5. Jude
5
jude
“ R omy.” I said her name as if I’d been holding my breath for the last twelve years and I could finally breathe again. Relief washed over me.
I thought it would take days to track Romy down, to convince Uncle Chuck to give me her number. Yet here she was. It was as if the universe heard my plea.
My heart hurt to know I’d missed all those years watching her become more beautiful.
I couldn’t help but check her out. From her white high-tops to her shocked and vulnerable eyes.
Even in that formless, army-green bomber jacket she wore, I could see her curves. Faded black jeans frayed above her shoes. And was that a tattoo? Rips in her jeans from her knees to her thigh gave me peeks of her creamy skin. One of her legs was decorated with what appeared to be blue, orange, and red feathers. The last time I’d seen those thighs bare, they were wrapped around my waist, absent of decoration other than my fingerprints. A ribbed, white tank clung to her, and I couldn’t help but imagine my hands sliding up the flare of her hips, along the curve of her waist, until they skimmed the fullness of her breasts. She had a woman’s body now, and all I could do was swallow down the lump in my throat.
Feeling my eyes on her, she brushed her blonde hair over her shoulder. It was darker now, with brighter sections woven through, and hung to her waist in waves.
Her dark lashes fringed her gray eyes, blinking as if to clear her vision.
Pink stained her cheeks underneath minimal makeup. A gasp left her mouth, her lips opening in a small O shape.
Fuck.
And it went straight to my cock.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
At the same time, Christian wrapped his arm around my shoulder and said, “Wait! Romy Miller? No fuckin’ way! I knew this drama would bring out the cockroaches, but I never guessed you’d show up.”
I broke my eyes away from Romy and gave him a withering glare.
Romy fidgeted on her stool, tucking her hair behind her ears. She had a couple of stud earrings, and a small, silver hoop pierced her right cartilage. A vision flashed in my mind of my teeth skimming her earlobe before sucking it into my mouth.
“Yeah, well …” she started. She was uncomfortable.
I tamped down the vision.
“This is like a high school reunion,” Rob chimed in, glancing between Romy and me.
Christian was looking at me with a knowing smirk.
They were old wrestling buddies from high school. They both knew we had hooked up. I’d told them when I’d been in the depths of heartbreak, but it was in this moment I wish I hadn’t. High school was not kind to her, and I had done everything in my power to protect her from it. Until I gave in to what I thought we both wanted. Ruining the best friendship I’d ever had.
God, I missed her.
The last thing I wanted was to make Romy uncomfortable and cause her to run again.
“Sage! Pour us some shots!” Christian called.
The bartender with bright-red lipstick glared at him. “Four tequilas?” she asked, while placing a receipt in front of Romy.
Romy turned her back to us. “None for me, thanks.” She pushed her half-drunk margarita away and took a big gulp of water before reaching into her purse to slide her credit card across the bartop.
The bartender, Sage, nodded before looking back at us.
Christian shrugged. “Make that three then.”
“Just two,” I corrected.
She was about to bolt, and hell if I’d let her walk away from me this time.
Sage poured two shots of tequila before swiping up Romy’s card from the bar and heading to the register.
The boys stretched over the bar, causing Romy to lean away from them. My hands twitched at my sides, ready to catch her if she tipped off her stool.
“How long are you in town?” I asked, wanting her gaze back on me.
“Just the weekend.” Her eyes flitted to mine before shifting back to the purse in her hands. “I have work on Monday.”
I wondered what she did for a living, and my brain flipped through everything I could say—if only it meant keeping her here. But every question sounded stupidly shallow or too intrusive. I’d never been good at small talk.
Sage returned with her receipt and card, and Romy scribbled her signature. I couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder, noticing she still signed it Miller and her left hand was absent of a ring.
Good. Not married.
“It was good seeing you guys,” she said, shrugging her bag over her head. She didn’t look back at any of us as she slid off the barstool.
“Great seeing ya, Romy!” Rob called after her.
“See ya,” Christian said dismissively.
She waved over her shoulder as she walked out of the bar. I couldn’t help but appreciate how incredible her ass looked in those jeans, round, pert, and begging me to grab a hand full.
Hot damn! My cock twitched at the same time my heart squeezed.
I was watching her leave again.
A firm hand hit me in the chest.
“What the fuck, bro?” I turned to see Christian looking dumbfounded at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘The Bull’ now? Go get her!”
Shocked and dazed, I hesitated.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Rob gave me a shove in the direction of the parking lot.
I nodded absentmindedly. Romy was here .
Christian and Rob stared at me wide-eyed, expectantly.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” I told them, hurrying after her.
“Forget it. We’ll catch you tomorrow.” Christian waved me off.
Saluting goodbye, I pushed through the door.
A cold drizzle fell, hitting my face, and I turned my baseball cap back around. Romy stood beside a red Hyundai, shuffling through her purse, almost frantically.
“Romy, wait.”
She looked up. Her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks appeared paler in the single streetlamp illuminating the parking lot. Twelve years, and I could still read her. Heartbreak was written all over her face. Her response— run .
“I gotta go, Jude. Can we do this another time?” She sounded exhausted.
Do this , as if talking to me was a chore?
Growing up, we never ran out of things to talk about. It never felt stilted or forced. It was a natural banter that grew into something more. A connection between two souls that recognized each other.
Had I imagined the tectonic-shifting chemistry we had when we were eighteen? Granted, we were only eighteen. Horny teenagers with little sexual experience. But had I imagined how good it was? Had I convinced myself that it was the best sex I ever had simply because it was with Romy?
I mean, I’ve learned some things since then. I had my fair share of relationships over the years, but I was always comparing them to Romy. The chemistry and connection were never there. Not even with Jessica, though at the time, I had wanted it to be. Had I built it all up in my head?
I cleared my throat. “I know this has to be a lot for you, with Hazel and all, but I’m here to help in any way I can.”
Romy’s shoulders sagged in relief.
“Thanks. Do you know what happened?”
Had no one told her?
“Has Frank not said anything?” I asked. I didn’t know if I should be the one to tell her, but the last thing I wanted was for the Willows’s rumor mill to do it for me.
She shook her head. “Hazel called me from jail asking to put her things in storage, but it was a recorded line so she couldn’t say more.”
I nodded, turning my cap backward. The rain pelted me in the face, and I realized Romy didn’t have a hood.
“It’s raining.” Great, Captain Obvious. “Do you want to sit in the car?”
She studied me for a beat while she considered before shoving her hand back in her purse in search of her keys.
“My truck’s right over there.” I threw a thumb over my right shoulder, and Romy followed my gesture to Uncle Chuck’s old Chevy pickup. I’d borrowed it when Rob texted to meet at the Rooster.
I watched the gears turn in her pretty head while the rain still fell, leaving dark spots on her jacket. She was taking too long to decide. She had always been indecisive. It would take her an hour just to pick a movie from our DVD collection, and it would be eleven o’clock before we decided just to hang out and talk instead.
Stuffing my hand in my pockets, I grabbed the keys and walked a few steps to unlock the passenger-side door. The door opened with a creak, and I made a mental note to grease the hinges for Uncle Chuck tomorrow.
“Get in the truck, Romy.”
Her head fell, watching her feet as she approached the truck.
I always had to get bossy with her, but back then, she had fought back with all her sass. It got my blood boiling, and I loved it.
Now, though, it appeared that her fight was gone, and I hated it. I clenched my jaw.
Her arm brushed mine while she passed, sending a shiver up my spine. Reaching for the door handle, she vaulted herself into the cab. I took a deep breath because Romy Miller was about to be inches away from me. In a closed vehicle. I shut the door. The hinges whined closed, and I hustled around the front to jump in the driver’s side before she changed her mind.
Now in the pickup with her, I felt the air thicken. I ran my hands along the cracked leather steering wheel. I was nervous. Women didn’t make me nervous. But this one did. She always had.
The leather squeaked while Romy settled in the seat, and I turned to look at her. She was devastatingly beautiful. Her dark lashes fluttered as she looked everywhere but at me. She lightly bit her bottom lip. Was this as nerve-racking for her as it was for me? I gripped the wheel, keeping myself from reaching out to touch her to make sure she was real. Seeing her again had only ever been a dream, never a reality. I had hoped, but I never thought it would happen. And not like this.
“Tell me,” she demanded, waiting expectantly.
I sucked in a deep breath, held it for a count of ten, then exhaled. Just like I learned in therapy. I’d be doing a lot of mindful breathing while Romy was in town.
Best to rip off the Band-Aid. I’d tell her everything Uncle Chuck told me earlier, but I’d leave out the assumptions. Only Hazel really knew the full story, and Romy would need to hear it from her sister.
“Earlier this week,” I began, “Uncle Chuck heard gunshots go off at the bunkhouse. It was late, and he was worried wolves were on the property again. So he grabbed his rifle and ran out to see if one of the ranch hands needed help.”
Romy’s eyes were as big as saucers, and I watched her swallow slowly. I could almost hear the pounding of her heart.
“When he got out there, he saw your sister jump in her truck and peel off down the road. He immediately knew something was wrong. When he went to see Jesse, one of the ranch hands, he found him crumpled on the floor with a bullet in his head. Uncle Chuck was the one who called the cops. They found her going down highway with the gun on her, and she was arrested.”
“Oh my God!” Romy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Hazel.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and I hated that I put them there. “Was she hurt?”
I thought for a moment. Uncle Chuck hadn’t said anything about her being injured, so I shook my head. “She was pretty upset, but no, she wasn’t hurt.”
She didn’t respond, only squeezed her eyes shut.
“I’m sorry, Romy.”
I couldn’t help myself. I shifted, hitching my right knee in the seat just enough to take the ache away, and rested my arm along the back. My fingers were inches away from the hair over her shoulder. I wanted so badly to touch her, to comfort her.
“What is she being charged with?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
My nose stung hearing the emotion in her words. I swallowed before I spoke. “Illegal carry of a firearm, evading arrest, and murder in the first degree.”
“Oh my God!” she repeated. “This can’t be real. Hazel is so … responsible. A pain in my ass sometimes, but she’d never kill anyone.” Tears slowly cascaded down her cheeks, and I curled my fingers into a fist to keep myself from wiping them away. “How did this happen?”
She said it rhetorically, and I didn’t have the answer, but God, did I crave her words. “I don’t know.”
“What am I going to do?” she asked.
I knew that helpless feeling all too well.
“I don’t know,” I answered again, but this time I added, “but we can figure it out together.”
Her wet eyes blinked, and the look on her face changed as if she was seeing me for the first time. As if she was also realizing this was real and not a dream.
The rain pinged off the truck, and the streetlight glowed through the fogging windows. Her scent had already invaded the cab, floral and sweet with a hint of coconut. If only we were seeing each other under different circumstances, as I’d imagined so many times in my head. I’d thread my fingers through her hair, drawing out every breath and moan as though we were eighteen again and our only problems were the jackasses at school.
My fingers twitched. Damn it, I couldn’t help myself. My fingers relaxed behind her on the seat, and I reached out to brush a lock of hair from her shoulder.
If I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t have noticed a reaction, but I felt her eyes flare like silver flames as they met mine. She didn’t shrug off my touch, giving me permission enough to rub the silky strands between my thumb and forefinger.
“I’m so sorry, Romy. I know this is upsetting. Where you staying? Let me follow you there, make sure you get there safely.”
She pulled away then, brushing her own fingers through her hair so I’d release her. It stung to feel her walls go back up.
“No, I’ll be fine.” Romy messed with the fringe from a rip in her jeans. I was trying so hard to avoid staring at the ink on her soft skin. “I’m just going to Frank’s, and then I’ll be at Thornbrush early. Are they letting people into the bunkhouse?”
I nodded. “They took down the police tape this afternoon. I think they got everything they needed.”
She nodded, too, in understanding. Her eyes left mine to peer out the windshield. She gathered her purse and reached for the door handle.
My hand landed on her thigh to stop her. It definitely stopped her. She flinched. Fucking idiot. I quickly drew back my hand, my fingers curling in on themselves as if to savor the heat caused by the warm firmness of her thigh.
“At least find your keys before you head out into the rain.”
But without another word, she was already gone.