Chapter 33
Here Without You
As curious as I am about the marked pages in my notebook, the first thing I want to do is pull off my work clothes, climb into Jude’s Braves T-shirt, and face-plant in my bed.
I shamelessly sniff for any trace of wintergreen and leather or whatever habit-forming substance that must be in his shampoo.
“Thank you for the shelf,” I tell him over a video call. “It’s so perfect. I never bothered to get one because everywhere I live feels temporary. What do I owe you?”
He grins at me while running a towel over his wet hair, breaking my heart a little when he hangs it over his bare shoulder, covering the artwork. “You never owe me, Punk. Aunt Judy was cleaning out and asked if I wanted it. I thought it would fit there, and it did.”
He downplays all he does for me, but I see it. I see him.
It’s still hard to believe he does these little things because he loves me and not just because he’s a nice guy.
“And the lights make the room look … enchanted! It’s the perfect reading vibe. I love it.” I gush like an excited kid. He knew it would make me happy, so he just did it. Such a simple thing but it feels big to me.
“Why didn’t you ask me before? You know I would’ve done it.”
“I needed sticky hooks,” I say with an overwhelming desire to crawl through the screen and attach myself to his person. And maybe sniff his hair.
He shrugs. “Eh, I found clear thumbtacks.”
“I’m not supposed to put holes in the walls.”
“I won’t tell.” He winks. “Find anything interesting yet?”
“Other than your interior design skills, not yet. You cleaned. Weirdo.” I roll over with my phone in hand. “But Jace was being all serious, so I haven’t investigated much. I think he had a hard night.”
Jude winces in understanding. “That happens sometimes. Was he a prick?”
“No, he wasn’t. That’s what concerned me.
” I release a breathy laugh, loving the way he genuinely cares about what I’m saying.
“Hey … umm. Nathan showed up at Pop’s yesterday.
” Jude stiffens and leans closer to the screen.
“Lainey said he was angry, and he told Dave I wasn’t really visiting my mom.
He said I was in Nashville … cheating on him.
Nothing unexpected, but Jace was adamant I tell you. ”
“Okay.” He nods. “Just quit.”
“Jude.” I smile, because he has to be joking. “I can’t quit. I can’t leave Lainey like that, and I have school fees coming up. I can’t drain my account.”
He rubs one eye with the heel of his hand before raking his fingers through his hair, inhaling a slow breath. “I can handle whatever you need, Lu. When classes start back, you can apply for a work-study job like Sam has, or I can talk to my mom. She might have an opening for something you’d like.”
He’d take care of me without thinking twice. Truth be told, he’d do it for any of us, but I can’t let him. The status of our relationship has shifted enough this weekend without adding Sugar Daddy to his title.
“I know you’d snap your fingers and fix everything, but I can’t shift gears that fast. I’m looking for another job.”
His jaw tightens, and a bit of helplessness creeps over his expression, but I try to reassure him I’ll be okay.
“Jace inspected every inch of this property when I got home, and Nathan works nights through Thursday. He won’t wake up early enough to bother me.
He might be off work Friday, but Annie and the guys could come eat while I’m working, and by then my hot CEO rock-star boss man will be on his way home to me.
” I grin, silently begging him not to worry.
His lips twitch before his smirk comes out to play. “All right, Punk. My terms are that someone comes with you anytime you step foot outside, your door stays locked at all times, and I get to kiss you as much as I want when I get home.”
“Deal.” I smile lazily at him from my nest of pillows as he lies back onto his hotel bed.
His body relaxes, and the brief tension fades. “Check under your pillow before you fall asleep.”
We’re both tired, so we don’t stay on the phone long, but curiosity fuels me enough to look before I turn off the lights.
I retrieve my favorite rock-star romance from beneath the sea of pillows and turn pages until I see Jude’s personal annotations with my tropical-colored sticky notes.
Nothing fancy, just a few words in his quirky left-leaning scrawl, like “relatable” when the sparks fly at the main characters’ meet-cute and “I prefer peaches” where the scent of tea tree oil is mentioned.
Skimming pages, I giggle out loud as the purple, pink, and teal notes escalate with his commentary. “He wrote her a song after meeting her once?!” “How can I compete with this?” “JUST KISS ALREADY!”
Jude’s sticky-note musings make me smile until my face hurts and I can barely hold my bleary eyes open. He must’ve written these notes Friday night when we talked on the phone.
Before Nashville.
In my bed.
The notes grow sweeter and more personal starting around page twenty-eight.
“I know how he feels.”
“I’m done holding back.”
“Can we just kiss already?”
Some girls get “Good Morning, Beautiful” texts.
Not me. I get good-morning songs.
Songs.
I don’t know what to do with this much attention, and he’s not even here.
Jude has sent me a video every morning this week.
My favorite by far has been his shirtless, steamy bathroom mirror rendition of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” Wet hair, chest glistening, and Lucy’s kaleidoscope eyes dripping diamonds are on full, gloriously sexy display as he strums and sings softly for my gentle morning wake up call.
That ninety-second video has been replayed an embarrassing number of times, and is now securely backed up to my phone, a laptop, and two thumb drives.
Sweet and sassy texts appear throughout the day, and he calls every night.
I may be slightly obsessed, and it terrifies me.
Sam and Jace have been merciless with their teasing, spontaneously bursting into sappy love songs anytime I look at my phone while we share the leftovers I’ve brought home.
Annie finally rejoined us last night, and I’ve lived on a steady diet of “told ya so” ever since she tornadoed back through our front door with Jace trailing behind carrying her purple travel bag and latte.
She knows exactly how much power she has over him. And the way poor Mr. Stark avoids my smirk tells me he knows I know she knows.
He looks after me out of familial duty, but he does her bidding like a spiritual calling.
The book under my pillow was merely the beginning of a trail of notes and tiny illustrations I’ve found all over my room, bathroom, and kitchen this week.
The weirdo plays guitar, shoots a basketball, and throws right-handed.
It’s only when we eat together or I see his handwriting that I remember he’s a lefty. And he’s left his mark everywhere.
My bathroom mirror has a crooked heart and the words I Volunteer written at the bottom corner with some type of marker that I secretly hope never comes off, and a four-pack of energy drinks was left in the fridge with a note that says, “Each can will cost you a kiss.”
Good thing I’m the only one who drinks these.
When I turn to the page he marked in my notebook, I’m temporarily mortified. I forgot it was wide open on my desk.
He might tease me a little about finding his own words, but he gets it. He writes too. If anything, he’ll encourage me to write more the same way he constantly coaxes me to sing.
“If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight without kissing you so thoroughly you couldn’t wait to come home to me.”
I never wanted to forget those words even if they were only hypothetical.
His slanty handwriting in the margin grips me by the heart.
“I’m ready when you are.”
Nobody wake me.
The next page has a hand-drawn guitar chord diagram reminiscent of the tabs Joey used to draw me when I was a kid. I follow the dots on his perfectly straight tabs, strumming through his instructions on my guitar.
“All I Have To Do Is Dream.”
He either didn’t sleep the night he stayed in my room or was up long before the sun, but one thing is clear: I was always the plan.
There haven’t been any more angry messages from Nathan, and I’ve slowly made my way through answering friends who saw the video of Sam’s show.
Most were just shocked, asking if it was really me or some doppelg?nger.
It’s no secret that I like to sing, but that particularly public event was about ten miles outside my comfort zone and everyone knows it.
Alex: What the heck was THAT?
Joey: Was that so hard? All I ever asked you to do was play rhythm, and now you’re willing to sing? Brat.
My Nathan-induced hyper-awareness, expecting the unexpected at all times, has slowly dissipated and been replaced with something almost like contentment. It feels so good to sit around watching movies after work and not hesitate when Sammy mentions writing together or recording backing tracks.
The guys fell asleep in the living room after watching a season of Full House, and Annie and I tossed some blankets on them and went to bed without a care in the world.
My guard is lowering. Part of me knows better, but even without Jude physically near, this week has been so peaceful.
I can breathe.
By Friday all I can think about is seeing Jude. My wake-up call is live and in real time but brief, since he’s trying to pack up before class.
He strums the last few notes of “Heaven” by Warrant before closing his guitar back in its case. “Are you ready for me to koala the heck out of you all weekend?”
“So ready,” I say, willing myself to climb out of bed and get ready for the day while he watches me through the screen.
He hesitates slightly before asking his next question. “Would you want to go to church and visit with Aunt J Sunday?”
“Of course.” I smile, loving the possibilities of our new normal together. “Might as well get the I-told-you-sos out of the way.”
“You can count on that.” His grin spreads warmth through my belly. I love how happy he looks. “I’m not sure what time I can leave town. You know how Friday traffic is, but I’ll try to let you know when I leave or if I get stuck anywhere. I can’t wait to see you. Have a good day, Punk.”
I echo his sentiment and end the call, but my phone lights up with his face again before I can put it down.
“Hey,” he says when I answer.
“Miss me already?” I tease, expecting a reminder to lock the door, but his reply doesn’t hold the same playful tone.
“I love you,” he says softly with a needy tug at my heart. “If I’ve learned anything this week, it’s that I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
“I love you too, Jude Daniel. Hurry up and get yourself home to me.”
As usual, Annie is first to break the morning silence from her perch at our kitchen bar.
“So, what do you do when you realize all your dreams have come true?”
She slides a container of oatmeal raisin cookies over to me, and the sweet aroma of cinnamon speaks to my very soul.
I snort a laugh as I pop open my can of liquid ambition. “Crap, Annie. Do I owe you money?”
She giggles. “Nah. No debts to pay. It just felt appropriate after watchin’ all those videos of you and Sam on stage over and over.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a dream—maybe a repressed bucket-list item. Editing all that video footage was probably mind-numbing. Sorry about that.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare apologize. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I sing all the time. I even sing in public sometimes.”
“Yeah, but not like that.” She aims a chocolate chip cookie at me like a laser pointer. “That wasn’t just singin’. That was a whole experience.”
“That was a highly dramatized version of me—for Sam.” I swipe the cookie and take a bite.
“Well, it was nice to see you playin’ the part of your-freakin’-self for once.”
“Thanks.” I shrug, hoping to move on from this topic. “I tried to feed his energy without taking attention off him.”
“Honey, you never looked better.” She smirks, fanning her face as she rises from her stool.
“Especially at the end. Woo, girl. Goin’ all in like that made Sam shine.
More than the usual Sammy sunshine. You were like a cape, and he became …
” She juts her chin to the side with hands on her hips in a stalwart hero stance. “Super Shiny.”
We dissolve into giggles, sputtering into hysterics that render us red-faced and silent from lack of oxygen.
“Oh, my goodness, it wasn’t even that funny,” I choke out, still wheezing through tears as we lean on the bar and grip each other for support.
“Pfft, please. I’m freakin’ hilarious.” She waves me off. “But for real, Lu Lu. That’s how all relationships should work. Your light doesn’t snuff out anyone else’s, but if that’s how they feel … Too dang bad. Light ’em up anyway.”
“You and Sammy should start a fortune cookie business,” I say, reaching for an oatmeal raisin cookie.
“Oooh, like aggressively positive affirmations?” Her brows perk up with interest.
“Something like that.”
My phone vibrates on the counter, sending a zing of anticipation through me. I’ve lived for Friday all week long and I’m anxious for an update on Jude’s ETA, so I open the message without looking.
But it isn’t Jude.