Chapter 36 Reason to Stay
Reason to Stay
I’ve never been one to complain about time passing too slowly. I usually feel like life’s barreling at me faster than I can run, which admittedly is not fast, but the last few weeks have been some of the most torturously slow of my life.
I can confirm, with absolute certainty, I hate being away from Jude Daniel Crawford.
Loathe.
Zero stars.
Do not recommend.
Pin me with the clingy girlfriend badge. I’ll own it. But I can admit, we’ve been forced to communicate in ways other than kissing since he’s been gone, which may not have happened otherwise. We’ve always talked, but our feelings hid in plain sight behind our flirty little song and dance.
We’re still dancing. We’re still flirting.
But we’re not afraid to say what we mean.
Especially since fall semester has begun and I’m taking two accelerated courses myself.
If we need to study, we talk and then we study.
If we’re tired, we check in and then we sleep.
There’s no shutting down or pulling away, only honest, consistent communication.
And maybe some extra whining and chocolate, which I’ve had to counter with extra squats, crunches, and dumbbell reps. I don’t know why I can’t eat anything of nutritional value without him here. It’s not like ingesting a vegetable would make me feel worse.
Not that I have much to complain about. Jude still makes me laugh and feel loved from three hundred miles away.
Jude Daniel (Take a Sad Song and Make it Sexy) Crawford: Want some cheese?
Me: Cheese me up, Baby.
Jude Daniel (Take a Sad Song and Make it Sexy) Crawford: My head’s in real estate ethics, but my heart is with you.
Me: Oh, sir. That was extra super cheesy.
Jude Daniel (Take a Sad Song and Make it Sexy) Crawford: Smothered in queso.
Me: Now you’re just trying to seduce me. ??
Sammy’s got nothing on Jude when it comes to loving out loud. I’ve been spoiled in ways I would’ve never imagined. In addition to my morning songs, my car’s clean with a full tank of gas every Sunday.
I find sticky notes and tiny gifts all over my room and car, like Easter eggs, and Jace has apparently been instructed to bring me energy drinks every week, with a judgy glare thrown in free of charge.
After one particularly tough night at work, Sam showed up at midnight to bring me the throw blanket from Jude’s bed since that was as close as I could get to him on a Thursday.
His first weekend home, we tested our new family dynamic, which, as it turns out, wasn’t much of a change. According to Annie, between our failure to launch last New Year’s Eve and the fake dating at coffee shop gigs, nothing short of a full-on make-out would’ve fazed anyone.
“I have a confession,” Jude said somberly as we drove back from a townhouse village in Blountville the first Friday night he came home from Nashville. If he hadn’t just licked the back of my hand, I might’ve been concerned.
“What? You’re part Great Dane?” I laughed, wiping my hand on his shirt.
“I can’t help it. You smell like strawberry pie.” He turned his eyes on me with a heated glance. “You still have that can of whipped cream?”
“Eyes on the road, you dirty hippie.” I smacked his leg. “What’s your confession?”
“That night at the coffee shop …” He scrunches his nose. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“When the girl was hanging around and I pulled you into my lap … I knew if I just told you how I felt, you’d feel guilty and even more conflicted.” He brought my hand to his lips again, tickling it with his scruff. “You always say you want me to lead, so I made an executive decision.”
“I was conflicted, and you went with your gut. What’s the problem, Boss Man?”
“Maybe confession wasn’t the right word. Sometimes I see how things need to be, and I handle it.”
“I know. I’m a big fan.”
“But I took it way too far that time. There’s never been a time when putting my arms around you was a game, Lu. If PDA makes you uncomfortable, you should probably tell me now because I don’t intend to keep a respectable distance ever again.”
“Good thing your name’s on my unrespectable distance list.” I rested my head against his arm.
“There’s a list?” he playfully scoffed, kissing my head.
“A short one. Only you.”
We enjoyed church with Aunt Judy and the uncles on Sunday and gave her ample opportunity to get all the I-told-you-sos out of her system over lunch.
Later, Jude’s mom, Kerry, and her husband, Rob, had us over for pizza.
Nothing fancy, since their schedules had been hectic in Jude’s absence, but they wanted to see us—both of us, according to Jude.
His brother, Evan, had just left for school in Florida the previous weekend as well, so the evening was casual and relaxed, just like their sprawling single-level home with a rocking chair front porch.
A beautiful deck extending from the sliding glass doors of their dining room was clearly the family hub.
It was furnished with enough comfortable seating for a crowd, with a gorgeous view of the sunset framing the rolling Tennessee hills in the distance.
I’d always lived in small subdivisions with tight rows of houses or older neighborhoods hidden from the main road.
Exploring the wooded areas behind our rental houses usually led to discoveries like empty liquor bottles and cigarette butts, so I usually preferred the subdivisions.
They always felt temporary, though. Because they were.
The Crawford family home had a healthy mix of welcoming accessibility, with visible neighbors in the front and a wide stretch of land edged with a row of pines in the back. It seemed to whisper stories of catching frogs in the creek and playing hide-and-seek after dark. It felt like a home.
Kami grabbed my hand in the kitchen and held her wrist with matching bracelets against mine.
“We’re still best friends!” She announced.
Then she asked if she could call me Aunt Lucy.
I nearly spewed my soda, but Jude ruffled her hair and told her point-blank, “Yes,” then proceeded to carry her plate to a child-size picnic table as if he didn’t just confirm his life plans to a six-year-old.
His sister, Sydney, met my eyes with a satisfied smirk and a wink—a family trait, apparently. “I knew it!”
She was reserved but nice whenever I’d seen her pick up Kami. This time, she sidled up next to me during dinner and treated me like we were destined to be sisters for life.
“I always liked you, but I was mad you dated the other guy so I kept my distance,” she confessed quietly.
“It’s okay. I’m still mad I dated the other guy.”
“Yeah, me too.” Jude grinned, overhearing us as he brought me a brownie. He wasn’t lying about PDA either, keeping me tucked under his arm or a hand on my knee all evening. Respectfully.
For the second weekend of our unfortunate separation, I drove up to Mom’s house, and Jude stayed there with me.
I heard the weariness in his voice from balancing remote work and studying.
I thought he needed a break from traveling, but we soon discovered we don’t enjoy sharing each other’s attention with anyone else while our time together is so limited.
Still, he fit right in, playing basketball with us in the cul-de-sac and cleaning up around me while I cooked dinner even though he was obviously tired. Never once was he rude or distant, just a little bit softer and snugglier. Somehow it made me love him even more.
Layla begged us to rescue my very first guitar from her closet. The poor thing was in sad shape with broken strings and spongy dry-rotted bits of the case stuck to it, but Jude was ecstatic to have a project to work on.
“This is a classic!” He beamed. “I’ve got strings and a tool kit in the truck.”
“Seriously?” I laughed.
He lit up with boyish excitement. “What? I like to be prepared.”
My old Peavey sounded brand-new in an hour, and we sat on the floor singing together, hopping from song to song just like we always do.
Jude explored all our childhood photos around the house.
He’d looked before but took his time noting how similar we all looked other than hair and eye colors.
Mom betrayed me with a box of pictures that sadly included my plump middle school years, but I had Sydney’s number locked and loaded in my contacts.
I knew she’d have my back. My phone was inundated with photos almost instantly.
From the adorable scraggly-haired boy in a tux playing the violin to the gangly baby-faced skateboarder, all the way to … wow.
I’m glad we didn’t meet until I was older. Because that sweaty baseball player with brown hair curling around the catcher’s mask flipped up on his head—way out of my league.
“Dang.”
He glanced at what caught my attention, mirroring the smirky little smirk in the photo. His arm was slung around a skinny pitcher with familiar spiky black hair and unmistakable ice-blue eyes.
“Aww, look at baby Douche Waffle.”
“I thought you had a thing for catchers.”
“Absolutely, I do.” I fanned myself. “Was this high school?”
“That was a summer pitchers and catchers clinic right before my freshman year of college.”
“I didn’t know you played after high school.”
“Just one season. Mostly to get Jace in the door, but I didn’t like the atmosphere.
I loved playing but not enough to put it before everything else in my life.
Jace was tired of the politics and pressure by senior year too.
He turned down a baseball scholarship, but academics carried us, so it wasn’t a huge loss. ”
His eyes held the same goodness at every age. The quiet confidence that makes him a natural leader who holds himself to the highest standard and attempts to right every wrong in his path.