Page 29

Jude

T wo days later, I woke up tangled in Cyclone’s sheets, the sound of the ocean drifting through the open window.

Sunlight warmed my skin, and I just lay there for a moment, smiling like some fool who couldn’t believe her luck.

Cyclone was in the kitchen when I padded in barefoot, wearing only one of his old T-shirts.

He wore jeans, boots, and a gray T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders.

The second I saw the bag on the floor by the door, my heart sank.

He caught the look and crossed to me, tugging me gently against his chest.

“Just a short job, sunshine,” he said against my hair. “Three days, tops.”

I curled my fingers into his shirt.

“I know. I'm just not used to... this. To missing someone.”

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his hands cradling my face.

“You have no idea how much I'm gonna miss you, too,” he said, voice rough.

“But I’ll be back before you know it.”

I nodded, even though my chest ached.

“I'll be fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “I'll find something to keep me busy.”

He grinned, brushing his thumb along my jaw.

“You better. Otherwise, you're gonna drive yourself crazy worrying about me.”

I laughed, smacking his chest lightly.

“You’re not that special.”

He kissed me, slow and deep and lingering, before grabbing his bag and heading for the door.

Right before he stepped out, he turned back, his smile soft and full of something. “I love you, Jude.”

Simple. Raw. No fear.

“I’ll be home soon.”

And then he was gone.

The house felt too quiet after he left.

Too empty.

The ache of missing him settled deep and sharp.

I cleaned the kitchen.

Did laundry.

Organized the closet.

And still... the minutes crawled.

By the next morning, I knew I couldn't just sit here and wait for him to return.

I needed a life.

I needed purpose.

I remembered the card I tucked into the back pocket of my jeans — the one his friend Owen had handed me at the bonfire, almost like a joke.

“Call me if you get bored,” he’d said with a wink.

“We always need smart people around here.”

I had taken it out and put it in the dresser door that I claimed as mine. I found it and glanced at it. Owen Security & Investigations.

Private Investigators.

Surveillance. Protection.

It wasn't just busy work.

It was meaningful.

It was a way to take everything I'd lived through — everything I'd survived — and use it for something good. Maybe I could help someone who needed me.

Before I could overthink it, I grabbed my phone and punched in the number.

It rang twice before someone answered.

“Owen here,” came a deep, amused voice.

I swallowed hard.

“Hey. It’s Jude. You said you might have some work for me?”

There was a pause — then a warm chuckle.

“I knew you would call.”

Another pause.

“Come in tomorrow morning. We’ll find a place for you.”

I grinned for the first time all day.

I was starting over, and a new job was next on my list. Thank the Lord I didn’t have to stay at home. I would go crazy if I stayed home all the time.

I was building something new.

And when Cyclone came home, I wanted him to see that I was starting my new life with him, and that meant having a new job.

I wanted him to know that the woman he loved wasn’t broken anymore.

She was just getting started.