18. Jude
18
jude
K nowing she needed time to process going home with me and running into her ex and his new girlfriend—what a fucking tool—I left her at Brit’s house while I checked into my hotel. I gave her a night to ponder. A night for me to cool my jets. After that encounter with the guy who cheated on her, I wanted to punch some shit, throw her over my shoulder, take her to my preverbal cave like a fuckin’ Neanderthal, and claim her as mine all night long.
Hell, yes, I worried she’d back out, but I needed to trust her and whatever was between us. I needed to give her room to breathe, to come to the realization on her own that going home to the ranch was right .
I showed back up at eight the next morning to help her pack a couple bags before I gripped her hand and walked her to my rental car. She didn’t waffle or hum indecisively like I thought she might. No. Romy pumped my hand as it held hers, as if to assure herself this was all real.
I could barely keep my eyes off her, let alone my hands, as we boarded the plane. I couldn’t help it. I had to touch her. I tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, grasped her hand, pressed my palm against the small of her back, and tucked her into my side.
She didn’t pull away from me, either. She leaned into my touch. Resting her head on my shoulder like she’d done all those years ago.
Contentment washed over me as she took a nap on my shoulder midair while my hand never left her thigh. I barely paid attention to my in-flight movie, too distracted by the way her dark lashes fanned across her pink cheeks, how her rosy lips parted in soft, shallow breaths.
Once we touched down in Portland and hit the road in my truck, she seemed relaxed, kicking off her Converse and propping her feet up on the dash while we talked all the way home.
The four-hour drive to Willows turned into a chance to talk uninterrupted. We laughed at old memories and new jokes, played our favorite songs for each other, even shared moments from our lives the other had missed. When she started to get hangry, I went through the drive-thru for burgers and soft-serves. I didn’t press for updates on Hazel, ask her about her last relationship, or mention my impending fight. There would be time for all that.
Instead, I learned that she loved trashy reality TV and read romantasy books with dragons, that she preferred her chocolate dark with sea salt caramel, and she had a huge celebrity girl crush on Zendaya.
I shared with her that I loved the HGTV channel. She laughed, unable to picture me getting down with some House Hunters or reruns of Fixer Upper . Not only had I updated the double-wide, but I had done my own home renovation projects on my Vegas house—laying new floors, grouting tile. I considered flipping houses as a hobby, but I had yet to see that idea to fruition.
Even when I saw Romy’s shoulders bunch toward her ears with worry as we wound up the Pass toward Willows, I kept it light. I ran my hand along her knee to soothe her. And when we turned off Highway 20 to the gravel road toward Thornbrush, I continued stroking her knee until I saw her posture loosen.
I breathed in the fresh country air as soon as we exited my truck, pulling Romy into my side. Relief. Pure, sheer relief in knowing I had Romy home with me.
We stepped out in front of the double-wide, bags in hand. It was a warm day, promising a hot summer, but a cool breeze blew through the pines off the Deschutes. In the distance, I could hear the cattle grazing out in the pasture.
Home.
It felt more like home than it ever had, especially with this girl tucked at my side.
“Go ahead.” I nudged her forward, taking her bags. “Let’s get you settled in. I already made up the bedroom for you.”
She shot me a look. “A little cocky, don’t you think?”
I gave her a wink. “Determined.”
She giggled. Really fucking giggled. And it was the cutest thing I’d ever heard.
“Don’t worry, though, I’ll sleep on the couch,” I assured her, noticing her hesitation in ascending the steps.
I’d step carefully, take this slow—anything to make us last this time.
“Jude, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.” Her cheeks flamed, and I knew exactly what she was picturing.
Believe me, it was seared into my mind. I wanted to see her writhe beneath me. In my bed, while screaming my name. It was all I pictured.
“Honey, there’ll be time for that.” I hovered over her, leaning down to drop a peck on the tip of her nose.
She scoffed a laugh. “You’re such a gentleman.”
“Only for you.”
I watched Romy through the front windows. Her cell phone pressed to her ear as she paced back and forth on the porch. I couldn’t make out her words, but her mouth was tight—firm—while she spoke to Hazel. She kept pushing her hand through her hair. Whatever was being said, Romy was furious. I couldn’t see her eyes, shielded beneath aviator sunglasses. But I could imagine those silver orbs ablaze.
“She needs a break,” Lina commented from her seat on the kitchen stool.
I took a gulp of my after-workout protein shake. I had given Romy space and time once we got back. I didn’t want to push too hard. Too fast. I was like an excited, little boy having her here … in my house, in my bed. I had to be patient. I wasn’t going to fuck this up. So instead, I channeled all my pent-up energy—and sexual frustration—into helping Uncle Chuck around the ranch and adding an extra workout to my daily regimen. Not to mention the extra-long showers to rub one out.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Setting down my shake, I pulled it out.
Coach
Have you told her yet?
I had texted Alex last night to let him know we were back, and we had training scheduled for Monday.
Me
No.
Coach
You’re going to have to. The press release just went live.
Me
Shit!
My cell vibrated again with the corresponding link. I clicked on it.
SUMMER FIGHT NIGHT: LARSEN VS. REYES
MMA action returns August 20th in Venture Fight Organization’s Summer Fight Night: Larsen vs. Reyes at MGM Arena in Las Vegas. The main event begins at 10 p.m. with prelims at 7 p.m.
Four-time light-heavyweight champion Jude Larsen (20–3–1) goes head-to-head with undefeated Mike Reyes (11–0). Current title holder Larsen gets back in the cage after his third knee surgery in five years. Reyes looks to make his winning streak 12–0 and take the belt.
Oh, God. I ran a hand down my face.
I needed to tell Romy.
I wasn’t sure how she was going to take it, and I felt that I had to be gentle with her right now. Anything could trigger her to take off again. If I was being honest with myself, like my therapist was helping me to be, I’d say I was scared shitless to lose her.
“She’s going to create a hole in that porch,” Lina commented. “The girl is stressed. You need to help her de-stress .”
I shot Lina a look, shaking my head.
“What?” she asked innocently. Her youthful appearance—cheeks still rosy from her trail ride, and her brown, wind-blown braids—made her look innocent. But I knew my cousin. She was far from it. “If you’re not going to, then it’s up to me. Let’s go out tonight.”
“It’s Sunday night,” I told her matter-of-factly.
“So.” She drew out the word. “No one works tomorrow. Come on! It’ll be fun! We can go to the Rooster. They have a live band there tonight, and the patio’s open.”
“It’s Memorial Day Weekend. It will be crawling with tourists.”
“Ugh!” She groaned. “Don’t be a fucking loser. If you’re worried about someone noticing you, the lighting there isn’t that great, and you’re not as big as you think you are.”
“Ouch! Little brat.”
She shrugged. “Someone has to keep your ego in check.”
“The last time I went there, Christian announced my entrance to the entire bar.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
God, she was extra annoying today.
But she wasn’t wrong.
I found Romy. That’s how it worked out for me. But I hadn’t been there long enough for someone to bother me. The idea of a crowded bar gave me anxiety.
Deep inhale. Count to ten. Deep exhale.
“That’s what I thought.” Lina took my breathing to mean I was relenting. “If the champ ends up having too many fans fawning over him, then we just go sit outside on the patio.” She leaned over the counter to give me a condescending pat on the cheek. “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m the drama queen? Are you fucking kidding me!” Romy yelled, her voice cutting through the glass.
Our heads swung to the front windows. Romy threw up a hand in disbelief.
I tightened my jaw. My knuckles whitened, gripping my protein shake. Fucking Hazel.
“Okay, she may need a drink after that call,” I conceded.
“Yes!” Lina did a little wiggly dance on the stool.
Romy hung up the phone and stormed through the front door, pushing her sunglasses atop her head. She tossed her cell phone onto the kitchen island. “She’s fucking lying, and I know it. The most frustrating thing is that I think she has convinced herself it’s the truth. She’s pleading self-defense, but the investigators didn’t find any evidence of a fight. She’s going to lose, and they are going to find her guilty.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.” I sidled up to her, close enough for her to know I was right here if she needed me, but far enough away to give her space.
“Jesse and Hazel would get into some pretty heated arguments,” Lina offered.
“That’s what Chuck said.” Romy nodded.
“Maybe the jury will recognize the signs of abuse.” Lina popped a shoulder.
Romy’s eyes connected with mine.
“Was that what was going on?” she asked Lina.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But she sure wasn’t herself leading up to everything. It makes me wonder …”
We waited for Lina to finish her thought, but like me, she noticed that Romy’s eyes drooped and her mouth tightened. If I still knew her like I thought I did, she was now feeling guilty for losing her temper with Hazel.
“You need a drink,” Lina advised.
Romy gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, probably a few strong ones.”
Lina’s eyes sparkled, clapping her hands together. “Perfect because we’re going out tonight. And don’t even think there is any other answer than ‘Hell, yes!’”
“Sure, but I didn’t bring any going-out clothes,” Romy said.
Lina waved her off. “It’s just the Rooster, nothing fancy. There’ll be live music, and I already told this champ”—Lina gave me a wink—“that if it’s too much for anyone, we can hang out on the patio. We’ll have a few drinks and shoot the shit, unwind. It’s exactly what we all need. I know I need to get away from the ranch. Fucking Reed is on my last nerve,” she grumbled. “If I have to hear his smug voice one more time, I’m going to scream.”
The last thing I wanted was some douchebag giving my baby cousin a hard time, even if she was a pain in my ass sometimes. I knew she could take care of herself, but I still couldn’t help being protective of her.
“Do I need to talk to him?” I offered.
“Nah, I got it handled. He might be a thorn in my fucking side, but I can dish it out just as well as he can. He’ll be looking for another job by the end of the year.”
“Lina,” I warned. “Your dad needs the help. Reed seems to know what he’s doing.”
She waved it off, hopping down from her stool. “I’ll make him be our designated driver tonight, then. He’ll love that.”
“I thought you just said you needed to get away from him, little cuz,” I said, staring at her with a raised brow.
With evil intent in her eyes and a swish of her hips, she walked out without a word. I think she was right; she didn’t need my help. Reed was in trouble if he thought Lina was going to let him get comfortable here.