Chapter 25 #3
He leans into it for just a second.
“A friend of ours…” he exhales, his voice rough. “He died today.”
The words settle heavy between us.
“Leukemia,” he adds quietly.
“They said he had a year…” His jaw tightens. “He didn’t even make it six months.”
I don’t say anything. I just pull him into me.
He holds on tight.
“I’m here,” I murmur against his shoulder. “Tell me what you need.”
“Just… you .”
My heart aches.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I pull back slightly, searching his face, then glance toward the direction Jude disappeared.
“You want to go after him?”
Dex shakes his head at first, but I see it. That hesitation.
“He was my friend,” he says quietly. “But… he was Jude’s everything. Like a sixth brother.”
I nod.
“Then you should go to Jude.”
He looks at me again.
“Come with me.”
I don’t hesitate.
I glance back at Mason, catching his eye. Dex notices.
“Ethan,” he calls, his voice carrying just enough.
Ethan looks up instantly, reading the situation without a single word needing to be explained.
“Can you take Mason back to the apartment?” Dex asks.
Ethan’s expression softens as he walks over and pulls Dex into a quick, tight hug.
“I’m so sorry, man.”
Dex nods once.
He hands Ethan the keys, then turns to Mason.
“You good on your own for a bit?”
Mason nods.
“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
I step closer, squeezing his hand briefly.
He squeezes back.
I turn to Lily and Josh.
“I’m so sorry,” I say softly. “And thank you… for everything.”
Lily pulls me into another hug, tighter this time.
“You come here anytime, you hear me?” she says into my hair. “You’re family now.”
My throat tightens.
Josh wraps me in a hug next, firm and steady.
“Keep an eye on those boys tonight,” he murmurs.
“I will.”
He exhales slowly, shaking his head.
“Twenty-five… too damn young.”
Lily nods, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“And his poor wife…” she whispers. “His mama…”
Penny and Summer move in around her, steadying her, grounding her.
Cas steps closer to Dex.
“I know Jude’s…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, he’s Jude.”
Dex huffs a quiet breath.
“But if anyone can get through to him,” Cas continues, “it’s you.”
A pause settles between them.
“Call if you need anything.”
Dex nods. “Always.”
They pull into a quick hug.
Dex takes my hand, and we leave.
? ? ?
We pull up in front of Jude’s house, the tires crunching softly over the gravel as Dex slows the car to a stop. He doesn’t turn the engine off right away. He just sits there.
His gaze isn’t on the house. It’s fixed further down the road.
I follow it.
A smaller place, a little worn, the porch light still on even though no one’s there to walk up those steps anymore.
Dex exhales slowly, his jaw tightening as he nods toward it.
“D used to live there…”
The words hang heavy between us.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
“I can’t believe he’s not on this earth anymore…” he adds, quieter now, like saying it out loud might somehow make it more real.
There’s nothing I can say to that. Nothing that wouldn’t feel empty.
So I reach for his hand instead.
His fingers are cold when they lace with mine. I bring them to my lips and press a soft kiss against his knuckles, holding them there for just a second longer than necessary.
“I’m here.”
Dex looks back at me.
“Thank you, Tinker.”
“No need to thank me, Pan. I’m right where I want to be.”
I pull him into a hug, holding him close, and we stay like that for a while before I let go.
“Let’s go and see what we can do for your brother.”
Dex nods and gets out.
I step out of the car as he holds the door for me, the night wrapping around us, cooler here than it was at the ranch, quieter too.
I hesitate as we walk toward the house, something tightening in my chest.
“Are you sure he won’t mind me being here?” I ask softly.
Dex stops and turns to look at me fully this time. There’s something raw in his expression.
“I need you here, Tink.”
That settles it. I nod.
“Okay.”
We knock, but no one answers. The porch light hums faintly above us, and when I glance back toward the driveway, Jude’s truck is there.
“He’s here,” Dex murmurs, more to himself than to me.
Then he takes my hand again.
“Come on.”
We walk around the house toward the stables, the faint smell of hay and leather growing stronger with every step.
“I know where he is,” Dex says quietly.
The stable doors are half open. Inside, it’s dim, soft shadows stretching across the wooden beams, the low shuffle of hooves and the occasional breath of a horse the only sounds filling the space.
And then I see him.
Jude stands in one of the stalls, one hand resting against the neck of a black horse, his fingers moving slowly through its mane like he’s grounding himself in something that won’t disappear on him.
His head is bowed slightly. His shoulders heavy.
The horse stands perfectly still beneath his touch, head lowered, ears flicking occasionally, like it understands. Like it knows.
My chest tightens. I haven’t spoken to Jude much. Not really. Whenever he’s at the bar, I know he needs his space. He gives me small smiles before leaving, like he’s grateful for it.
I really like him. My dad was a bit of a loner, a quiet kind of man, and I always felt myself calm down when he was in the room. Jude is like that. A quiet force that doesn’t need attention, but you always know he’s there.
Seeing him like this, broken and hurting, makes something in me ache. I fight the urge to go to him, to wrap my arms around him, knowing that’s not what he needs.
“J,” Dex calls softly.
Jude’s head lifts slowly, his eyes finding us in the dim light. They’re glassy, red around the edges.
Dex doesn’t move right away.
“Okay if we stay with you a bit?” he asks, his voice careful, like he’s stepping onto fragile ground.
Jude’s gaze flicks to me for a brief second, then back to Dex, and he nods.
That’s all it takes.
Dex walks forward and pulls him into a hug.
And the second their arms wrap around each other, Jude breaks.
It’s not loud. Not dramatic.
But it’s deep. The kind of grief that comes from somewhere buried too far down, something you don’t fully understand until you lose someone who mattered.
I feel it in my own chest, my throat tightening as I take a few steps back, giving them space, letting them have this moment without me in it.
Time stretches, but I don’t mind.
The horses shift quietly in their stalls, the soft rustle of hay and the steady rhythm of breathing filling the silence between Jude’s broken exhales.
After a while, Dex looks up at me over Jude’s shoulder.
I nod. I’m okay.
He nods back, something grateful in his eyes.
Jude eventually pulls away, dragging a hand over his face before sinking down onto the hay-covered floor, his back hitting the wooden wall behind him.
For a moment, he just sits there, staring at nothing.
I step closer to Dex, lowering my voice.
“Does he have beers in the house?”
Dex glances at me, confusion flickering across his face.
“Trust me?” I ask softly.
There’s a beat. Then he nods, pulling his keys from his pocket and placing them in my hand without another question.
I head back toward the house, the quiet inside almost unsettling compared to the warmth we left behind at the ranch.
The kitchen light is still on.
I open the fridge, grabbing a handful of beers without really thinking, then head back out, the cool air hitting me again as I make my way toward the stables.
Both of them look up when I step inside.
For a second, I hesitate. Then Dex gives me a small smile.
So I walk over and sit down beside them, close enough to Dex that our shoulders touch, the warmth of him grounding me.
I hand each of them a beer.
They take it.
We open them at the same time, the soft hiss cutting through the quiet.
I take a sip, then exhale slowly.
“This part of life sucks,” I say, not looking at either of them.
Jude’s gaze shifts to me. He studies me for a long second, then nods once.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “It fucking does.”
I nod. There’s nothing else to add to that.
When I glance at Dex, his eyes are already on me. He mouths a quiet thank you.
We sit there like that for a while, the three of us.
No pressure.
No expectations.
Just the sound of the horses shifting, the occasional snort, the steady rhythm of breathing, and the quiet weight of something we can’t fix but don’t have to carry alone.
One beer turns into two, then three for them, while I stop at one, already knowing I’ll have to drive back.
Time loses shape as we sit beside Jude.
And then, finally…
“I used to call or text him every week. I can’t anymore.”
Jude’s voice cuts through the quiet, flat and hollow.
My chest tightens.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “That part sucks too. I’m so sorry, Jude.”
Because I know. God, I know how that feels.
The silence that follows is different. Heavier, but real.
I lift my almost empty beer bottle slightly, staring into the faint light flickering through the stable.
“Fuck death.”
For a second, neither of them moves.
Then Dex lifts his bottle and clinks it against mine.
“Fuck cancer.”
We both look at Jude.
After a pause, he lifts his own beer.
“Fuck young people dying.”
He taps his bottle against ours.
And we drink to that.