“Do you want one?” I blurt out, immediately horrified at my response and then more horrified by the implication of his question. “No. No! Like I said, I saw you going into the bar and well, and I don’t know why I stopped last week, but it was raining and you just looked cold so I stopped—”
“Faith! I’m kidding.” He smiles to confirm this. “I definitely don’t want a restraining order. I might like it if you stalked me.”
“I’m not stalking you!” I have achieved maximum embarrassment.
“Relax,” he advises me, but he can’t keep the laughter out of his voice. “I’m going to stop teasing you now.”
“Sorry.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t have much experience with teasing.”
“No big brother? Sister?”
“Not really.” My mouth goes dry. It’s mostly the truth, but the less complicated version. “I can’t believe this happened.”
Time to switch the topic away from me. Jude takes my cue, glancing back to the room where we left her sleeping.
“Maybe I should have checked for bottles or drugs,” he muses. “I probably should have stayed. It just didn’t feel right. I don’t want to get her in more trouble with her husband.”
“That sounds like a chivalry dilemma: protect her virtue or ensure her safety,” I say, but his dark knight routine impresses me more than I like to admit.
A cocky grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, but he sidesteps my characterization. “How well do you know her?”
“Anne and I never really existed in the same sphere. Our worlds overlapped at NA. I thought she had it together, but it sounds like she screwed up pretty badly.” I don’t mean it as a slight. A long time ago I decided to call a spade a spade. It never helps to pretend you have a different card than the one in your hand.
“Do you actively try to find the worst in people? That’s fucked up, Faith.” He spits my name at me, turning such a personal possession into an insult.
I plant my hands on my hips and refuse to budge. “You’re right. I don’t see the good in people. I don’t believe that people are basically kind.”
“Why?”
The question nearly knocks me off my feet. “Why do you care?”
“Because I do. You aren’t as cold as you want people to believe. You’re cautious, but you care.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” I will it to be true. The drizzle mists my face. Tiny droplets collect on my skin and lashes, slowly merging into fat drops that roll down my cheeks.
He steps forward and there’s nowhere to go but the dark, rain-slick street. Instead I stand my ground even as he moves close enough that his chest brushes across my breasts. I feel the contact through my sweater, through my bra, through my very skin as it awakens sensations I’d erased from my memories.
“I know that you picked up a stranger, who was too stupid to wear a jacket, and drove him home. I know that you’ll throw on an apron and take orders even though you’re clumsy. And I know that boy of yours thinks you hung the moon, and you can’t fool kids.” His words dance across my face, and his warm body so near mine that I can feel him has nothing to do with the wet heat between my legs.
“Kids don’t know better,” I whisper. “Someday when Max learns the mistakes I’ve made, he won’t think that highly of me. When he learns the truth, he’ll see me as I really am.”
“Kids see better than anyone. They haven’t learned to lie to themselves. It’s a gift and a curse. Believe me, I loved my father but I knew he was a monster.”
He doesn’t have to say more. I don’t need him to share those stories. He carries his memories like scars and now that I’ve truly seen him, I can’t ignore the truth. It’s in his eyes—the part of him that he can’t keep guarded. In the dark, they are midnight blue and distant, trapped in another place and time. But I want him here with me—challenging me, scaring me, thrilling me—and I don’t think. I just act. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I tilt my head toward his face and the storm overhead. I offer him my lips and with them a choice: to stay trapped in the past or to find his way to me.
I wait an eternity, and when his mouth finally finds mine, I know my life will never be the same. Jude moves tentatively until I open to him and then he takes—my tongue, my body. His strong arms coil around me, erasing the last space between us. His embrace is possessive, but I don’t try to break away. Rather I melt into his protection, even as conflicting emotions swirl inside me. Then my back is against the Jeep. Rain soaks through my thin shirt and I don’t care. Because Jude is kissing me and what’s a little water, when you’re already drowning. His hands clutch my hips as he breaks away.
“How do I hold onto you?” he asks gruffly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.” He presses his forehead to mine, and I want more. More contact. More time. More of him. “One day you are going to find all the joy you’re capable of, and then you’re going to fly, Sunshine.”