Chapter 30
JUDE
We lie like this for a long time, Nora’s soft body fully on top of mine, my fingers stroking Nora’s spine over my T-shirt. I’m still buzzing from both the pride at making Nora come like that—still with a toy but now me knowing what she was capable of—and from my own earthquake-level orgasm.
She may never have come like that before, but I hadn’t, either. I know only part of it was due to the hotness of the situation. I was feeling things in my chest that had me flying in the moment, and even now in the afterglow, it’s like I’m bathing in some kind of celestial cloud of happiness.
It wasn’t just the sex, either. It was watching her take risks alongside me, without holding herself back. It was the way I needed her in my arms while reeling from the fear and relief of knowing my son was safe. It was this quiet girl growing loud in the safety of my arms, in heart and body.
I just wish it could feel completely right, the way I know it could be.
But it’s like that perfection—that assuredness that all is well—is just out of reach.
There’s a fear that still lingers, telling me I don’t get to have it all.
It’s the tiniest shadow hanging onto this moment with the tiny tips of its fingers. But it’s there.
I want it gone. I want to be able to be with Nora without it inching its poison into me. But I don’t know how to do it. I don’t want to ruin this moment either, with the wind howling outside and the soft weight of Nora’s body on mine.
Nora runs a thumb along the edge of my ear, tugging gently on my lobe.
It’s the kind of touch I’d craved while we sat on the couch next to each other after Cap was tucked in bed.
When only our knees occasionally brushed together, and I felt the touch like a spark of electricity. A promise, I realize now.
I always wanted you to touch me.
Nora’s fingers pause, and a beat passes.
I said that out loud.
“When?” she asks.
Nerves dance across my stomach. I could play it off. But she deserves my honesty. “When we were together, back at home. When it didn’t make sense.”
She shifts on me, sliding off to the side in the space between me and the wall. She props her head on her hand.
I stare up at the ceiling. It’s lumpy plaster up there, old—a century old or more, probably.
“Maybe it would have made sense back then,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have been able to handle it, Nora. I’d have fucked it up and hurt you and we would have lost everything.”
I still will. What happens when we go back to normal, if we ever do? This is the life I never dreamed was possible. That the terrified part of me insists isn’t. But we don’t have a normal to go back to. She’s still here, and Cap and I are going home.
She draws her hand across my chest, slipping her fingers up along my collarbone in a featherlight touch that feels so good, I close my eyes.
“It’s working now,” she says softly.
She’s right; the addition of this new dimension of us has been seamless, slipping in around our friendship with only a few bumps at the beginning as we felt each other out.
“But we’re not at home,” I say. “This isn’t regular life. And when this trip is over, you’re still going to be gone.”
I hate the way that wounded little boy still comes out when I say that. Like I still haven’t forgiven her for leaving.
“Jude,” Nora says. She shifts her body to a sitting position, her legs sideways along the side of my body like a landed mermaid or something. God, she’s beautiful.
She swallows, her eyes shifting away for a moment like she’s scared. “This is what I wanted. For the longest time. But you…you made it clear you never wanted to be with someone like this. That you couldn’t.”
I meet her eyes, something sharp entering my chest. The truth that I’m still too ashamed to admit is I still don’t know how to do it. Even with the most perfect, funny, brilliant, beautiful woman in the world.
I should tell her that. I need to tell her that. Because it’s not her fault. She couldn’t be any more perfect to me.
I told you that you have to focus, Jude! You’re just a loser until you win!
I’d forgotten that one.
“What is it?” Nora asks.
I look up at her. She’d seen the thought cross my mind. Or she was just reading my mind. “I…I used to have this coach when I played. He was with me from when I was a kid and started training seriously.”
Nora touches a hand gently to my shoulder, and I’m not sure if she’s indicating I don’t need to speak or if I should go on.
But it’s out now, so I talk. I’ve never told anyone about Coach.
“He made me a star,” I say. “And he was so nice to my parents—they never knew what he was really like.” I meet her eye, in case she gets the wrong idea.
“It wasn’t horrible. Like, I’ve heard horror stories about kids in sports.
” I grit my teeth. “So I don’t really have anything to complain about. ”
“Whatever it is, you’re downplaying it, Jude.”
I pop my jaw. “He just…he was a dick about everything. When I didn’t perform the way he wanted, he’d act like he was kind and understanding on the court, but the minute we were out of sight, he’d lose it on me.
Tell me exactly how badly I fucked up because I wasn’t paying attention, or I was ‘too stupid to see a neon ball flying at my face.’”
My chest is tight thinking about him—aside from his voice that rings in my ears every time I fuck up, I try never to think of him.
“I mean, it’s what I needed to get to where I got.”
Nora’s quiet, watching me, her face so open and caring I have to look away.
“When I was twelve, he caught me flirting with a girl and lost his absolute shit on me. He was obsessed with my focus. No space for emotion. But he screamed so hard I started to cry. And fuck, you can’t cry when you’re almost thirteen, especially not in front of him.”
One thing at a time, Jude! Your little pea brain can handle one thing at a time.
His face was red, he was so mad, spit flying from his mouth as he spoke.
You might—might—have what it takes for the pros, but you’ll never get there if you don’t live, breathe, eat, and shit tennis.
I don’t want you so much as reading a goddamned pamphlet.
Do you hear me? That canoodling shit, that’s for the losers who don’t succeed, Jude. Focus. That’s the only fucking way!
“No adult ever swore at me like that, you know? Right up in my face.”
I laugh, but the sound is bitter.
“Is that why you don’t date, Jude?”
I shrug. “No. Dating was just never for me. My family used to joke I’d get married to a tennis racket if I could.”
I play it off with a smile, but the sting at that joke is still there. But I think we both know Nora’s nailed it as usual. Between my family, my coach, and then getting a young girl pregnant—it’s always been safer to do what Coach told me to do: focus on one thing and hope to get it right.
Nora brushes my cheek with her thumb, and it feels so good, I catch her hand there, holding it against me.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something and suddenly I panic. I can’t have her tell me they were all wrong. That I did deserve to be with someone. Because that would just make me pathetic, wouldn’t it? I’d have wasted all those years.
“Jude, I couldn’t have figured all the Eleanor stuff out on my own.”
I laugh. But she’s serious.
“I mean it. You’re the one who got us into the archives. Who saw James in the photo. Who thought Eleanor might have brought her baby to the convent.”
I didn’t think about it, but when she puts it that way, I’m a little stunned.
“I’m sorry you ever thought you weren’t good enough, Jude. They were wrong about you. All of them. And your coach sounds like he was a real piece of shit.”
I feel something inside of me loosen. She’s looking inside of me, telling me exactly what I’ve always needed to hear. But instead of making me feel better, I feel something like panic. These walls have been up so long, I don’t know how to lower them. And if they’re gone, who am I under it all?
So I deflect, pulling her hand away. “Hey, when we get back, I’m going to take you out, okay? We’ll go on a date. Just you and me. Cap and Farrah will be back the last night and he’s going to want to hang out and play. Then we’ll be busy packing and getting ready to leave the next day…”
Nora smiles, but there’s a sadness in her eyes I can’t stand. Because I know I put it there.
Suddenly, I realize the tables have turned: I’m the quiet, scared one, while Nora’s forging ahead, the better person.
“Well? I asked you out. You going to leave me hanging?” I joke. All smiles. But it doesn’t sound jaunty. It sounds desperate and sad.
“Okay,” she says, her voice a soft whisper. But it’s not the same tentative softness she used to have there. It’s something else. But I can’t quite figure out what.
When I wake up the next morning there’s a strange sound that’s incongruous to the soft silence of the convent.
I open my eyes—early morning light is streaming in through the gap in the curtain, and I catch a glimpse of blue sky at the top.
But that sound—it’s a thundering, rhythmic sound, growing louder by the second.
“I TOLD YOU TO QUIT PLAYING THAT GAME SO LOUD!” Nora yells at the very top of her lungs, causing me to fly out of bed, heart pounding.
“I’M TRYING TO READ!”
I’m confused as hell, but I look up to see Nora standing on her bed, fists planted in her hips. Her eyes are glassy. She’s asleep. I go up to her and place my hands on her shoulders. “Nor—”
“CHRISTIAN!” she yells directly in my ear.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, stumbling back and landing on my ass. The room’s practically vibrating. I had no idea Nora was capable of setting her voice at that volume.
I get to my feet, gripping her shoulders again, wincing as she takes a breath.
“Nora! Wake up!” I say before she can yell. I shake her gently, which at least makes her mouth close. But when she still doesn’t respond to her name, I press my lips to hers.