36. Jude #2
His voice makes me break into a sob, and I turn, searching for him. The moment I lock onto his blue eyes, I run to him, launching myself into his outstretched arms.
“Oh my God!” I cry, wrapping my arms and legs around him and sobbing into his neck.
I breathe him in, putting my hand to the back of his head and scrunching my fingers to hold onto his hair. The silky strands don’t fill my palm like they used to, and I pull back to look at him.
“Slade…” I suck in a breath as I take him in.
It’s him, only different.
He’s had a haircut. And a shave.
I drop my eyes over his body.
He’s wearing a shirt and suit pants that look brand-new and expensive.
I bring my tear-filled eyes back to his face and he gazes at me.
“No more brown, New York City,” he says.
I stroke his temple, searching his shimmering blue eyes. They crease at the corners and his mouth curls into a soft smile.
The sight floors me.
“I always liked the blue best, Cowboy,” I whisper back.
He crushes his lips to mine. “Fuck, Jude. I missed you. I wanted to get to you sooner. I didn’t even know your number. I’m so sorry.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I kiss him back.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you okay?”
He kisses me harder. “I’m okay.”
I wilt in relief, crying into our kiss.
He brushes the loose strands of hair from my face with a warm hand, the other cradling my ass as I cling to him. His eyes soften as he thumbs away a tear from my cheek.
“Don’t cry, Baby. It’s all going to be okay.”
But the tiny pinch at the corners of his eyes, accompanied by the way his jaw clenches as someone calls his name has me searching his face for answers.
“Slade. What’s—?”
“It’s okay,” he repeats, setting me down on my feet, before wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side.
I turn and take in the room properly.
The man from outside the store who read out the press release is standing talking to Denver and two other men in dark suits. He beckons Slade over, calling out his name again.
“Give them a minute,” a handsome older man says, walking over to us.
His eyes are the same blue as Slade’s, and they’re full of warmth as he smiles at me.
“Jude? My son’s told me about you. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Sterling.”
My hand is enveloped in a large, firm grip as he shakes it. He’s barely let go when I’m swept into a hug.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” the woman hugging me announces. Her belly presses into me and as she pulls back, she rests her hand on it, rubbing it lovingly. “Sorry, I always forget how hard it is to hug with this little one squished in the middle. I’m Halliday,” she adds.
“Hi,” I utter in bewilderment.
Sterling places his hand beneath hers and strokes her bump with his thumb. The move is so natural and quietly protective. I can imagine Slade being the same. The thought comes from nowhere and I glance at him as if he can read my mind.
But he’s too busy looking at his father as Sterling turns and addresses the room.
“Everyone, this is Jude. Slade’s…”
“Girlfriend,” Slade says. “She’s my girlfriend.”
This time when I snap my eyes up, he’s looking back at me with a glint. We’ve never labeled what we are to one another. Until now.
Denver nods in my direction, along with the man from the store. And the two other men they’re with both raise a hand.
“You’ve met Denver. And that’s Frank, he’s handling the press for us. And Killian and Jenson look after security,” Sterling explains.
“Hello.” I wave politely.
Slade squeezes my hip reassuringly as though he can sense how weird I feel being here with them all.
Two small dogs with tufted hair race over to the men and roll around their feet, play fighting.
The smaller one, which looks like a puppy gets its front paw caught inside its collar and struggles to run after the bigger one when it scampers away.
Denver calmly reaches down without halting his conversation with the other three men, and lifts the small puppy into his arms, freeing its paw with a great deal of care for a guy his size.
The puppy squirms in his arms, licking his face before he sets it down and it tears away again.
A small girl with dark curls wearing an orange onesie with ears laughs as the dogs race past. She’s sitting on the floor with a baby doll in her arms and a red-haired woman beside her.
“Molly,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes from her.
She watches the dogs, her face lit up with pure joy.
She’s Sullivan’s daughter so of course the resemblance will be there, but the way she looks so much like Slade has my heart pounding.
It’s the hair, her curls a little unruly, like Slade’s hair was before he cut it.
And it’s her eyes, holy hell, it’s her eyes.
She glances in my direction, and it’s like looking into Slade’s—only hers are filled with a happy freedom that makes my mouth dry.
It's how Slade could have been if he hadn’t been through what he has.
The redhead beside her climbs to her feet and comes over. “I saw you outside the store,” she says, smiling at me.
I nod, taking her in. She’s stunning. Curvy and just…
sexy. She’s not polished or groomed like everyone else in the room.
But she looks amazing in her worn jeans and a T-shirt—with what looks like a coffee logo on it, complete with a dusting of flour on the chest like she’s been baking—knotted at her waist.
“I’m Tate.”
“Sullivan’s fiancée,” I say, blinking at her.
“Uh-huh.”
She grins, oblivious to the mental chugging of my brain as I try to understand how a woman who appears so easy-going and friendly is engaged to the aloof, tense man I collided with on the sidewalk that day.
I don’t know him, so it’s unfair to make a snap judgment, but from what Slade’s told me about how Sullivan was always the sensible sibling growing up, needing things done in a precise order, I didn’t expect him to be marrying a woman that’s so clearly his opposite.
But I guess that’s why it works. She must loosen him up.
“And that’s Mal and Trudy,” Sterling says.
I follow his line of sight to an older man with swept-back silvery-blond hair and a deathly pale face sitting beside a woman rubbing his back. She gives me a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, Jude,” she says. The man nods a greeting alongside hers but barely glances my way.
“Uncle Mal’s not feeling great,” a female voice says.
My attention is drawn to the woman who’s appeared in front of us. Her height and long blonde hair give her away, as well as the fact she’s the member of the family who came up the most during my cyberstalking.
“I’m Sinclair, Slade’s sister,” she says, looking at me with interest. “You met him in South Africa, huh?”
She isn’t being rude, just direct. And I can tell by the glossy sheen in her eyes that she’s just desperately trying to get her head around seeing her brother again. Her voice even pitches a little as she speaks, as if she’s struggling a lot with having him back.
She would have been twenty or twenty-one when her mother died.
So young. Something about the heartbreak in her eyes that she’s obviously trying to mask has me wondering if she was a part of the decision to outcast Slade from their family.
She must have known what was happening, Slade said she was at the press conference.
But she didn’t speak at it. Maybe they all made the decision, and she had to go along with it, or maybe not. I have no idea.
This is all just so… weird.
“Yeah, I did,” I reply.
She nods, pursing her lips. “Did he tell you why he did it?”
I reel back.
“Enough, Sinclair,” Sterling warns in a low voice.
I glance at Slade. A vein pulses in his temple and his jaw is set. To anyone else he might look angry, but I know him. He’s hurt. He’s holding it back, but he’s in pain.
“Slade?” I place a hand on his chest, and he looks at me, forcing his brow to smooth from where it’s scrunched up.
“It’s okay, Jude,” he murmurs.
But it’s not okay. This is wrong and weird. His entire family is smiling and greeting me like it’s a happy reunion. At least Sinclair isn’t afraid to address the elephant in the room.
I stare at her as she presses her lips together, fighting tears. My stomach bottoms out as I realize…
They really do blame him for his mother’s death. Sinclair wouldn’t ask me if he told me why he did it if they knew it was an accident.
Slade’s grip tightens on my hip like he’s trying to hold me back as I lean forward, unable to rein my anger in.
“It wasn’t his fault. Did you ever consider that?” I say, my voice louder than I intend.
Everyone stares at me and the room falls silent except for the sounds of the dogs’ claws scattering over the polished concrete floors. My chest rises and falls with rough breaths as Slade eases me toward him.
I melt into his side, desperately trying to remain strong for him. He presses a kiss to my temple, and it takes everything in me not to cry for him.
“We’ve all had a shock,” Sterling soothes in a deep tone, throwing Sinclair a warning look. “This is hard on everyone. But we’re family and we need to stick together.”
I blink hard, my chest burning.
Beauforts stick together.
He doesn’t use those exact words, but I hear them, and so does Slade because he tenses beside me.
Sinclair spins away, striding from the room. Denver watches her go, then excuses himself and follows her. Sterling murmurs something to Halliday and she nods, and Molly calls out to Tate, stealing her attention.
“You all right?” Slade whispers in my ear.
My jaw slackens as his warm breath flows over my skin. I exhale. “Yeah. It’s just…”
“I know. It’s fucking weird being back. I didn’t think they’d have even kept this place.”
I look at him. “This is your old place?”
“Yeah. And it’s exactly as I left it, minus some stuff. Dad said they didn’t know what to do with it.”
“They couldn’t let you go,” I whisper.
“Daddy!” Molly squeals, pulling my attention from Slade.