“This past week. With you.” He licks his lips, mashes them together and inhales slowly. “I think I could be.”
The energy between us charges. I hold my breath. My hand still on his shoulder. His arm still around my waist. Our gazes connect and I can’t look away.
In his eyes I find hurt. Fresh and raw. But also, I see hope. Possibility. A vulnerability that promises everything I’ve ever desired.
“Rachel.” His voice is a gravely whisper.
I lean closer. My gaze drops to his lips. I want to take away his pain. Fix this. Fix him. I want to kiss him.
“Shit.” Jude groans out the word. One second he’s upright, the next his head drops and his body shifts. He falls off the barstool, onto his knees. He blinks up at me, his eyes still bright from tears. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Shit. My lust-filled thoughts evaporate and I spring into action.
I help him to his feet, and together we stumble down the hall. I get him in the bathroom just in time, and stand watch as he upchucks the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Better that than anywhere else. Besides, I’ll sleep better tonight knowing he doesn’t have half a bottle of whisky sitting in his system. As it is, he’ll be nursing one hell of a hangover. Once he pukes, washes up, and brushes his teeth, I help him into his room to undress. More difficult a task, and way less sexual than I always imagined, what with him being seconds from passing out. We’re working on borrowed time, because once he’s down I don’t think I’ll be able to move him.
“I’m really happy you’re here.” His head lolls, fighting sleep. The fresh mint of his toothpaste hits me in the face and I help keep him upright.
“Me too.” I shuffle him backward until he’s sitting on the bed, then tug his pants from where they still gather at his ankles.
He flops back onto the mattress, and I pull up the sheet to cover his body. I smooth back the locks of his hair. With his eyes shut and breathing softly, he looks perfectly fine. Not as if his heart’s been shredded to pieces. “Rest.”
His eyes flutter open, and he reaches out to grab my wrist. “Don’t leave me. Please.” It’s the please that does me in. I fall for him completely with that request, my soul open and tumbling toward his in reckless abandon. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.
“I won’t,” I whisper, laying down next to him. Holding my breath until his eyelids drop and he gives in to sleep. I won’t leave him. Not tonight. Not until he wants me to leave. “I promise.”
35
Jude
My mouth tastes like cotton, and my head throbs as I crack open my eyes. They burn, ache, and the soft light in the room is too much. I shift under the covers, and freeze when my arm touches another body. Her hair covers most of her face and her body curls into the shape of an S as her shoulders lift, then fall with the rhythm of her breaths. Sweet. Good. Perfect. Everything I don’t deserve, but want anyway.
Memories of last night assault me. My dad showing up. Drinking in the kitchen. Rachel holding me as I bawl. Fuck, she must think I’m pathetic. Embarrassment creeps into my conscience. I can’t face her. Not when my eyes still burn from crying. My pulse races and my skin feels too tight for my body. My body caged in this condo. A restless energy thrums in my veins and I know from experience, if I don’t let it out, I’ll lash out. Slipping from the bed without waking her, I head to the guest room, change into my swimsuit and grab the keys to my jeep. My board and wet suit are inside, ready to go. A morning in the fresh air and water is just what I need to bring myself back to life.
Still hungover, the waves provide the brutal punishment I need. Sometimes, out here, I wonder if anyone would care or notice if they swallowed me whole. Sure, my clients appreciate what I can do for them, but would anyone even miss me if I were gone? Maybe Chance, Aubrey, Tony, Lonzo, and Eddie would be a little sad. Walter would be lost, at least until he won over the heart of a new owner.
I’ve always been okay with being detached enough for an easy exit, never letting anyone get too close. But now. Damn. Rachel makes me wish for more. An existence of belonging. Of loving and being loved. But after last night, I’m not sure Rachel is interested in that with me. How can I blame her? As much as I’ve worked to overcome it, my past is a part of who I am. I come with baggage, and I won’t fault her for not wanting to take that on.
For the rest of this weekend, I will let her set the pace. Give her the freedom to leave if she’s ready. Man, I hope she’ll stay. That she’ll still want to be friends. I value her presence in my life, and even if I’m relegated to an eternity of the friend zone, I’ll find a way to be content.
On my walk back to the truck, I down a breakfast burrito from the food stand and I’m a new man. Ready to tackle another day. To take over the world. Or, at the very least, meet Rachel’s gaze without shame for last night.
I’m riding the elevator back to my condo when my phone buzzes.
Reminder: In 1 hour Tour Club
Fuck. I forgot the appointment. It’s the last thing I want to do, but duty calls and I need it done. I’d planned on inviting Rachel to join me, but now .
