“Oh, yeah.”
“You don’t wanna go?” He frowns.
“No, it’s not that, I just don’t know these people. I don’t want them to make assumptions about me, and I don’t know what I would even wear.”
“Anything you wear is gonna look great on you. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
I blush and shoo him off the topic, knowing he is just trying to flatter me. I have never been called beautiful before and could not imagine it would start suddenly at nineteen. No, that is not possible. I had seen beautiful women, and I wasn’t one of them.
On the ride home, I’m quiet. I feel excited and sad at the same time because the family that he seemed to care so much about, the one that he learned how to future, build forts with, and share laughter is what is going to be surrounding me. It is the family I had always dreamed of, but they have no idea the secret I am hiding.
They have no idea how I can crash all this down around their ears. I doubt Lex even wants a family, or he would have started one by now, especially as the oldest. If all his brothers were having babies, and he wasn’t, then there had to be a good reason for that. I did not want to bring a damper on a family so beautiful. Besides, it was going to hurt to see that much happiness. That much, I know.
15
Lex
The next few days are easy and uneventful. I convince Jude that she still needs to stay with me for safety reasons, and luckily, she doesn’t resist like she usually does, though she continues to ask when she can go back to her dorm. I wonder if she needs alone time and isn’t getting it, but I can’t let her out of my sight just yet. I do not know for sure what’s up with Roman, and I don’t want to risk putting her in his crosshairs or worse–his goons.
I also want to prevent her from running into her mom again.
“Hey, you hungry?” I look over at her, studying at the kitchen table.
She perks up, her blue eyes full of life. “Yes. Is there any leftover spaghetti?”
“Sure is. I can heat it up for you. Come on, Chef Lex is going to fix you up.”
“Chef Lex? It sounds like a bad sugar cereal.” She snorts, and I laugh back at her. “Also, not to burst your bubble, but I think you would need a lot of schooling to be called a chef, based on your current culinary skills.” She nods toward the stove.
I stagger backward, hand over my heart. “You wound me.”
A few minutes later, the food is done, and the kitchen smells like an Italian restaurant. I sprinkle some parmesan over her food and watch as she wolfs down the pasta in front of her as she piles bite after bite in her mouth as quickly as she can.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “My culinary skills can’t be that bad, not the way you’ve been eating.” She always seems to be hungry, though strangely, she has stopped eating anything before noon, claiming she doesn’t really care for breakfast.
Mimicking my expression, she raises an eyebrow back at me. “Did you just call me fat?”
“What? No! I just–”
Jude tips her head back and bursts out laughing. “That was a joke. A good one, I might add. You should have seen your face.” She continues laughing. A sound that never gets old to my ears.
Sitting across from her, I eat, my eyes dancing as I try to swallow bigger bites than her without laughing. She makes me feel alive, happy, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve had girlfriends, but none have brought out in me what she brings out.
Watching her, I don’t know if she did it on purpose, but she got some spaghetti sauce on her face. She looks ridiculous. When I laugh and point it out, she wipes it on her sleeve like an exaggerated barbarian, which makes me laugh more.
After a moment, I become serious. “Jude?”
She looks up at me, a bit of terror on her face, which makes my heart catch. What scared her now? Is she going to bolt? Is she worried I want something from her? Is she afraid I am going to say something about her mother that would make her upset? I don’t want her to be afraid to be vulnerable with me. I don’t want to worry every time we start to feel comfortable around each other.
“Are you needing more space than what you have here?”
She looks away for a moment before looking back, then she shrugs.
“I miss my freedom.”
Ouch.
“You do know I’m not holding you here against your will, don’t you?”
She shrugs again and looks down at her plate. “But aren’t you? Kind of?”
“I’m just worried–about your safety, and that your mom will show up again.”
She flinches, then says, “I would rather stay anywhere forever than see her again.”
I watch her face and see her coil with anger, resentment, and loss. It seems deep. Old. As if whatever happened had been going on a very long time. I cannot imagine parents that would cause that kind of discord.
“Jude, were your parents the ones who hurt you?” I don’t want to push her, but I want to understand.
She nods but turns, shoving her plate away, and picking up her pencil to go back to her studies with her back to me. My fingers itch to touch her, comfort her, but something tells me to let her go, even though I don’t want to.
Inside, a flash of rage washes over me. I want to hurt those motherfuckers. I walk out of the room, afraid of what I will say or do.
I stay out of her way for another hour, and then it’s time for me to go into the gym. Walking into the kitchen, I find her sitting in the same spot as when I left her.
“Hey, I have a class to teach at the gym. You want to stay here and study while I’m gone? Or would you rather go with me?” I’d love for her to come with me, but I also want to give her some space, plus, I know there’s no safer place for her than here.
“I’ll stay here if that’s okay? Do you want me to make dinner while you’re gone?”
I nod and smile. Fuck, that just made my dick hard. Just the thought of her being here when I get back, dinner ready, going to bed together afterward. I never want this to end. I want her to stay here with me forever.
“That’s perfect. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back, but it won’t be too late.”
“It’s okay, take your time. I’ll still be here, studying, most likely.” She smiles at me, and I feel that smile in my bones. I always want to see her smiling, happy, and content like she is right now. Saying goodbye, I head out the door with my gym bag in my hand.
On the drive, my thoughts drift away, and I wonder what type of abuse she endured beyond that horrible physical shit I saw. Emotional had to be there, too. Was there something worse? Something even darker? It doesn’t matter, no one deserves to have any of that from their parents, a friend, another fucking human. It doesn’t matter who they were to her, they shouldn’t have hurt her. Gripping the steering wheel, I feel completely defeated for a moment. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know how to earn her trust, and I get the sense that might never happen, but I’ll be damned if I fucking give up.
When I get to Iron Fist and walk in, I wave at Dex and head to the locker room. Dex is one of the other trainers, though my least favorite. He pushes people too hard. Screams and belittles them on the regular. I had enough of that shit in boot camp to last me a lifetime. I don’t want to have to listen to that. Some people like to sign up for that shit, but I will never know fucking why. Stupid. That’s not how you train people, at least not in my book.