Chapter 16
sixteen
GREER
While my mind is still muddled with sleep, I curl my body searching for the comfort of masculine arms. I only find an intrusive coolness on the other side of the bed. A pang of longing rips through me, unwelcome. Jude’s gone.
I said to keep it casual. Guess I got it.
I don’t know why I’m feeling so vulnerable, but then again, nothing could have prepared me for how intimate an experience it is to have sex without any sort of barrier between us.
I was drowning in new sensations...the pulse of his release, the warmth, the closeness of our bodies.
It’s left the shadow of a bigger bond deep in my soul, like I know him on a different level or something.
I’m defenseless against him, the threat of heartbreak haunting my mind.
With no substance behind the connection, it can only be artifice.
Like a loser, I check my phone for a message from Jude. Nada.
Still undressed, I jump into the shower. Jude’s scent lingers on my skin, sending a fresh pang to my heart.
I’m ridiculous.
I hate wishing he were here. It’s simply my endocrine system coming down from the endorphins, a crash after the high. Basic human biology, right?
Skipping my normal body wash, I reach for the luxurious scented
oil I save for special occasions. I feel like an addict tossing out their stash, ridding themselves of what they want most. Is it wrong of me to hope the lasting aroma of lemon and herbs helps me forget?
It all proves fruitless when I notice tiny red marks peppered across my breasts. He’s everywhere. I pass the body oil over them, as if it can erase the erotic dream that created them.
Why do I bother trying to eliminate any memory of him? It’s impossible to do when an ache between my legs reminds me of Jude with every move I make.
I shouldn’t feel this attached to a man I’ve known for less than a week.
The word “fling” exists for a reason. It burns hot and heavy at an unsustainable rate until real life kicks in and things fizzle out. I can’t bear for that to be our ending.
After padding into the kitchen naked, I go to lock the doors, only to find them locked from the outside. He must have helped himself to a key to make sure I wasn’t left alone with an unlocked door.
I go to check for the spare key, and I find a note.
Babe-
Something urgent came up and I had to leave earlier than I’d planned. I took Hank outside for a walk.
You look beautiful sleeping in bed.
Jude.
My pump supplies are resting next to it. He actually took the time to find them for me and walk the dog. My heart goes all achy again. Picking up my phone, I can’t stop myself from sending a quick text to say thank you. It’s only polite, right?
As soon as I press send, my stomach plummets. What am I doing? He didn’t leave here even an hour ago, and I’m already contacting him. Clingy much?
The phone alerts me to a text back from Jude.
Jude
Taking care of the things that are stressing you out is part of my job.
Greer
Well, it’s appreciated. Thank you.
The phone rings before I lay it on the counter. Jude’s gruff voice answering for me. “That’s appreciated, thank you?” he quotes back sarcastically.
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask.
“Babe, I ain’t some random man on the street that held the door open for you. You feel grateful for something I did, you hit me with a ‘thank you, baby,’ or ‘honey,’ or whatever silly nickname you want to call me.”
“Bossy much?” I chuckle.
His own laugh is a dark promise, “Oh, Baby Doll, just wait for me to show you bossy.”
Aerosmith fills my ears as my feet hit the pavement on the running track in the park, my hands on Hank’s stroller.
Sweat drips down my face, doing little to cool off my overheated body.
Hank sits on his throne with a “taking care of business” expression.
As if he’s doing anything to protect me by rudely barking at the other joggers as we pass.
Halting at the entrance of the park, I take a long sip of my water and ask, “Ready to call it quits, buddy?”
I needed the run to clear my mind. I keep thinking about the conversation with Jude before he left. Away from the cloud of hormones and charm, I have time to process everything.
Don’t tell anybody where I’m going.
Don’t repeat what you hear.
Those aren’t the words of a man with nothing to hide. He’s asking me to keep secrets, while also withholding parts of his life from me.
It doesn’t feel dirty or underhanded. It feels like a man who is safeguarding what’s important to him. What worries me is the secrecy I’ll have to maintain. If I continue down this path with Jude, I’ll have to keep a part of myself closed off from my family.
With my parents, further boundaries are needed. It’s part of the reason I moved here. I worry about Allie. What if this forces a wall between us?
But I’ll get Jude. Who doesn’t want a man who fucks you senseless, holds you until you go to sleep, then walks your dog on his way out the door?
It’s his insistence that he be the one to do certain things that is making me re-evaluate our argument from yesterday.
Yes, his behavior is fanatical, but in the end, he just wants to be the person who’s there for me.
It makes my heart ache. Helping someone else move is a favor, not something you insist on doing.
As if by kismet, a man is leaning against a motorcycle by the park’s entryway wearing a Bayou Dogs cut. As I walk by, he throws a leg over his Harley and nods in my direction. As I look back at him, I notice he’s a prospect as well.
Lifting my phone out of the pocket of Hank’s doggie stroller, I finally check the text messages I’ve been ignoring while on my run.
Jude
Where are you, Baby Doll?
I have a surprise waiting for you. They say your car is there. Are you okay?
Getting worried that you’re low and can’t get to the door.
I was certain it was Mom. She doesn’t call every day, but if she does and I don’t answer, she blows up my phone until I pick up, worried that I’ve passed out from my diabetes somewhere.
Like I’ll be able to answer if I’m unconscious.
Yes, it takes two seconds to text Mom back, and she’s worried, but it’s overkill with her.
I know it’s an act of love, and I get her worry, but I always check in.
Since middle school, there’s only been one occasion that someone’s had to step in and help during low blood sugars.
I have loving parents, and I’m very grateful for that, but I need some breathing room.
As worried as I am about the club’s secrets coming between my family and me, I can’t help but feel I’ve started to draw a line with them myself, one that should have been set long ago.
When our family got help a while back, Mom was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder stemming from my initial diagnosis.
Personally, I think my constant fluctuations in blood sugar have taken a toll on her body, mind, and soul.
As healthy as I try to be, as hard as I fight to manage my glucose, shit happens.
I dust myself off and move on, but Mom’s struggling.
She was told, flat out, by the therapist that she was smothering me and that I need to make my own decisions, even if Mom thinks they’re mistakes.
I’m surprised it’s Jude who’s been texting. Mom must be working a lot. Something’s distracting her.
Greer
Sorry, I was jogging across the street with Hank. I thought you were my mother. She’s a little overzealous when she tries to get in touch with me.
Jude
I have a surprise waiting for you at the coffee shop. I’d have let you know beforehand, but you said you were going to be home all day.
Greer
I’m on the way.
I’m dripping with sweat, bare faced, and my hair is a hot mess.
This is not the way I want to be seen by anybody.
There’s nothing I can do about it at this point.
Knowing Fern allows small dogs in the shop, I close the distance between the sidewalk and the storefront.
I hold the door open with my foot to push the stroller through.
I recognize the president’s old lady, Darcy standing near the cash register, wearing a megawatt smile. Her sister, Delia, is behind the counter playing with a baby.
“I told you she was just across the street,” Delia says.
“Like you can’t go everywhere in town on foot,” Darcy argues.
“Jude said someone was waiting for me with a surprise?” I ask.
“That would be us,” Darcy beams, turning her attention to me. Her forehead furrowed with though, she cocks her head and asks, “Have we met before?” with a distracted tone in her voice, like she can’t place where she’s seen me before.
Remembering the subsequent argument between the engaged couple, I begrudgingly admit, “I delivered the wedding cake samples to White Dog.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she says with an eye roll. “That's how I found out my wedding date.”
Yeah, I’m not touching that one with a ten foot pole.
From a table, two women flock over with fresh paper cups of coffee.
A sweet looking blonde introduces herself as Sutton, and a woman with dark curly hair is Meadow.
“Band-Aid sent this,” Meadow informs me, holding out a note.
I move Hank out of the walkway, then accept the piece of lined yellow paper.
His handwriting is the neat block lettering of a military man.
Baby Doll,
Something to make your first few days of work easier. Put your feet up when you get home, because I’m throwing them over my shoulders when I get back.
Jude.
Holy hotness, this man never fails to serve. My face feels warm as I clear my throat.
“We get it. That man of yours is a snack and a half,” Sutton remarks.
“Do you know him from the club?” I ask. Of course, they do. They refer to him by his road name.
“My dad is one of the brothers, Yogi.”
I don’t recall Jude mentioning any of them. Are they close?
“It’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the week,” Sutton explains.