And definitely not in English.
When Kicks cleared his throat, Jude didn’t react, and it was then he noticed the earbuds. If this were anyone else, he’d do what Logan taught him—he’d stomp on the floor or flicker the lights. But he didn’t want to startle Jude. The man was jumpy enough as it was, though he was doing his best to hide it. But it was obvious.
In the end, he realized there was no good option, so he moved into the kitchen with heavy steps, and Jude whirled around, pulling one of the earbuds out. “When did you get here?”
Kicks shrugged, tossing his keys and phone on the counter. “Like two seconds ago. Why? And should you be up doing that?” he asked, jabbing his finger at the man’s stance.
Rolling his eyes, Jude pulled the other earbud out, then reached for his phone and tapped the screen. “You mean exercising my leg? Trust me, my doctor will be thrilled that I got anything like physical therapy done today.”
Kicks winced when he realized dragging Jude here was probably fucking with his entire routine. “Do you like…need to go in somewhere, or…?”
“I’m alright.” His voice was flat, and Kicks had no idea if he was telling the truth or not, but it wasn’t his place to push him on the issue. “I thought you were going to be gone longer.”
Shrugging, he brushed past Jude and grabbed a beer from the fridge, cracking the top on the counter before sinking onto his little barstool. “Church didn’t go as long as usual, but that’s because we don’t got new information.”
At that, Jude’s mouth quirked into something like a smile. “It still kills me that you lot call it church.”
Kicks shrugged, feeling a little prickly over that. “Not much difference between what we do and what y’all do.”
He expected push-back, but instead, Jude looked at him with a considering stare. “That makes sense.”
“Does it?” Kicks asked, and Jude let out a small scoff.
“Contrary to your instant judgment of my character, I do understand that this life—and everything that comes with it—is important to you.” He shuffled over a few steps and grabbed two bowls out of the cupboard, setting them down next to the pot. Kicks was too far away and turned slightly on his blind side, so he couldn’t get a good look at what Jude was ladling, but the smell was rich and homey, and his stomach twisted with hunger.
He said nothing in response, not quite sure what to do with the guilty feeling in his gut. He was doing exactly what Jude accused him of. But he didn’t exactly have good experiences in his past with religious types like him. Never in his damn life did he think he’d be playing host to some religious leader, of all fuckin’ people.
And never in his life did he think it would be to one who had fucked him stupid on the road.
Licking his lips, he glanced down at the bowl Jude pushed across the counter and saw soup with dumplings floating in the broth. “Uh…”
“Matzo-ball soup,” Jude said. “My mum used to make it every time I was poorly.”
Kicks’ mouth twitched in a grin. Jude’s accent had sent waves of heat through him before, but right then, it was cute. It made him sound young and sweet—and he was neither. But he liked the idea that there were more sides to him that he hadn’t gotten to see just yet.
Picking up the spoon, he dug into the dumpling. The broth seared his mouth for a second, but after sucking in air, his tongue was coated with a sort of rich, salty flavor. He breathed in through his nose as he savored it, and he saw exactly why this was something Jude craved whenever shit hit the fan.
“If Eliah cooks like this, I see why Smokey keeps his ass around,” he muttered into his third bite.
Jude snorted. “I like to think he wants my brother’s company for more than just his cooking skills. And I can safely say that Eliah isn’t as good at this as I am.”
“Bet that irritates him,” Kicks said with a smile before shoveling more into his face.
Jude laughed, then grabbed his own bowl, though he bypassed the counter and took a seat at the table. Kicks nearly joined him, but instead he cradled the soup in his hands—ignoring the hot ceramic—and turned around to face him.
“Look, I wanted to say sorry for…”
“I hope you don’t think…”
Kicks rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You go.”
Jude’s cheeks flushed a little, and he shrugged, his gaze darting out the window. “I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful for the help. I know I put up more than a fuss about going with you, and to be an imposition on top of it…”
Kicks took another couple of bites before he answered, just to stop himself from saying something stupid like, ‘I want you here in my space,’ which he had no business thinking. “It’s my job to keep an eye on you,” Kicks said, and when he saw hurt flash through Jude’s eyes, he went on, “but I also kind of like you.”
Jude stared at him for a long moment. “You…kind of like me?”
“You’re less irritating than a lot of people I know,” he answered honestly, then reached over and set his bowl down. “And I think we’ve seen each other in some pretty fucking vulnerable positions.”
He didn’t just mean sex, but he saw when Jude processed that, and it made him half-hard almost instantly.
“I know you didn’t ask for this shit, but it’s not putting me out or whatever—to make sure you and Eliah both get out of this in one piece.”
Jude’s hand moved to his knee, rubbing over the brace, and Kicks wondered if he realized he was doing it. “It was terrifying, you know. Watching you lie there—wondering if you were going to wake up.” He swallowed thickly and glanced away. “When the fire…” He stopped with a heavy breath. “I keep thinking that I wouldn’t have been as strong as Eliah. I think he probably would have killed me.”
“From what I heard,” Kicks said, hopping off the stool and crossing over to sit next to him, “you literally gave your brother everything he needed to get us the fuck out of there.”
Jude’s lip twisted up in a grimace. “I distracted him with bullshit philosophy. I’ve always been good at talking.”
“You’re goddamn good at thinking on your feet.” Kicks paused and waited for Jude to look at him. “You saved my life.”
His jaw worked, like he wanted to argue, but after a beat, he just set his spoon in the bowl and sat back. “I keep wondering what the bloody hell is wrong with me that I don’t go home. I know why Eliah stayed. More than just falling in love with Aaron. He’s…we’ve never really been much alike. I was always so reckless and angry, but I was also so much more afraid than he ever was.” He glanced down at his knee. “This has been hell, and I’ve wanted to tell him so many times since I got hurt that I don’t know how he does it. But it seems so cruel to devalue his body and experience like that.”
Kicks nodded. He understood in more ways than one, but he rarely let himself think about what it was like—recovering from his attack. The pain that lingered, losing his eye, learning to cope without depth perception. “You don’t have to be like him to be worthy of peace or whatever it is you’re looking for. You know that, right?”