I can’t respond. Two solid months of stress and worry begin lifting from me like I’ve been wearing a lead suit. He goes on.
“As for not keeping Nana’s legacy, I understand that not knowing why has been painful and frustrating. I can’t tell you how badly I’ve wanted to explain everything, and today, I finally can. I’m going to tell you my plans for Larkwood, but first, I need you to understand that this information is still extremely sensitive. If it were to get out, it could cause safety issues for the people involved.”
Surprise rocks me back, and nonsensically, my mind jumps toHenry’s working theory about alien probes. “You’re not about to tell me you’re involved in some kind of government UFO coverup, are you?”
The surprised smile on his face is brighter than all the light pouring in from the windows. “No,” he says on a laugh. “That would be so much cooler than what it is.” His smile fades. “Can you agree to keep what I tell you to yourself?”
“Yes, of course,” I say without hesitation.
“Then the first thing you should know is that I’m not actually selling Larkwood—I’m donating it.” As these words are released, his shoulders drop a full two inches.
“Donating it?” I repeat incredulously.
He nods. “You haven’t heard of Pathways, have you?”
I shake my head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”
He nods. “They’re a local organization that provides safe houses for women leaving dangerous domestic situations. I do nearly all my pro bono work through them, and they’ve been looking to acquire a new safe house location by August. They’re who I’m donating Larkwood to, but keeping the transfer as discreet as possible has been essential for their clients’ future safety. No one can know what it’s being used for, apart from the organization and the community we serve. As far as the public’s concerned, it will be sold to another private owner.”
The silence in the studio following this is profound. Slowly, my blood begins buzzing until there’s a roaring in my ears like a thousand bees have taken up residence in my mind. My heart. I think of my friend Maya from Brooke’s bachelorette party, whose gratitude toward Jude went far beyond the help he offered her that night. I remember the urgent pro bono case he’d been working on when I visited his apartment for the first time. His panic after I pried the truth about his tattoos from him and I edged too close to the truth. All this time, I’ve been so worried about what Agatha would think if she knew Larkwood was being sold, and what the vendors would do without the estate. But now I finally believe what Jude has been saying all along—this is more important.
Without meaning to, I step closer. The night I came closest tounderstanding why this cause is so close to his heart, he wasn’t ready to tell me details. I don’t want to pressure him, but if he’s trusted me enough to reveal his plans at last, then he might be ready now.
“When you told me about your tattoos and pro bono work,” I begin carefully, “you made it clear that it was personal.”
At the opening I give him, his lashes drop in a wince of emotion. I’m holding my breath, prepared to be gently turned away again.
“It is personal for me,” he finally says. When he forces himself to look at me, there’s a quiet anxiety behind his eyes that makes me want to close every space between us. “I decided to donate Larkwood to Pathways because…”
He pauses, and his expression is open, scared, and determined all at the same time. “Because I grew up in the kind of situation that Pathways helps women and children out of.”
“Jude—” I whisper, feeling the barely glued cracks of my heart split open. He shakes his head.
“You have to know that if it were simply a matter of being discreet about the donation, I would have told you. I’ve wanted to tell you everything from the first time you let me kiss you. Earlier than that, even.” The regret in his gaze robs the oxygen from my lungs. “But it would have meant sharing my past and my current reality, too, and that’s not my story alone.”
“Your ‘current reality’?” I ask as the back of my neck prickles.
“My mother is still in the cycle, Gracie. She never went to a safe house,” he says quietly. “I continue to live in fear and worry over her safety, but she made her choice a long time ago.”
A quiet breath racks his chest as a tear slips quickly down my face.
“I’ve spent my life doing everything I can to be in the best possible position to support her, but the awful truth is that most victims will never leave their abusers. It’s never their fault, and it certainly isn’t my mother’s. If anything, her job just adds further challenges.”
He swallows hard. “Because of her position in the public eye, and how the truth might risk all the advocacy workshedoes, she’salways needed absolute privacy when it comes to our… family matters,” he explains, as the V between his brows deepens. “I’m the only person she trusts with the truth, and because I know how important victim confidentiality is… because I love her, I’ve never felt free to share any of this with anyone. Even Henry.”
Jude. If my heart could wail his name, it would. All this time, the pieces have been there—razor-edged mosaic shards I couldn’t connect. Now that he’s arranged them into the full picture, every moment I was frustrated by his lack of transparency comes back to snarl at me.
I think of how I quietly judged him for never confiding in Henry, but now, all I can imagine is how painful it must have been to keep these secrets for so long. Another tear runs down the side of my face. I told my mom that Jude was the most selfless man I’d ever met, but I had no idea. No idea at all.
“But that’s not fair,” I say, impatiently wiping my face. “Having to keep all of this to yourself without any kind of support—no one deserves to carry something like this alone!”
His face is drawn as he argues, “I’m not completely alone. I have a therapist who knows my situation, and his support has been… everything.”
“But having to keep this from Henry,” I say, breathless from the fractures that keep spreading like fault lines in my chest, “your mother couldn’t agree to let you haveonefriend to confide in? After all this time?”
“She has every reason to be protective.”
“Yes, of course, she does. I can’t even fathom what she’s been through. Butyoudeserve protection, too,” I say, my voice breaking. “Everything you do is in the service of others. Keeping your mom safe, donating Larkwood, all your pro bono work… the way you care for me,” I say, my voice sliding higher as my throat tightens. “You deserve to be taken care of, too. More than anyone I know.”
