Eliah cocked his head to the side and gave Jude what he always called his ‘professor look’. It used to annoy the hell out of him, but now—oddly—he found it a comfort. “I can’t really say for sure. We grew apart, and I regret not knowing the man you became a little bit better.”
That hit like a punch to the stomach, but he knew there was no hiding from the truth of his brother’s statement.
“Part of me wants to be sorry because this swept in and ruined the life you’d built for yourself,” Eliah continued. “Because even if you’d quit tomorrow, I don’t think you’d be here.”
Jude winced, because that was also another sharp, painful truth. “I suppose not.”
“I don’t want to be sorry though.” Eliah offered a grin, then sipped his tea before sitting it down with a soft clunk. “I’m not sorry I get to hop in the car and drive ten minutes to see you. And I’m not sorry that the only person who understands what it was like growing up the way we did is going through this with me.”
Jude let out a soft breath and felt relief lifting from his shoulders. “You’ve put it far better than I could.”
Eliah laughed quietly. “I suppose that’s the one thing I was always better at than you.” Resting his hands beside his mug, he leaned forward a little bit. “This life is for the brave—especially because we have to sit outside of it. They’ll make space for you just like they made for me, but there are pieces of their lives that we can’t ever be part of.”
Jude closed his eyes, then nodded, because he understood. “I know.”
“If you’re asking me—I’d say it’s worth it. But I say that as a person who loves Aaron more than I ever thought I could love another man.” At his words, Jude opened his eyes and stared at his brother. Eliah had never really been one for talking about his feelings. Neither of them had been, really. Jude had only been broken of the habit when he spent time with his congregation, showing empathy and shared experience. He felt warmth for his brother, and joy, because no one deserved love as much as Eliah did. “I don’t think I would have stayed if I wasn’t absolutely sure he felt the same way about me.”
Jude heard what Eliah wasn’t saying. “We talked a little—but not enough. I’ve been trying my damndest not to be a distraction.”
“You know he probably doesn’t mind,” Eliah said, and that made Jude smile because he knew that. Emilio had assured him of it.
“This isn’t how I pictured my future,” Jude said. He ran his finger around the rim of his mug, thinking about Emilio being carted off on a stretcher, waiting in that lobby to hear whether or not he was going to live. He thought about the ambush in the house—how Emilio had been knocked out and they’d been tied up. He remembered the smell of petrol as it soaked into Emilio’s clothes and the heat of the fire and the pain in the gashes Eliah left behind as he cut them free. He remembered the snap in his knee as he jumped from the window and the weight of Emilio in his arms as they dragged him to safety.
And he remembered their first kiss after all was said and done. It was almost like a concession—like the last string tying Jude to his old life had snapped.
His gaze moved to his arm, and he thought about the last time he’d prayed—really prayed. It had been so long since he’d wrapped those long leather bands around his arm, feeling the weight of the batim resting on his forehead. The connection to God was profound in those moments, even in the silence that rang after his prayers. His soul always felt good when it was over—it felt right.
And now he felt a hollow ache at how he’d neglected this one part of himself he’d never doubted.
“You don’t have to give up who you are to love him,” Eliah said.
Jude blinked away heat and pressure from his eyes, turning his gaze from his brother. Sometimes it was a bit much—the way Eliah knew what was inside him. But sometimes, he needed someone who wasn’t afraid to say those words aloud. “I didn’t mean to.”
Eliah reached for him, placing his hand over Jude’s wrist. His palm had permanent, rough callouses from his cane, and his grip was strong as he squeezed. “I don’t think you have, but I can tell that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Jude glanced up at his brother, a wry grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Coming from experience, are you?”
At that, Eliah laughed and pulled away, wrapping both hands around his mug. “Something like that. Aaron was reluctant to even consider the idea of falling in love—especially with me. And I’m still not quite finished dealing with the fact that when he and I went to bed together, he was expecting to die by the end of all this.” Eliah closed his eyes as he took a breath. “But I think I spent more time convincing myself there was something to hold on to than convincing him I was worth loving.”
Jude had a thousand words of argument for his brother—just like he always had when Eliah spent his youth thinking that his body made him unlovable. Jude had taken more time to understand that Eliah needed to go through that process—to re-discover who he was amidst his new limitations and his new reality—than the injured boy ever had. Jude had simply wanted to fast forward through all the difficult bits and reach to the other side where everything was fine and good and content.
It was his biggest weakness, he supposed, his lack of patience.
It was something he’d been praying over for too long, when he was on his own, and the silence in return battered against him like a raging storm. And now he was faced with this—a shake-up, a change he would have never predicted.
And with that, he realized, a want that was burning deep in his soul. A desire and a love that was worth fighting for. He just needed to give it time.
18
Things felt very…normal, Jude thought as they made their way out for dinner. Eliah was driving him and Maddie in Kicks’ truck, and Aaron was following behind with Gunner, and Logan at his tail. Dropping his guard terrified him, but even Aaron acted like there was nothing to be worried about, and Jude decided he’d rather take the man’s lead.
Fear was no way to live. Caution did not need to dictate their every move.
They headed to the club bar, which was close to opening, and Aaron had arranged a barbeque from one of the men he was considering hiring to run the kitchen. Logan had been offered the position, but in the stilted conversation they’d shared back at the house, Logan said he’d started up his own dance academy.
‘It’s small,’ he said, signing slow so Jude’s brain could play catch-up. ‘But I like it best.’
Jude loved the idea more for the passion he could see in Logan’s eyes than anything. It was obvious dancing was in his blood. It showed in his lean form and the graceful way he moved and how every twitch in his body seemed to contain a rhythm. Jude had never felt anything like that before—had never really been consumed by a need to do something—to be something—and it was yet another moment he felt shaken to his core.
He didn’t want to assume that sort of passion was for everyone, of course. He’d counseled more than one member of his congregation on the feeling of being listless or lost. “Not everyone follows their dreams, but not everyone needs to. People find happiness and contentment in many other ways.”