Chapter 19 #2
“Foster, come on…” Jude said, marching to the edge of them. “I just wanted to give us time. For me to figure shit out.”
Foster paused at the door and looked back up at him. “Well, now you have all the time in the world. You no longer have worry about choosing between me or your friends. Win-win.”
Jude could only stand there and watch the door close behind Foster.
Don’t let him leave.
Paralyzed by doubts, Jude’s feet were cemented to the floor. He couldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d known all along it would never work between them, so why was he so surprised it was ending?
Maybe because he’d not been the one to end it like he’d planned.
He’d sensed it was going to be hard when the time came, yet Foster seemed to have walked away with ease.
Probably for the best it’s over. I was only a rebound for him anyway.
The buzzer went off on the oven and woke him out of his daze. After rushing to the kitchen, he pulled the lasagna out of the oven, burning the side of his hand in the process. In a fit of rage, he threw the dish at the wall.
It shattered into pieces. The red sauce and cheese glided down in an angry streak. Jude’s hips fell back against the kitchen counter, and he slid down to the floor, watching it.
I knew it was going to hurt when it ended.
Foster slipped behind the wheel of his SUV, his blood pulsing loudly in his ears.
Stringing him along, hmm? Fuck that. He might be the dumbass who fell for someone he shouldn’t have, but no way was he going to allow it to continue.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Jude’s deep voice had carried, making it impossible not to hear their conversation.
Every word had stung.
Every denial a knife to the chest.
He’d claimed he’d told Anton what the guy needed to hear. How did he know it wasn’t him getting lip service? If what Jude had told Anton was actually the truth, that made things ten times worse.
After starting the engine, he stared up at Jude’s apartment. The need to run back up there and demand Jude admit he had feelings pulsed like an angry tooth inside him. What good would it do, though? Jude’s walls were fifteen feet thick and impenetrable.
Why was he banging his head against that?
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a curtain move but wasn’t sure.
Regret?
He was an idiot to think Jude would allow himself to feel anything at all. He was devoid of emotion. He’d lived his entire married life without love and affection. Why the fuck was he so willing to do it again?
Foster took a couple of cleansing breaths before gunning it away from the curb, but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to be alone. He called Cary, needing a beer and a friendly face. Just like the last couple of times, though, he got voicemail.
“Hey, I was hoping we could get together and have a drink. It’s been a shitty fucking day.” Foster sighed. “I’ve called a few times and haven’t heard back. You better not be rotting in some South American prison. Talk soon. I hope.”
When Jude woke up the following morning, he cursed himself for not cleaning the lasagna off the wall before he’d crawled into bed.
He cleaned up the mess before heading downstairs, where he nearly lost the tip of his finger on the bandsaw a couple of hours later.
If it hadn’t been for Paulie noticing his inattention, it would’ve been gone and he’d be sitting in the emergency room.
“Wake up, Jude,” Paulie yelled, pulling him away from the saw.
Jude blinked a few times while Paulie shut the machine down. He turned to eye Jude, concern etched in the furrows of his brow. He dragged Jude to the cooler and shut the door.
“You’ve been like a zombie all morning. What gives?”
Jude shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Paulie said. “We can handle the cuts today. Why don’t you get outta here?”
“I said I’m fine,” Jude argued.
“Boss?”
Jude eyed Paulie.
“You’re not fine,” Paulie said, voice low. “Go upstairs before you cut a whole hand off.”
“I’ll go to the office,” Jude countered. “I need to confirm the shipment of turkeys coming next week.”
“You do that,” Paulie said. “But don’t let me catch you picking up a knife for the rest of the day.”
“Or what?” Jude asked.
“Or I’ll duct tape you to your dad’s old chair,” Paulie said. “And then we’ll drag you and that ratty old thing up the steps and leave you both there for the rest of the day. I might turn on the tv if you’re lucky.”
Jude rolled his eyes and headed for the office.
He dropped into his father’s old, ratty chair, and it gave a loud groan in protest. It was one thing he’d neglected to replace.
For some reason, he couldn’t. Jude shoved the door closed before spinning that chair once around in a full circle, the mechanics inside screeching.
Forcing himself to do something besides mourn the loss of Foster, he opened his laptop. It only took him a couple of minutes to verify the first turkey delivery arriving the following week. The frozen ones, not the fresh. They’d come later, closer to the holiday.
After he hung up from a call with another vendor, he sorted through the mail stacked on the desk and then gathered all the invoices together. Instead of entering them into the computer, he reached for his cell and opened up messaging.
Jude: Can we talk tonight?
His finger hovered over the Send button before he thought better of it and deleted it. He set his phone down and focused on work. After another few minutes, he picked the phone up again, retyping the same message, only to delete it one more time.
He lowered it and entered a couple of invoices into QuickBooks, only to grab his phone again. The ADHD was strong that day. Sitting at a desk wasn’t his thing. Never had been.
Instead of Messenger, he opened Grindr.
Best way to get over someone was to get under someone else, right? A good, hard fuck might clear his head and make him see straight again. It didn’t take long before he closed the app and tossed his phone aside again.
The only man he wanted to get back into bed with was Foster.
And fuck them both for him thinking like that.
He’d known all along it was a terrible mistake, that he was letting things go too far, but he’d been stupid and allowed it to happen.
The only one to blame for his current situation was himself.
He could blame the sex. Foster had fucked him brainless and that’s why he’d let it all go the way it had.
He was gonna miss that dick, for sure.
Jude snagged his phone one last time, a thought coming to mind.
He spun to the door and flicked the lock before opening up his photos.
While they’d been on STD test break, he’d stumbled on the video he’d taken of Foster stripping and jerking off—which had been the best spank bank material ever.
He’d come almost as fucking hard as he had with Foster in his bed.
He shoved his air pods in and hit Play.
There Foster was in his living room, taking off piece after piece and baring that gorgeous body.
Jude’s cock thickened as he watched Foster stroke his, lust in those sexy, blue eyes.
But the longer Jude watched, it wasn’t the big dick or the hard body that captured his attention.
It was the way Foster was looking at him.
Something akin to adoration shone in Foster’s eyes. When Jude had dropped his phone on the floor, it had still shockingly gotten a decent view of Jude blowing him—but not just that. It had shown Foster watching him do it, with that kind of awe on his face that couldn’t be manufactured.
The first and last time Jude had watched the video, he’d only made it a few minutes in before he’d blown his load. He hadn’t watched to the end. After Jude had walked into the bedroom to continue their fun, Foster hadn’t immediately followed.
No, he’d sat on the edge of the coffee table and gasped for air for a few seconds.
“There’s no way I’m surviving him,” Foster whispered to himself before scrubbing both hands over his face.
Jude heard his own voice calling for Foster to follow him before the screen focused on the ceiling. In the background, he heard their growing moans before he clicked the video off.
There’s no way I’m surviving him.
Jude wasn’t sure he’d survive Foster, either.