27. Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
EMMA EASTON
I can’t pretend that Jude shoving me like that didn’t just scare the hell out of me. It did. Snow is falling outside again in slow, lazy drifts. Floating between us and the darkening trees as Jude and I stand on the back porch.
The glass door behind us is shut, but not closed off. I can see Rafe and Micah’s dim silhouettes through it. They’re close enough to intervene if they need to.
Jude stands near the railing like he’s not entirely trusting his body. His hands are tucked into his black hoodie. His shoulders are tense, but in an exhausted way. His hair has fallen forward, dark strands hanging across his forehead and into his hazel eyes.
He looks so tired, and it hurts.
I step closer, and he notices immediately. His eyes lift to mine, and he steps back into the railing. “Hey,” I say softly.
His throat works when he swallows. “Hey.”
It comes out quiet. And all I can think of right now is that…this is how I’d approach a feral animal. One that knew it lashed out and was now scared of what someone might do to it.
I study him, and I feel that strange pull in my chest where relief and worry overlap until I can’t tell them apart anymore. “It’s okay, you know,” I say.
He huffs, but there’s no amusement in it. “Yeah.”
There’s a beat of silence between us where neither of us knows what to say.
Jude’s gaze flickers away for a second, out toward the trees. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly.
My heart hurts immediately. “Jude—”
“I almost—” His jaw flexes when he stops himself. When he starts again, it’s slower. “I almost lost it. Again.” His shoulders twitch when he says it.
“You didn’t lose it,” I say.
His eyes snap back to mine at that, skeptical. “I shoved you,” he says flatly.
“I know.”
A beat.
“I hurt you.” He nods toward my elbow, where I scraped it when I caught myself.
My throat constricts, but I don’t look away from him. “You stopped.”
His expression falters. “I don’t care.”
I take a slow breath as I watch snow catch in his hair. A few flakes cling to his thick lashes before melting into nothing.
“I don’t trust myself,” he says finally.
“I know.”
He looks away, like he’s ashamed of this conversation. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get better, Emma.”
I have to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. I want to cry. I try to speak, but my throat aches. So instead of saying anything, I reach for him, my hands hovering above his wrists, watching his reaction.
He doesn’t flinch, but he watches me. So I take his hands, and wince when I find his skin colder than I expect. His breath stutters just slightly, as if holding back a small sob, gaze dropping to where I’m holding him.
I gently tighten my grip, and he sniffs like he’s trying not to cry.
His gaze is locked on the ground between us.
“You don’t have to disappear to protect us,” I say softly.
“Please don’t ever recommend killing yourself again, Jude.
” My eyes fill with tears. “I wouldn’t survive if anything happened to you, okay? Please.”
His throat moves. “I’m not disappearing,” he says, but it doesn’t fully convince either of us. His voice is rough when he speaks again. “I’m still sleeping in the basement tonight.”
I nod immediately. “Okay,” I say. I don’t want to push him into anything that makes him uncomfortable. Everything is at his pace.
His brows draw together slightly. “Okay?”
“Yes,” I repeat. “Okay.”
He shifts on his weight, leaning against the snow-covered wooden railing. He doesn’t seem to care that the moisture is sinking into his sleeve.
“But come upstairs after dinner,” I add. “Come talk to me. Not about Alexei, or the plan. We don’t have to talk about anything that’s happened, okay? I just…want you with me for a while.”
His eyes search mine again, quieter now.
“Only if you’re comfortable with that,” I add.
“…Okay,” he says finally.
The first snowflake lands on the back of his hand, where I’m holding him, melting instantly.
***
Jude is quiet at dinner, even when people address him. His answers are short, and his gaze remains on his plate of salmon and roasted asparagus. He barely eats, seemingly withdrawing into himself after what happened earlier.
Adela doesn’t even make a joke about him barely touching her food, because she can tell he’s spiraling a little bit.
This is coming from the woman who nearly decapitated Micah for saying that her bread was too crunchy and was falling apart last week.
Now, she just glances at Jude with concern.
Rafe mentioning that he is a liability with his trigger words definitely hit him hard, but it’s true… unfortunately.
As I’m putting our dishes into the dishwasher, I turn to Heather. “Jude is coming upstairs for a while. But he’s still planning on sleeping in the basement.”
Her brows draw together. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be alone with him?”
I chew my lip, really thinking it over. “Yes. I know he won’t hurt me. He’s still in there, and I’m confident that he’s stable enough to be with me.” I pause. “Well, without the trigger words, anyway.”
She pulls me in for a hug, her embrace warm and smelling like laundry. “If you need us, our room is right next to yours. Shout or something. I love you.”
I squeeze her. “I love you, too, Heather.” And when we part, I find Jude’s gaze already on us.
***
“You don’t have to stay here for long,” I say as we enter the bedroom.
He nods, still withdrawn. He has his last dose of the day of Suboxone under his tongue, so I don’t expect him to talk much for a few minutes while it dissolves.
I walk over to the dresser, taking out my baggy sleep tee and shorts. I turn to him. “Want me to go get your sweatpants?”
He shakes his head, moving to sit on the bed.
“Okay.” I strip out of my clothes and step into my pajamas, his eyes silently tracking every moment.
And by the time I slide into bed beside him, he’s looking at my face.
“How are you doing?” I ask, covering myself with the comforter.
He hesitates, but finally tears his gaze away. “Better, when it comes to looking at you. I don’t feel that…anger I felt before.”
Hope flares in my chest. “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “I guess so.”
A few beats pass, and I wonder if asking him to come up was a mistake. “Do you just want to go to bed? It’s been a long day.”
That seems to set him more alert, his head turning sideways toward me, even if he’s looking at my hands in my lap. “No, it’s okay. I want to be with you. I want…” he trails off, wetting his lips. “I want to tell you everything that happened.”
“You don’t need to,” I say softly.
“I know.” He finally looks into my eyes again. “But I lied to you for so long. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to hide anything from you ever again.” He swallows. “Even if it hurts.”
My chest tightens a little at that. “Well, is there something you want to share with me?”
He doesn’t answer right away. But his eyes are softening in the way they do when you’re about to cry. “If I’m being honest with you, Emma, I don’t know how I’ll survive this.”
My stomach drops. “What do you mean, Jude? We got you out.”
“I know,” he whispers. “But I…I don’t know if I’ll be able to move on after what I’ve done. I’ve killed people who very likely didn’t deserve to die. I’ve been used as a fucking attack dog for so long that I feel…almost directionless right now. I don’t know how to live without being told how to.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
“I can see the life I was supposed to have,” he murmurs. “With you. I see it.”
My heart is cracking open. “What do you see if you let yourself?”
He sighs, staring straight ahead at the wall. “I see everything we once discussed, Em. I see you and I living in a house like my parent’s. You know, the kind you wanted.”
I smile, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.
“I see the band back together, playing at local bars and having fun again.” His eyes fill with unshed tears.
“I also see you at your studio, happy, and helping people, because you’re good at it.
You’re good at seeing people.” He sniffs.
“And I see a beautiful wedding ring on your finger. A unique one, that speaks of our journey apart and together again.”
I swallow down a sob as tears keep falling silently, dropping onto my lap.
And then he looks at me. “And I see you teaching our kid how to paint out their feelings. And me, showing them how to play out their dreams.”
I have to take a moment to ensure my voice will even be able to come out steady. “That is all still possible, you know.”
He huffs, a sound that’s between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know how, Em.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say quickly. “Just like we would have figured it out as two kids in love before.”
His lips twitch. “You really think you could love me after everything I’ve done?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
His gaze returns to the wall. “You haven’t even seen everything. You don’t know it, yet.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
My hands clench into fists in my lap. While it’s true that I’ll likely be horrified, broken, and sick at everything that he’s done, I know that he didn’t want that. He was forced to do it all.
“Maybe I should go to bed,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to be honest with you. About what I want, and what might not be possible. I’ve been broken over and over again, and I’m not sure that when I’m put together again, it will ever be…right.”
My heart squeezes. “You being alive is right. Please don’t forget that.
Jude, when you—” my voice fractures. “When you held that gun to your temple, I thought I was about to lose you. I had never been so scared in my life, aside from your overdose. Losing you is my worst fear. After everything, you can’t tell me that you don’t believe we were meant to find each other again?
You can’t still believe that we weren’t supposed to. ”