Chapter 21
Frankie
A clumpof dirt flies past my face, hitting Bree straight in the chest.
She sputters and jabs her spade into the ground, point down. “Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry!” Juniper giggles and resumes her digging. A brown weed sails through the air and smacks her in the cheek. “What the hell!”
Bree cackles, clutching her sides and falling onto her butt. “You deserve it.”
“If either of you crush Mom’s flowers, she’s going to kill you both and bury you beneath the garden.” Cortney settles onto the ground next to me and hands me a covered Mason jar with a straw. “Thank god I remembered the lids, or we’d all be drinking Mudgaritas with the way these two dig like children. Don’t worry, I made yours and Whitney’s a virgin. Jude told me you don’t drink,” she whispers in my ear.
“Thanks,” I murmur, fighting the intense blush rising to my cheeks. My drink might be a virgin, but I’m not any longer. And the man responsible is out there somewhere making sure his family knows how I like my drinks since they banned him from accompanying me here.
The twinge of soreness between my thighs makes itself known as I shift to set my drink down behind me. I lick my lips and tilt my face to the sun. The heat feels nice after the week of rain and hides my blush. Not that I’m embarrassed, but I’d rather not invite invasive questions.
Jude’s incredibly secretive, and not knowing how much his family is privy to, I’m not interested in revealing more than he’s comfortable with.
If he wants to share that we’re sleeping together, that’s his prerogative. I’d never hide my interest in him, but I can understand if he wants to keep me a secret.
The life I currently embody isn’t exactly a show-winning prize. I’m poor, homeless, jobless. Not exactly the qualities you brag about to Mom and Dad.
I mean, we’re not even in a relationship.
There isn’t anything for him to tell.
But being surrounded by women my age is a novel experience for me, and I feel the desire to confide. The urge bubbles up, begging for a release from these chaotic, conflicting emotions.
How can I feel so much for someone who I’ve known for such a short amount of time?
I chase them back down with an icy sip.
“How are you doing, Frankie?” Whitney asks, plopping to her knees beside me. She sets a tray of hostas beside her hip and rests a hand on her small round belly.
“I’ve been good.” I shade my eyes with my casted hand.
“When do you get that off?”
“Hopefully within the next couple of weeks. I’m ready to regain full function of my hand again.”
“You know, I never did hear what happened. You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t want you to think we don’t care. Jude hasn’t been forthcoming either. He just said he found you after you had an accident.”
“I can imagine not.” I shift my eyes to the side and chew on my lower lip.
If I want to have girlfriends to confide in, this might be the proper first step. Nothing too personal, but enough to be vulnerable.
Whitney bumps her shoulder with mine. “You can’t blame me for being curious. You walked into my work, wearing a dirty wedding dress, with my very withdrawn brother-in-law who looked like he was contemplating murder.”
Despite being outside, it feels as if the entire world falls quiet. The bickering women beside us even halt their friendly dispute.
I suck in a slow breath, smelling the sweetness of spring and the earthy scent of the torn garden bed. My smile is brittle as I let my shoulders fall and tell them my tale.
In the end, I wait for the flash of shame. The discomfort to rise like the tide in my stomach.
In the end, all I feel is relief.
“Oh, honey.” Cortney wraps me in a tight hug. “Fuck that Dillon guy. You don’t need a man like that.”
“You really don’t remember?” Juniper asks, her cupped hands hiding her frown.
“I don’t. I remember pieces, but the conversation is distorted. The next thing I can clearly recall is walking through the trees.”
“You are a literal Bad. Ass,” Bree breathes.
A smile teases my lips. “Thanks.”
“Makes sense,” Cortney says, digging a weed from the dirt and tossing it aside.
“What makes sense?” I ask.
“Jude. The way he was watching you. It didn’t make sense to me at first. Now it does.”
“He’s a little protective.”
“Seems to me like it’s a two-way street.” Bree winks.
“Oh gosh, leave her alone,” Whitney jumps in. “I’m thrilled Jude has someone looking after him. He’s all alone in that big house.”
“He has his dogs,” I state quietly. “I can understand why he likes it.”
“I think he prefers having you.” Cortney’s eyes are averted as she digs out a particularly deep rock.
My heart flutters at her words. The thought of Jude finding my company something other than a nuisance fills me with a sense of belonging. Somewhere along this turbulent course, we’ve shifted. I feel it. And I hope Jude feels it too.
My feelings for him have grown, but they don’t have to become complicated.
The screen door opens behind us, and Nancy pokes her head out. “I have lunch on the table if any of you girls are ready for a break.”
Girlish groans of protest fill the air as one by one the Powell women file inside. I jump up last, holding my hand out for Whitney.
“Can we adopt you? You’re nice. Nicer than my other so-called sisters,” she yells teasingly at the door.
“From what I’ve heard, I’d fit right in with Nancy’s brood.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The best part is you never have to worry about being judged.” She squeezes my bicep as we walk inside. “We’ve pretty much seen and heard it all.”
I think of Jude’s confession, and how he seems to carry around so much shame despite the family he grew up with. They love him. I wish there was a way to help him see just how much.
Nancy’s spread contains an assortment of dips, crackers, cheese, processed meats, deli sandwiches from the local shop in town, and two kinds of pasta salad. A perfect spring lunch.
We commune around a large table with a colorful centerpiece, just six women enjoying small-town gossip and sisterhood. The way it should be.
“How much do we have left today?” Cortney sips her margarita.
“I’d like to get the hostas in the ground. You girls did such a good job on prepping the flower boxes, if you take care of the big garden, I can get to those tomorrow.”
“You sure you don’t need help?” Bree brushes the crumbs from her fingers over her plate.
Nancy’s smile turns wistful. “I don’t think so. I think if you move them to the back porch, I’d like to sit out there in the sun and work on them.”
Cortney touches her mom’s hand, something unspoken passing between them.
“My husband, Terrance, used to plant the flowers with me. I feel close to him when I’m tending the garden.”
Her words from the other day about gardening becoming more difficult come to mind. I swallow down a flash of heartache at her obvious loss.
I’ve never had to consider what it might be like to lose someone you loved so deeply because I’ve spent my life being betrayed by those who were supposed to love me most. I built walls to keep myself safe. Walls I didn’t even know I had until Jude started to help me tear them down.
“That’s really beautiful,” I say quietly.
“Our marriage really was,” Nancy replies. “He gave me so much. Every one of you is a piece of that.” Her gaze circles the table, stopping briefly on me.
I wonder what she sees. The woman determined to make a fresh start or a burden for one of her middle sons?
“I think Cortney should whip up another round of margaritas before someone starts crying,” Bree says, fanning her face.
“Speak for yourself,” Whitney chokes into a paper napkin as Juniper rubs her back. “It’s the hormones!”
We burst into laughter.
The doorto Jude’s house creaks behind me and closes with a quiet thud. The clack of paws across the hardwood greets me, their excited panting obvious above the commotion of me removing my shoes.
It’s late afternoon. After finishing our lunch and another round of drinks, the girls and I spent the rest of the day planting and moving Nancy’s garden boxes. The smile on her face made the task more than worth it, but I could probably use a shower.
The gate clicks shut at my back. A light flickers from the rarely used living room. My investigation of the source is delayed by the group of enthusiastic dogs butting against me for pets.
Who am I to deny them?
They offer an excuse to slow down despite my eager body nagging me to find Jude. The muscles in my legs tense, preparing to run into his arms the second he appears in the doorway.
Nervous energy zips down my limbs. I straighten and fluff my fingers through my hair. It’s a mess, and no amount of prepping the dirty strands will fix it. If he’s shocked by a little sweat-head, then he isn’t the man I think he is.
Considering he’s the guy who screwed me after finding me caked in mud, I think I have a pretty good read on exactly who Jude Powell is.
I stop in the doorway and lean against it. “Hey.”
Even from across the room, his gaze feels like a physical caress. His stare roams lazily from head to toe, lingering in no particular place for too long.
“You’re done early.” He doesn’t usually finish up until closer to dinner, and not once in the last several weeks has he watched TV. I’m not even sure if he’s aware it’s on right now with the way he’s looking at me.
“Couldn’t focus.”
“Something wrong?”
“Come here, Frankie.”
His voice grits across my skin like the scratch of sandpaper against a rough piece of wood. I shiver at the coarse tone.
“I’m really dirty.” I hold my arms out to display my soiled shirt.
“Either you come here or I’m coming over there.”
The order pulls me from my stationary spot by the wall.
“That’s not much of a threat. I like when you do all the work, and I don’t like to be told what to do.”
“You should get used to it.”
“Yeah?” I stop close but not touching him as the thrill of his words races up my spine.
Jude leans forward, snags my hand, and drags me into his lap. My thighs split into a straddle over his.
“Yeah.” He leans back, hands tight on my hips, just holding me as he studies my face with hooded eyes. “Kiss me.”
My stomach flips. With his attention firmly on my mouth, I can’t help but run my tongue over my lips. A groan rumbles in his chest, and his fingers convulse, squeezing me. His palms spanning across my hips make me feel small in his hold.
“Baby, kiss me.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Resting my hands on his broad shoulders, I lean in. My eyes flutter closed as my lips touch his.
He lets me lead, lets me explore the feel of his mouth under mine. A current runs through me as I touch his tongue, zipping through my body as he groans and opens. I slide closer against him, pressing my thighs deep into the couch.
Jude rolls his hips, his impressive bulge unyielding against my clit. I whine into his mouth. He pulls away to nip my lip.
“That’s the kind of kiss I expect to get whenever you get home.”
I can’t help rocking against him. “I think that’s an order I can follow.”
“Good.”
“Everything okay?” I ask again, wondering what precipitated this new request.
Palming the back of my head, he pulls my forehead to his and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I missed you.”
I cup his cheeks, feeling the stubble prick my palms. “I missed you too.”
“They were good to you?”
“Jude, you never have to worry about your family. They’re always good to me. Too good.”
His eyes drift to the side in thought. “You deserve what they give you and more.” He plants a sweet kiss on my forehead, and I close my eyes.
“So do you,” I say quietly, toeing the invisible line.
His throat works over an audible swallow, and he nods sharply.
Once.
Hmm.
I might have a long way to go to get him to believe it, but slow progress is still progress.