Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Jude
The second I stepped through the door of The Chalice & Cherry, I felt it.
Him.
My eyes locked on Julian like some divine magnet had yanked my head up and pointed me straight at the bar.
There he was, half-sitting, half-slinking against the worn mahogany, backlit by amber lamplight and half-drunk sunlight spilling in through the windows.
His fingers circled a glass, his knuckles tense.
His lips were parted as if he’d just taken a breath and forgotten what he wanted to do with it.
And he was looking at me.
My body froze. I mean, truly froze—heart stalling, limbs locking up, time dragging its feet like it suddenly wanted to savor this moment just to mess with me.
The last time I’d seen him, I’d told myself to forget about him, but that proved to be impossible.
But now?
The sight of him sent a crackling shiver through my entire body. Like there was a thread—an invisible, pulsing line that had snapped taut between us. Drawing me forward. Tethering me to him.
Julian Reed, skeptic, sinner, and maybe the most guarded man I’d ever met.
He looked up at me through dark lashes, and then—
He blushed.
A faint pink stole across his cheeks, blooming up into his ears, and my stomach flipped. Heat rose up my neck like a damn fever. He looked so unsure, so unguarded, and I realized I was just standing there. Staring at him like a wide-eyed fool.
Move, Jude.
I forced my feet to carry me across the room. Each step felt weighted, like wading through water charged with something electric. By the time I reached the bar and slipped onto the stool beside him, my knees felt weak—but I managed it.
Our legs touched.
Just the barest press of thigh against thigh, but the jolt it sent through me was immediate and intense. My breath caught. The fine hairs on my arm lifted. Julian didn’t flinch—he didn’t pull away. He just sat there, stiff but humming with energy, as if the same current had struck him too.
Percy watched us, eyes narrowing. His hand moved automatically, grabbing bottles without a word, and within seconds a drink was placed in front of me.
I didn’t look at him.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Julian.
“You’re back,” I said, and God, my voice was low—soft in a way I didn’t mean for it to be. Reverent.
Julian turned his head slowly, his eyes flicking up to mine. And when he spoke, his voice wasn’t the sharp, sardonic bite I remembered. It was quiet. Fragile.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” he whispered. “I had to come back. Something’s drawing me here.”
There it was again—that pull. Not just lust, not just unfinished business. Something bigger. Something I couldn’t name but felt in every bone.
Julian looked down, chewing his bottom lip. Then he frowned, like the weight of the moment sat too heavy on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For… running away. That night, when I left. I came on too strong, and I scared you. I scared myself.”
He was rambling, fumbling over the words, and I was helpless to do anything except watch him. The line of his jaw, and the way his fingers curled anxiously around his glass. The color in his cheeks. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
God, he was beautiful.
Not just in the physical sense—though that too, obviously. His outfit was more endearing than it should’ve been, like a costume he hadn’t quite grown into. It definitely wasn’t his style. But it was the vulnerability that did me in. That hesitant, trembling hope just beneath the surface.
I couldn’t look away.
Percy cleared his throat. Loudly. “Ugh, if this gets any mushier, I’m gonna need a mop.”
I shot him a look. One sharp enough to cut glass.
He smirked, held up his hands in surrender, and turned away, retreating to the other end of the bar to polish glasses with a level of focus that could’ve cleansed sin.
I turned back to Julian, my voice softer now.
“I know a lot of what we believe in around here seems… woo woo. Trust me, I get it. Moon water, energy grids, reiki—some of it’s out there.
” I smiled faintly. “But it’s not hurting anyone.
For most people, it helps. Gives them something to hold onto. Something to hope for.”
Julian stared into his drink. He didn’t look dismissive. He looked like someone trying to understand a language he hadn’t spoken before.
I took a sip of my own and set the glass down with deliberate calm.
“I’m doing a ritual tonight,” I said carefully. “Smaller than the last one. More intimate. But still… real. If you’re curious—if you want to see what this is all about—I’d like you to come.”
His head snapped up.
Those eyes. Wide. Searching. Vulnerable.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
And then he nodded.
Just once.
But it was enough to make my pulse race.
“I’ll be there,” Julian murmured, then he reached in his pocket, and with a shaky hand he tossed a few bills on the bar. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The clearing behind the healing center buzzed with laughter and the scent of burning sage.
Someone was strumming a mandolin. Someone else had brought their dog, which was wearing a flower crown and had been anointed with lavender oil.
Zephyr had set up a low altar out of an overturned milk crate, draped in silk scarves and dotted with tea lights, crystals, and a half-empty bottle of rosé.
It was beautiful in a very specific Riverbend way—chaotic, earnest, and softly glowing with intention.
And I couldn’t feel a single goddamn thing except for the pounding of my heart.
He was coming. Julian.
I kept scanning the treeline like a deer about to bolt.
Everyone else laughed and chatted like this was any other gathering, but I was wound tight as a coil, half-convinced I’d imagined his blush at the bar, his whispered confession, that moment when our legs had touched and something electric passed between us like a spark too bold to ignore.
What was I doing?
“Stop vibrating like a broken tuning fork,” Zephyr said beside me, slipping her arm through mine.
I jumped slightly, and she rolled her eyes in that affectionate, vaguely cosmic way of hers.
She tugged me gently away from the others, down a short slope toward the edge of the woods. There under a young sycamore, she took both of my hands in hers and shut her eyes.
“I’m reading your vibes,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shh.”
I closed my mouth. Zephyr might’ve dressed like Stevie Nicks’s art teacher and burned mugwort during Mercury retrograde, but her intuition had never failed me. Not once.
After a moment, her brows furrowed.
“There’s a duality to him,” she said, her voice low. “Like two wolves. One of them really wants to know you, Jude. Deeply. Fully. Like he’s starving for something real. But the other one… I don’t know. The other wolf is pacing in circles. Guarded. Afraid. Maybe angry. I can’t quite reach it.”
I swallowed hard. “So what does that mean?”
“It means be careful,” she said, opening her eyes. “I couldn’t stand to see you hurt. Not by someone like him. He’s got a storm inside, that one.”
I nodded slowly, heart heavy. “I know.”
Zephyr rubbed her thumbs across my palms. “What’s tonight about, really?” She asked, her tone lightening. “You’ve got that ‘I’m planning something slightly unhinged’ look in your eye.”
I laughed under my breath, grateful for the shift. “I want us all to walk down to the river.”
She blinked. “The Shenandoah?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I want to do a cleansing ritual. Not the big, showy kind. Something simple. Grounded. I just… I need a fresh start.”
“With him,” she said knowingly.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “With Julian. If this thing—whatever it is—has a chance, I want it to be clean. Not tangled up in past mistakes or my fear or his bitterness. Just... water, breath, and beginning again.”
Zephyr’s smile softened into something almost maternal. “That’s real, Jude. That’s the good kind of magic.”
Just then, a low whistle floated across the field. I turned toward the sound instinctively.
There he was.
Julian.
Walking toward us through the tall grass, the golden hour painting every edge of him in honey and fire.
He’d changed—had he changed?—into a plain gray t-shirt and dark jeans, casual but somehow devastating.
His hair was a little messy from the walk, his face serious but open.
There was something tentative about his steps, like he wasn’t sure what he’d find on the other side of this field.
But he came anyway.
My chest tightened. Zephyr let go of my hands and stepped back, giving us space.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
The wolves inside him might’ve been fighting, but one of them had won out—for now.
He was here.
And so was I.
Julian crested the last little rise of the field, tall grasses brushing against his jeans, his eyes catching mine like a hook to the chest.
God, he was beautiful. Even with that guarded expression, even with the tight line of his jaw and the faint furrow between his brows like he was still unsure if this had been a good idea. His gaze flicked to Zephyr, then to the cluster of people around the altar, then back to me.
“Hey,” I whispered, stepping toward him.
“Hey,” he replied, voice quiet. He looked at me like he wanted to say more, like there was a whole monologue behind his eyes, but he couldn’t find the opening line.
Zephyr, of course, said plenty for both of us—without speaking a word. She eyed Julian like a judgmental crow perched on a velvet throne. Not hostile exactly, but very much in do not fuck with my bestie mode. Julian glanced at her, clocked the vibe, and shifted his weight.
“We’re glad you came,” I said, nudging the energy back toward something hospitable. “We’re about to walk to the river.”
“Oh?” Julian asked. “Is this like… a baptism or something?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Zephyr beat me to it.
Her tone was clipped, but not cruel. “Would you please respect where you are, and the surrounding people?”
Julian blinked, caught off guard.
Then she stepped forward, took his hand, and closed her eyes. “Open your heart,” she whispered. “Joy will follow. Eventually.”
I watched Julian’s face soften, just a fraction. He nodded once. Zephyr let go, then turned and started walking without waiting for either of us.
I turned to the group and raised my voice. “Okay, everyone! We’re heading to the river tonight. I want to do a cleansing ritual. Nothing heavy, just… intention, presence, and water. Let’s walk together.”
A few people cheered, someone clapped lazily, and others just gathered up their things. Blankets, wine bottles, a singing bowl. The usual suspects.
Julian fell in beside me on my right, Zephyr on my left, and together we made our way across the field in a slow procession. The air was thick with midsummer warmth, crickets starting to sing their evening song. The golden light made everything feel suspended—like we were walking through honey.
Julian looked over at me. “So is there, like, an actual ceremony or do you just splash river water on our foreheads and call it a day?”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Depends. You want holy water or something blessed by cow gods?”
As if summoned, a nearby cow mooed softly.
“Hey!” someone called from behind us. It was Gavin, barefoot and carrying a wooden flute. “I found some excellent magic mushrooms in this field last summer. Right near all the cow patties. Real spiritual.”
Zephyr made a face. “Thanks for that image.”
Julian gave me a sideways grin, and I felt the faintest flutter in my chest.
We arrived at the riverbank just as the sun dipped low behind the trees, casting a rich amber glow across the water. The Shenandoah was calm tonight, its surface shimmering with late evening light. Fireflies dotted the edges of the field, blinking in and out of existence like shy little stars.
I stepped forward and cleared my throat. My heart was hammering. Not just because of Julian. Because I wanted this to matter.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?”
The group quieted, a few people dropping into cross-legged positions on the grass, others standing barefoot with their eyes already closed.
“We’re here tonight for a reset,” I began, voice steady, soft.
“Whatever we’ve been carrying—fear, guilt, bitterness, regret—I want us to let it go.
Even if it’s just for a moment. Even if we pick it back up tomorrow.
For tonight, I want us to give ourselves permission to feel clean again. Inside and out.”
I looked over at Julian. He was watching me, completely still.
“We’ll take a moment to meditate in silence. Then we’ll each step into the river and let it carry something away.”
A few nods. One audible mmm. The sound of wind in the leaves.
I took a breath, deeper this time, and turned to Julian.
“Let’s begin.”