Chapter 26 Jude
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jude
The cocoa goes cold on the counter.
I notice it because it is the only quiet thing in the room, a mug sitting there untouched while everything else feels like it’s vibrating at the wrong frequency.
Maisie sits at the table now, legs swinging, shoulders a little hunched, both hands wrapped around the mug like she’s afraid it might disappear. Her glasses keep sliding down her nose, and she pushes them back up with her knuckle, eyes darting between faces.
She doesn’t understand the words being thrown around, but she understands the tone. Kids always do.
I watch my sister from across the room.
Amber stands stiffly near the door, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red and hollow all at once. I can see the hurt in her. I can see how deep it runs, how fresh it still is, how it has cracked her open and left everything raw.
She has always been volatile when she is hurting, always swinging between sharp and soft with no warning.
I love her.
And I’m scared of her right now.
“Maisie,” Amber says, voice smoothing out as she looks at her daughter. “Finish your drink, okay, baby?”
Maisie nods quickly and takes another careful sip.
Norah hovers nearby, quiet and watchful, hands folded in front of her. She has that calm she slips into when things go sideways, like she’s anchoring herself for the sake of everyone else.
I catch her eye, and she gives me a small, reassuring nod that makes my chest tighten.
Ryker stands closer to me, arms crossed, shoulders tense. I can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.
He’s holding it back, but barely.
Amber exhales slowly. “I just want to say something.”
Every muscle in my body locks.
“I’m grateful,” she continues. “I really am. You all stepped up when I couldn’t. You took care of her. You gave her stability. I’ll never forget that.” Her eyes flick to Norah, sharp. “Even if some people got a little too comfortable.”
“That’s enough,” I warn quietly.
Amber scoffs. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“Watch how you talk to her,” Ryker snaps, finally losing some of his restraint. “She has done nothing but show up for Maisie.”
Norah opens her mouth, probably to defuse it, but I cut in first.
“Amber,” I say, keeping my voice steady by sheer force of will. “We know you’re hurting. But this isn’t the way to handle it.”
She turns on me then, eyes blazing. “You don’t get to tell me how to be a mother.”
“I’m not her father,” I reply evenly. “But I am her uncle, and I’m allowed to care when something feels wrong.”
Her laugh is bitter. “What feels wrong is that I didn’t get a say in any of this. You took her without telling me.”
“To protect her,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “You needed space. We did what we had to do. And you told me to keep her.”
“Well, now I’m here,” she says. “And as her mother, I know what’s best for her.”
Ryker shifts beside me. “The best place for Maisie is Fox Hollow. She’s getting used to people here. She’ll make friends here. She can grow up right here, with a community that cares about her, right by her side.”
Amber’s eyes flash. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“You did,” Ryker says. “The first time you left her here. And when you asked Jude to keep her for the holidays.”
Silence slams down hard.
Then Amber does something that makes my stomach drop.
She smiles.
It’s thin and brittle and full of something ugly underneath. “Funny,” she says softly. “You all sure moved on fast from Claire.”
Ryker flinches like she has slapped him.
“That’s a low blow,” he growls.
Amber shrugs. “Is it? Or am I just stating the obvious? You lost someone, and you found a way to replace her, but now that I want to deal with my grief by taking care of the only part of my life that I actually care about, y’all want to play righteous advocates.
You don’t get to judge me for how I’m healing.
I’m not judging you for how you chose to. ”
“Don’t,” I snap. “Do not bring her into this.”
“She was my friend too,” Amber fires back. “And she’s gone. Just like my baby. Funny how life keeps taking things from me, huh?”
Maisie’s mug rattles against the table as she sets it down, hands shaking.
Norah moves immediately, crouching beside her. “Hey,” she says gently. “Why don’t we grab your jacket, okay?”
Amber turns toward her. “I’ll do that.”
“I have it,” Norah replies softly. “It’s no trouble.”
Amber’s lips curl. “You really like playing house, don’t you?”
“Amber,” I warn, voice tight. “Be careful.”
She holds my gaze for a long second, then waves a dismissive hand. “Fine. Go.”
Norah takes Maisie’s hand and leads her down the hallway. Maisie glances back once, eyes big behind her glasses, then disappears around the corner.
The door clicks shut behind them. The room feels smaller with them gone.
Ryker drags a hand through his hair. “This isn’t okay.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “She can’t just take her.”
“I’m not unstable,” Amber snaps. “I’m grieving, and I don’t appreciate you talking about me like I’m not in the fucking room with you.”
“I know,” I repeat. “But grief doesn’t give you the right to uproot her life. You’re not going back home, Amber. You—”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And she’s my niece,” I say. “And I love her.”
Her shoulders sag for just a second, like the fight drains out of her. Then she straightens again.
“We’re going to visit,” she says. “I’m not disappearing. But I can’t stay here. This is your home, Jude, not mine. I need to start over.”
Footsteps approach.
The hallway door opens, and Norah comes back into the room, holding Maisie’s hand. Maisie is smiling.
Actually smiling.
It hits me in the chest like a punch.
I have no idea what Norah said to her, but whatever it was, it worked. Maisie looks excited, cheeks pink, jacket zipped up.
She has a beanie covering her ears, and I can spot two braids peeking from beneath it.
I can’t believe Norah took the time to do that.
“Hey, Rufus,” Amber says. The dog walks over to her and happily enjoys a few scratches behind the ears.
Fucking traitor.
“You look so cute,” Ryker tells Maisie.
My niece smiles. “Thank you.”
“Ready?” Amber says, her voice filled with false cheer.
I feel bile rise up my throat.
“Yes, Mommy.” Then she walks to me and hands me Frida. “Here you go, Uncle Jude. I’ll tell Santa to get me a new one so you can keep her.”
I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.
I blink hard and force the anger out of my tone. “How about you keep Frida, and then you can give her to me when you come back?”
“Okay.” She nods enthusiastically. I tug gently at one of her braids, feeling all the fight leave my body.
I want her to stay, but I don’t want to risk a bigger scene. I don’t want the last memory she has of this house, of this visit, to be of me yelling at her mother.
After one quick smile, she turns and walks straight to Norah and wraps her arms around her waist. “I’ll see you soon,” she says happily.
Norah swallows hard and hugs her back. “Soon,” she promises.
Amber watches, jaw tight. Ryker walks into Maisie’s room and brings out her packed bag and a few of Rufus’s toys in another bag.
“She’s not taking the dog,” I say through gritted teeth.
“My dog. My daughter. I think Maisie and Rufus are rather attached. And I already told you that Stella is pet-friendly, so why the hell not?” She takes the bags from Ryker.
“Don’t do this,” I tell her.
She ignores me. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”
Maisie hugs Norah one more time, then turns and waves at us. “Bye, Uncle Jude. Bye, Ryker. Bye, Norah.”
My throat closes. “Bye, peanut.”
Ryker looks like he might explode.
As they walk toward the door, every instinct in me screams to stop this. To call someone. To do something. To fight.
But I don’t.
Because no matter how wrong this feels, she’s still Maisie’s mother.
The door shuts behind them, and the sound of the truck starting up feels final and brutal.
Ryker swears under his breath. “We should call someone. CPS. A lawyer. PetCo. Something.”
I stare at the door, heart pounding. “I know.”
“I know she has struggles,” Ryker says. “And right now things are bad, but this is so fucked up. This is all so fucked up.”
“I know,” I repeat, hating how small it sounds.
“I want to knock Luke’s teeth in,” Ryker mutters.
I nod, anger boiling under my skin as I picture the truck pulling away, my niece inside it, and nothing I can do to stop it.
“I think I should go,” Norah says softly. “So you guys can handle this privately.”
I turn toward her instinctively, reaching out before I even think about it. My hand closes around her wrist, and I pull her back in—not hard, just enough to stop her from slipping away.
“Wait,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “Come here.”
She hesitates for half a second, then steps into me. I wrap my arms around her, and she melts against my chest like she’s done it a hundred times before, like her body remembers something mine does too.
My chin rests against the top of her head, and I breathe her in, steadying myself with the simple fact that she’s here.
Ryker steps in without a word, one big hand pressing into the middle of my back, the other coming around to pull us both closer.
It’s clumsy and crowded and exactly what I need. His presence is solid and dependable, the way it has always been.
“You wanna skip work today?” Ryker asks quietly. “I can cover. Chase can handle the finishing of the demolitions. I can handle the mayor.”
I shake my head against Norah’s hair. “No. I’ll be fine.”
It’s a lie, but it’s the kind I’m used to telling. The kind that lets the day keep moving.
Ryker doesn’t argue. He just squeezes my shoulder once, hard, like he’s packing all his reassurance into that single touch.
Norah pulls back slightly and looks up at me, her hand sliding into mine. Her fingers are warm, her skin so fucking soft.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.