Chapter 14 #2
I shrug, pretending it doesn’t feel like lead in my chest remembering our joint overdose. Adriana had stormed in and called an ambulance. “Not sure yet. But at least I can see her.”
His brow furrows. He studies me for a long second, then exhales slowly. “Just be careful,” he pauses, leaning in and lowering his voice. “They’ll kill her, Jude.”
The words hit hard. I look away, jaw tight. “I won’t let that happen.”
“Still.” He taps his fingers against the table. “You don’t even know where she stands now. What if she’s—”
He hesitates.
“What?” I snap.
“What if she’s moved on?”
Damn it. I hadn’t even thought about that.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, yanking out my phone. My thumb hovers over her name for a second before I finally hit unblock.
Micah whistles. “Oh boy. Here we go.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, already scrolling through her socials.
Her profile picture loads—her smile still soft in that familiar way, but she looks.
..brighter somehow. Healthier. There’s this guy in one of the photos.
Blonde, gym body, blue eyes. His arm’s around her waist like he’s definitely been fucking her.
My stomach twists. “Fuck,” I say again, quieter this time.
Micah leans over to peek. “That the guy?”
“Guess so.”
He squints. “Hold on.” He takes my phone from me while I control the spiral threatening to take hold. “She’s not following him anymore, though. Probably broke up.”
“Yeah?”
He shrugs, handing my phone back. “I’m just saying. She doesn’t look like someone still tied down. Not with the way she was watching you last night.”
I exhale, running a hand through my hair. The thought of her being with someone else makes my chest hurt.
Micah nods. “I’m sure she still loves you. Your story was cut short by the bitch and the bastard.”
I sink back against the booth. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve never wanted to talk about the night I left—never wanted to open that wound. But maybe I owe her that much.
Hell, maybe I owe myself.
Even if all this just ends up being is healing for her, that’s enough. I take another sip of my drink, the ice rattling against my teeth. “I just...I need to see her again. Maybe just to tell her why everything happened like it did.”
Micah’s watching me closely, that knowing look in his eyes. “You still love her, huh?”
I don’t even try to deny it. “Never stopped, man.”
He nods once. “Then go see her,” he says. “But be careful. Please. Don’t tell her too much.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the plan.”
I drop Micah off at the house first. The car idles in the driveway, the hum of the engine matching the chaos inside my chest. He unbuckles, glancing at me. “You sure you’re good?”
I nod, staring straight ahead. “Yeah.”
His hand lingers on the door handle. “Jude…”
I look over.
He’s studying me with that look. He’s seen so much with me. “Don’t get stupid with her, okay? If Adriana finds out—”
My throat tightens. “She won’t,” I manage, though I’m not sure if I believe it. “I stopped sharing my location with her earlier. I’ll deal with them. I have to at least see her tonight. If I get punished for pushing it, so fucking be it.”
He nods once. “Her friend is really pretty.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, but it comes out hollow. “Heather? Oh Jesus Christ.”
He smirks faintly. “I definitely look forward to seeing her again.”
That gets a real smile out of me.
“What’s the plan?” he asks quietly.
I sigh, chewing my bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
He just smiles, and I can see that he is concerned. But instead of saying anything more, he turns and walks away.
I watch him disappear inside before I reach for the bag of coke in the center console. My fingers tighten around it, knuckles whitening. My body’s already starting to shake, faint tremors crawling up my arms.
Not now.
I shove the bag back into the glove box and slam it shut. Adriana and Nolan haven’t texted me today—thank fuck. When I finally pull out of the parking lot, streetlights bleed into streaks of gold against the dark. Every turn gets me closer to her. Every second, my heart beats harder.
By the time I reach the studio, the sky’s painted in violet dusk. She’s standing outside, locking the door, her braid falling over her shoulder. She turns at the sound of the car, and when our eyes meet, she smiles.
That smile used to be the only thing that I gave a shit about. Other than music.
I kill the engine and step out, my stomach a mess of nerves and butterflies that feel like I’m a fucking high schooler. “Hey,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I meant.
“Hey.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, watching me carefully. “You came. For some reason, I had a feeling you wouldn’t.”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pockets, forcing a slight grin. “Told you I would.”
She nods, glancing toward the studio door behind her, then back at me. “Do you want to talk here? Or…” Her lips part slightly before she finishes, “…at my place?”
My heart stops.
Her house. She’s inviting me there?
I swallow hard, trying to process it, trying to breathe normally. “Uh—”
She tilts her head, smiling again, softer this time. “Come on. You can follow me. It’s close.”
I don’t even get a chance to answer before she’s already heading for her green Subaru Outback. For a second, I stand there, watching her taillights flare red as she pulls out. Then I exhale sharply, like I’ve been holding my breath for seven goddamn years.
I walk back to the Audi, hands trembling. My gaze snaps down to where the coke is hidden, and I exhale slowly. I want to remember as much as I can tonight. I want to be as present as I can. So I start the car and follow her home, chasing the one person who ever made me feel alive.
The drive to her house feels like a dream. It’s crazy...I shouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for my recent spiraling, I wouldn’t even be in Seaside. My pulse won’t settle, my palms sweat against the wheel, and every red light feels like it’s mocking me for ever letting her go.
When she finally turns into a small neighborhood tucked behind the trees, I slow and follow her onto a gravel driveway.
The cottage in front of me looks like something out of a movie—soft porch light, ivy crawling up the sides, flower boxes under the windows.
It reminds me of a place someone builds when they’ve found peace.
I am suddenly even more uncomfortable. She’s got it good, and here I am, threatening all of it.
Just because I miss her. Just because I have a desperate hope that somehow, she can help us get out. I park beside her and kill the engine.
She steps out of her car, brushing a hand over her braid. “This is me,” she says quietly, like she’s almost embarrassed by how beautiful it is.
“It’s...perfect,” I manage. And it is. Everything about it feels her.
Before she can respond, she opens the front door, and a black German Shepherd bounds out, barking once before stopping short, ears perked.
“Nova,” she calls softly, smiling. “It’s okay, girl. He’s a friend.”
Nova eyes me warily, then trots closer, tail wagging. I kneel, letting her sniff my hand before she licks my scarred knuckles. I swallow, finding it more difficult than I should that she’s just created this beautiful little life. “She’s gorgeous,” I murmur.
Emma watches me with that familiar tenderness that used to make me tackle her to the bed. “She’s been my girl since college. Rescue.”
“Of course she is,” I say. “You always had a thing for saving strays.”
Her smile falters just slightly, but she turns and gestures for me to follow her inside.
The place smells like vanilla and old wood. There’s art everywhere—canvases propped along walls, half-finished sketches on the dining table. Books stacked in messy piles. It’s alive. And yet somehow calm.
I look around, jaw tight. “You did all this?”
She nods, hugging herself. “Mostly me. Some help from friends. I...needed somewhere quiet after school. Living alone after being with Heather for a few years was a little rough at first, but I adjusted.”
“I’m proud of you,” I say before I can stop myself.
Her eyes widen slightly, then soften. “Thanks, Jude.”
I move toward one of the paintings—the lake, maybe the one where we used to sneak out at night. The brushstrokes are familiar, the way she captures reflection and movement. I remember how she paints.
“It’s wild,” I say quietly. “You always said art was therapy. Guess you were right.”
“It helps,” she murmurs. Then, after a pause, “Are you hungry? I could order pizza. I don’t feel like cooking.”
I blink, almost laugh. Pizza. Like we’re just two normal people just catching up. “Yeah. Pizza sounds good.”
She pulls her phone out and scrolls through options.
I watch her, feeling really...weird about being in her presence right now.
“You still hate mushrooms?” she asks with a tilt of her head.
“Despise them entirely.”
“Some things never change,” she snorts softly, smiling again.
Her eyes flick up to mine, and for a moment neither of us speaks. The air between us feels thick with all the things we both want to say. The years, the distance...my chest hurts just looking at her.
After she places the order, she sets her phone down on the counter and leans back against it, arms folded again. Her gaze drifts over me—my messy hair, the faint tremor in my hands, the rings under my eyes. I know what she’s seeing. I imagine some of her clients are addicts.
“Who are you now, Jude?” she asks finally, her voice quiet but firm. “Really.”
I take a deep breath, then another, because I don’t know how to answer that. “Someone I don’t recognize half the time,” I admit. “Someone who’s trying not to disappear completely.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. “Are you...okay?”
I give a short laugh. “No. But I’m alive, aren’t I?”
She nods slowly, eyes glistening a little. “Thank god for that.”