43. Harlow
Harlow
“Harlow.” Jude sounded completely tortured as my name crossed his lips.
Tears pricked at my eyes. “I-I can explain—”
He dragged a hand through his hair, still soot covered and slicked back with sweat. His clothes were singed at the edges. “I should’ve stuck by you.”
“What?”
“I can’t bear to let you out of my sight again, sweetheart. If you’re mad at me, I want to talk. If you’re sad, cry on my shoulder. I’m here for you, and I don’t want to leave you.”
I gripped the porch railing tight, steadying myself. Before I could let my thoughts pour out of me, I asked, “Is Wells okay?”
“At the hospital. But he’s going to be fine.”
I exhaled, and relief flooded through me as I slumped against the railing. “I didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me. I’m so sorry about what happened. I should have been paying more attention. I put you all in danger. I want to—”
“Sorry?” His dark brows furrowed. “I don’t care about the damn barn, Harlow.
I care about you. It was a danger to you.
If it weren’t all ashes now I’d rip it down myself with my bare hands.
And fuck, sweetheart, you could have been nothing but ashes, too.
” He made a strangled sound and stepped closer to me.
“Thinking about losing you is the most terrifying part. So, listen. When I say that nothing matters more than you being here and being safe, I mean it.”
He wasn’t angry? My emotions were all mixed up from the adrenaline. The water brimming at the edges of my eyelashes finally spilled over.
“I’m here,” I promised him. “And I’m okay. But you shouldn’t have gone in there after me. How do you think losing you would’ve felt? Not just to me, but this entire town.”
The anguished look on his face slipped away and he shot me a lopsided smile. “Well, we made it out, didn’t we?”
I rushed forward, closing the space between us. “Jude Bramley. Never do that again.”
“You too, sweetheart. You scared me.”
His arms wrapped around me as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. He held me tight, and we stood together, just holding each other for a long moment, as the autumn breeze swept around us.
Eventually Jude pulled back an inch and asked, “Can I take you home?”
I nodded. That was all I wanted right now. He held me steady, with his arm over my shoulder, as we walked to his truck. He opened the red door and helped me step up.
I even had to swat his hands away from the seat belt.
“I can do that myself.”
“But I want to help.”
I let out a raspy laugh and buckled myself in. “Help us both by getting us home, Bramley.”
A few minutes later, we turned past Main Street, and I looked at Jude’s sharp profile against the fall backdrop outside his window.
“What about the farm?” I asked. “I want to sit down with you guys and talk about how I can repay you for the damages.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want a cent from you. There’s insurance for that and we have savings for the farm. It’s a fire—faulty wiring—on our property. It’s our responsibility.”
“But—”
“All I want is for you to focus on recovering. I want you to come home and lie in my bed and to let me take care of you.”
A few more tears breached my eyes, running down my hastily cleaned cheeks.
But they were tears of overwhelm, not sadness.
Everything hit my body at once, as I finally realized I was safe.
My adrenaline dropped, and there was time to cry.
I wasn’t afraid anymore. It was just bittersweet to slow down and feel.
“Okay,” I responded with a shaky smile.
There would be time to talk about all that had been brewing between Jude and me later, but for now he took me home. We avoided staring at the old barn as we passed by, the carnage would still be there in the morning.
He carefully walked us inside, and peeled my smoke drenched clothes off me, finally freeing my skin. I was left in just my underwear, and I let out a sigh of relief as I watched him do the same. Jude pulled me up the stairs and into his bathroom, before turning on the shower.
The room was large and clean, but a bit darker than his guest bathroom, with grey slate tiles and a few wooden accents. It smelled exactly like him, too—fresh pine and crisp apples.
When the room began to fill with steam, Jude inhaled the warm air and I heard him quietly mutter, “Good.” Then he turned to me. “I’ll be in the guest bathroom. Use anything you want in here.”
“Wait.” I reached for his hand, my dirty fingertips grasping at his wrist. “Stay.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to push you. You’ve been through a lot.” His concerned eyes trailed over my curves, dirtied by ashes.
I nodded. “It doesn’t have to be like that.” I reached to unclasp my bra. “I just want to be near you, Jude. I’d like it if you were here to hold me.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly. “Of course.”
As I undressed, his golden eyes were warm with an emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Not a raw hunger like I’d seen before, it was something more all encompassing.
I took his hand again, once he’d undressed as well, and pulled him into the walk-in shower. A sigh escaped me as hot water soaked my skin, washing away the chaos of today.
Jude picked up a bar of soap—one that looked like it was handmade, of course—and asked, “Can I help?”
“Only if I can do the same for you.”
“As if I’d say no to that.”
His lathered hands ran over my skin gently, as if he was afraid I might disappear if he pressed too hard.
He was dedicated and thorough as he covered me in suds, washing away all my fear and worries.
His touch wasn’t leading, it was perfect for this moment—us together, him holding me upright.
I felt fragile, but with every brush over my body, he seemed to be knitting me back together again.
When he reached the nape of my neck, he whispered, “Can I?”
“Please,” I groaned as his hands massaged my scalp with shampoo. I could see the ashes caught in my hair slipping down the drain. There was a weight lifted off me as they disappeared.
By the end of our shower, I was tired and wobbly, in the best way possible. That kind of scrubbed clean that felt incredible against fresh sheets. Jude dried me off with a thick towel and led us into his bedroom. He tucked me beneath his soft bedding.
Seconds later, my eyes were already fluttering shut as he crawled into bed beside me. I caught just a glimpse of him as he pressed a kiss to my forehead and murmured, “Good night, sweetheart.”
Despite the nightmares on the edge of my tired mind, I slept soundly with him there.