Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
When I did get up to clean, he requested I leave the shirt on the ground. He wanted to feel me all night long, any easy request to allow. I move to the bathroom to rifle through the pile of clothes I have stacked on the dresser. I’ve been living out of a bag, going back from my place to Jude’s, and I’m for sure going to have to make a stop at my place as well as at the store to get a few things for Rory today.
I make quick work of pulling on some clothes, then hurry through my bathroom business before quietly walking the same path Jude did moments ago. The house is still dark for the most part. Sunlight is barely lifting from the horizon, and I’m really freaking glad that Jude leaves a small lamp illuminated on the other end of the house. My feet stop at the room Rory’s in. The door is open, and she’s sound asleep. The pills I left on the nightstand are gone, as well as half the bottle of water. Rory must have woken up at some point. My heart aches for her. She’s so young, been through way too much for a girl her age, and who knows how long they’ve had to live like this.
Once I’m assured Rory won’t be waking up anytime soon, I continue my path to where I heard Jude exit the back of the house. The smell of coffee hits my senses, and I realize that I must have taken longer to get to him than I thought. I’m at a war with myself—stop to make a cup or go right to Jude.
My question is answered when I see two mugs sitting next to the pot. It must not have finished percolating by the time he needed to have his morning smoke. I go through the process of pouring two cups, doctoring Jude’s up with a heavy spoonful of sugar while forgoing sugar in mine but using a heaping amount of hazelnut creamer, then walk out to my man with both mugs steaming hot.
“Thanks,” I say when the door opens. Jude probably heard me clanking around inside and realized the conundrum I’d put myself in of having to make two trips.
“Didn’t mean to wake you up, Foxy.” He nods, dropping a kiss to my lips, and while it’s not long or deep, it still has the power to make my toes curl.
“You didn’t.” Jude takes a drag of his cigarette and cocks his head to the side, attempting to flesh out my fib. I hold his gaze until he finally must think better of digging deeper over something as silly as him waking me up. I take the first sip of my coffee, savoring the taste. Jude does the same, and we move to the outdoor couch he has set up beneath the covered part of the patio.
“I figure now is as good as time as any to talk to you. Let you make your decision and go from there before things get messy, or messier.” His voice is rugged with a raw edge to it. I stay quiet, allowing him the time to get his thoughts together. “Are you okay with us having this talk?” he asks.
“Jude, I’m here for you whenever and whatever. I’m not going anywhere.” His need to protect the people he cares about could also mean he’d potentially push me away, and I’m not having any of that.”
“Here goes nothing.” He takes another inhale of his cigarette and then a sip of his coffee before setting both down on the glass tabletop, the mug on a fabric coaster and the cigarette in an ashtray. “Fuck, where do I start? Probably the day my mom took off and Dad decided he’d take it out on me.” He takes a deep breath. “At the age of eight. It didn’t matter what I did, if I looked at him, if I questioned him, if I wasn’t at home when he made a sudden appearance, I’d meet the end of his belt. That’s how it started, lashes on the backs of my legs and back, and he didn’t give a single fuck where the buckle landed, either. I can still hear the hiss of the air at times. Part of the reason I’ve woken up a few times is because of a memory. This morning wasn’t much different, but instead of it being me being the one beaten, it was Rory. Shit tore me the fuck up.” My hand goes to his thigh to hold a piece of him. His gaze has drifted off, looking at one spot in particular. What that spot is, I have no fucking idea.
“Tysen’s parents, the guys, and even their parents tried to intervene. That made it worse. Dad just got more strategic, making sure the bruises wouldn’t be visible since he slipped before. This went on for a while. Then one day, I had a growth spurt, became as big as him, and shit came to a screeching halt. I fought back, got licks of my own in, though he still got in more on me. The next morning, I came to, dear old dad was gone, and I was worse for the wear. He never came back. I moved in with Tys, tried to move on, get back what I could of my youth.” Jude reaches for the cigarette, taking a long and healthy drag before exhaling only to finish that one off, and that’s when I notice the slight tremor in his hand.