves and the occasional breath of a horse the only sounds filling the space.
And then I see him.
Jude stands in one of the stalls, one hand resting against the neck of a black horse, his fingers moving slowly through its mane like he’s grounding himself in something that won’t disappear on him.
His head is bowed slightly. His shoulders heavy.
The horse stands perfectly still beneath his touch, head lowered, ears flicking occasionally, like it understands. Like it knows.
My chest tightens. I haven’t spoken to Jude much. Not really. Whenever he’s at the bar, I know he needs his space. He gives me small smiles before leaving, like he’s grateful for it.
I really like him. My dad was a bit of a loner, a quiet kind of man, and I always felt myself calm down when he was in the room. Jude is like that. A quiet force that doesn’t need attention, but you always know he’s there.
Seeing him like this, broken and hurting, makes something in me ache. I fight the urge to go to him, to wrap my arms around him, knowing that’s not what he needs.
“J,” Dex calls softly.
Jude’s head lifts slowly, his eyes finding us in the dim light. They’re glassy, red around the edges.
Dex doesn’t move right away.
“Okay if we stay with you a bit?” he asks, his voice careful, like he’s stepping onto fragile ground.
Jude’s gaze flicks to me for a brief second, then back to Dex, and he nods.
That’s all it takes.
Dex walks forward and pulls him into a hug.
And the second their arms wrap around each other, Jude breaks.
It’s not loud. Not dramatic.
