44. Slade #2
“Oops.” She turns to her side window and waves to a guy that’s cut around us. “Sorry,” she says, even though he can’t hear her. She gives him a little wave and the guy rolls down his window to get a better look at her, his face splitting into a grin.
“No problem, Sinclair,” he calls, driving past.
“People are so friendly here. I don’t get the whole ‘driving in Manhattan is stressful’.”
She looks at Denver and he tightens his grip on her thigh. “Course not, Princess. Eyes on the road now, though.”
“But you’re so handsome it’s hard not to look.” She wrinkles her nose at him, trying to be cute as she teases him.
Whatever look he has on his face, she giggles and turns her attention back to the road ahead.
“You’re going to have a great time tonight,” she says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Jude’s picked well.”
“Has she?” I turn to Jude, loving the way she’s smiling at my sister. The two of them and Tate have been hanging out more. I thought it would have taken ages to get to this, if we ever did. But once the truth came out, it’s like we’ve all finally been able to breathe again.
And now all everyone wants is some normality. And happiness.
We just want to live.
“Sin and Tate helped arrange it,” Jude says, reaching for my hand with her free one, still stroking Mabel, the younger of my sister’s dogs, with the other.
“Now I’m intrigued,” I murmur, squeezing her fingers as she bites back her smile and turns to look out of the window.
Denver and I are in the middle of talking about a baseball game a little while later when Sinclair cuts across a lane and screeches to a stop at the curb.
“Here you go. Enjoy!”
I look out the window and smile as I see where we are.
“Thanks for the ride, Sis.”
“Are you having a good time?” Jude shouts over the music.
I tighten my arms around her from my position behind her and kiss her temple.
“Yeah, are you?” I say in her ear.
She nods, turning her attention back to the stage.
It’s been longer than I can remember since I’ve been surrounded by this many people—all sweaty and singing along to the lyrics of the lead male singer on the stage inside Madison Square Garden.
The atmosphere is electric. The band—a new soft rock one I hadn’t heard of until I came back to New York—is rolling straight into another song, as the crowd cheers and whistles.
“Didn’t know rock songs about heartbreak were your thing, New York City?” I say into Jude’s ear, loving the way she shivers and presses her body against mine.
“I wanted you to hear these specific songs,” she says, turning her face to look back at me.
“Why?”
“They’re Tate’s.”
“All of them?”
I glance back at the stage, impressed. I knew Tate worked as a songwriter. But until now I haven’t heard any of her material in its finished form like this.
“All the ones they’ve performed so far are.” Jude searches my eyes. “You’ve been listening to the lyrics, right?”
I swallow as the magnitude of what she’s saying soaks in. It’s why she brought me here. Why she wanted me to hear this band, these songs, each word of their lyrics.
“They’re…” I frown.
“About you. And your family. About losing someone you love and feeling lost without them.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, tightness slamming into my chest like a sledgehammer.
“I’m sorry if it’s too much.” Jude scans my face, her forehead furrowing. “I thought you needed to hear them, to—”
I cut her off with a kiss, bringing my mouth down over hers and sharing her breath like it’s the one thing keeping me from passing out.
“Thank you,” I say against her lips.
I slide a hand to her jaw and deepen our kiss, sliding my tongue past her lips. She turns inside my arms so she’s facing me. The softness of her body pressing up against mine has me biting down a groan.
She pulls away as the band’s song comes to an end.
“We’re going to be joined on the stage for the next song,” the lead singer says into the microphone. “By a very special lady. She’s the only one you’ll ever hear perform this song. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?” He chuckles as the crowd goes wild, shouting and whistling and clapping.
Jude bites her lip, a hint of apprehension in her eyes.
“This is the one I really needed you to hear, Slade,” she says. “Watch. And listen. Really listen.”
Her eyes remain on my face as I look back at the stage. A woman with red hair in a black dress walks out.
“Everybody, please welcome Tate!” the lead singer announces.
The sound in the arena is deafening. But everything muffles as I stare at Tate. She walks to the piano set up on the stage and takes a seat. A silence falls over the crowd like magic as she leans toward the microphone.
“I don’t play this song much. But when I do, it still hits as much as the first time.” She clears her throat and smiles. “This is… Blue Eyes.”
I’m in a tunnel, unable to see or feel anything around me except for Jude. Her warm body inside my arms. Her eyes on my face. And then there are Tate’s words, flowing around me like light filtering through water.
“It’s about…” I choke, my voice thick.
“I know,” Jude whispers. “Keep listening.”
I do. I listen to every syllable, letting them sink into my skin until they become a part of me. Where the other songs were sad, about heartbreak and loss and memories. This one’s about hope and love and happiness.
“Fuck… Jude…” I choke out, unable to form the words I need in order to tell her what this means to me. What she means to me.
“They love you so much. Can you hear it? Can you feel it? They never abandoned you. They thought about you every day. They’ve suffered too. Tate’s songs helped heal Sullivan. He told me as such when we arranged tonight for you.”
Jude’s gazing at me with nothing but love and understanding in her eyes.
“The song’s about Molly,” I say.
“Sure is.” She tightens her arms around me. “You said New York City hates you. Do you see now how that isn’t true? It was here. Missing you all along. Waiting for you to come home.”
The final page in Molly’s storybook flashes in my mind, and I blink rapidly, fighting back a surge of emotion.
“I am home, Jude. I was home the moment you kissed me.”
She bites her lip, understanding in her eyes as she sees I’m barely holding it together.
“Pretty sure you kissed me first, Cowboy.”
I smile, cupping her face and lowering my forehead to hers.
“I love you. Thank you for this.”
“I love you too. And you’re welcome.”
I cover her smile with a kiss, and I don’t stop kissing her until Tate’s song ends and the cheers erupt around us.