Page 81

Heisbetter than Sean.

“Tell me a story,” I say after I swallow down another bite. “It doesn’t have to be sad. It can be anything.”

He ponders my words for a moment before clearing his throat. “I used to play football. Coach thought I was good enough to go pro.”

“You certainly have the body for it,” I tease, pinching his thick thigh. “I bet you were smokin’ hot in the uniform.”

“I guess. Looking back, I think that’s when I started noticing guys too.” He feeds me more soup and continues. “In the showers, I’d compare dicks. I didn’t think much of it, but when you and me started…” He trails off and bores his stare into me. “When you and I started our thing, well, I was able to see maybe I haven’t been as straight as I always thought.”

We have a thing.

Ourthing.

I don’t know why that makes my heart sing, but it does.

It feels private and precious.

“Did you ever try anything or were you just curious?” I ask, reaching for the tea glass.

He hands it to me and I gulp down the sweet liquid.

“Nah. It didn’t even register. Plus, I was with Serra and she was more than I could handle.”

I can’t believe I’m jealous of some girl he used to sleep with in high school a million years ago. But I am jealous that she got to have sex with this beautiful man.

“Though, Mom did ask me a day or two before she died if I was gay. Even asked me if I had a boyfriend.” He chuckles, a sound that’s gritty and rough but lovely nonetheless. “I never knew how she even came to this conclusion. It’s not like she didn’t see me with Serra all the time and she certainly wasn’t there to witness how my eyes strayed in the locker room showers.”

“Moms have a sixth sense about things,” I say sadly, feeling the familiar pang of losing my own mother.

He goes silent for a few moments, letting me finish up the soup. Then he moves on to the apple pie. I thought maybe I’d feel silly to have him feed me, but I actually like it. This all feels intimate and sweet. It’s a new side of Jude that I really like.

“She was a terrible cook.” Jude snorts and shakes his head. “Probably the real reason Dad bailed on her. Jamie’s a great cook.”

We both know the affair was a lot more complicated than food.

“But she could bake well. I never understood how someone could burn chicken but make the best apple pie I’d ever tasted.” He steals a bite of my pie for himself, clearly lost in the memory of his mother. “I’ll never be able to truly thank Violet enough for giving me a sweet piece of my mother each day.”

My heart cracks open at his words.

This pie-loving beast of a man is nothing but a cinnamon roll under all that scary exterior.

“Violet is a great woman. I can see why you adore her.” I reach over and touch his arm. “You say you could never thank her enough, but have you tried telling her what you just told me? I bet it would mean the world to hear it.”

“I will.” He’s still for several seconds and then continues. “Every year on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I bring a slice of apple pie to Mom’s grave. I’m sure the squirrels and rabbits and birds just love me. The plate is always cleared when I go back to retrieve it.” He bows his head. “Sometimes I pretend she’s the one who ate it.”

Jude was a momma’s boy through and through. When she died, she took his heart with her. I’m thankful he’s opening up to me. Perhaps his heart is trying to grow again. I’ll make sure I take care of it for him.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say softly. “I know opening up isn’t easy for you. I just want you to know it means a lot to me.”

“Thank you for staying.” He reaches over to tug at my bottom lip. “Now let’s get you dressed so we can go listen to some music.”

I keep nodding off despite being a captive in Jude’s intense stare. He promised a relaxing day and he’s made sure it was just that for me. First the bath and a late lunch, then we spent hours talking and listening to his extensive record collection, and we even ate dinner upstairs.

The man is great at foot massages too.

He’s spoiling me with attention and adoration. It almost makes me feel guilty. As though I don’t deserve such sweetness. But then I remind myself that’s just Dad and Sean picking at me, not the truth.

The truth is, I do deserve to be doted on.