Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
He kisses my lips and then hugs me tight. I cling to him, sobbing like a baby. Tate straddles my lap to get closer, holding me as though he has the power to keep me held together.
And he does.
But things are shifting and changing already inside me. I’m releasing so much hatred for myself to make room for love. Love for Tate. Love for my protective mother. Love for my family.
I can’t continue to punish myself any longer.
I can’t if I plan to take care of Tate and the rest of my people.
An EMT crouches beside us. “Everything okay? Are you injured?”
Tate shakes his head. “We’re fine. Help the others.”
As soon as the EMT is gone, Tate leans his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry.”
The pain bleeds away as anger burns hot. “For what?”
“For Sean. It’s because of me that this is happening.”
I want to scoff and tell Tate to fuck off for taking the blame for something that was out of his control.
Wait…
Is that what I’ve been doing all these years? Taking the blame for something that was out of my control?
“This isn’t your fault,” I say to him, but needing to hear the words as well. “None of this is your fault.”
His smile is gentle and he nods. “Okay. You’re right.”
I kiss him deeply this time. He tastes like smoke and love and mine. The small moan of surprise that rasps out of him melts my heart.
I want to hear all his sounds.
I want to see him smile and laugh.
I want to touch every part of him, worshipping him with the gentleness he deserves.
“You kids okay?”
We break from our kiss to find Dad striding over to us. He kneels beside us, brows furled as he inspects us for bodily harm. Once he realizes we’re okay, he squeezes Tate’s shoulder and then kisses my forehead.
“Thank fuck you’re all right,” Dad says, voice tight. “When I saw the fire, I thought I’d lost you.”
He rises to his feet and then stalks away to meet Sloane, who’s speaking with some of the people we helped escape the fire.
I hug Tate to my chest, stroking my fingers up and down his back. “You think you can pencil me in for a session when we get home.”
Tate laughs, snuggling closer. “Yeah, big man, I think I can. Only if you promise pie, though.”
“Deal.” I inhale his smoky hair. “I’m done hiding, sweet boy. I think I’m ready for you to see me—all of me—especially the ugly. I just hope you’ll stick around after.”
He pulls back and threads his fingers into my hair. “I already see you, Jude. I’ve seen your heart and it’s beautiful. This face is a pleasant surprise. There’s not one single ugly thing about you inside or out.”
“He killed my mom.”
Tate is silent for a beat and then nods. “I am so sorry he did that to you.”
“I couldn’t save her…” I trail off, searching for that never-ending self-loathing that’s always crawling at my skin and finding nothing.
“You did your best, Jude. I’m proud of you for trying. You’re a hero to me.”
His words play out over and over in my head until I can almost imagine Mom saying them. Is that how she would have felt too? Proud of me for trying? Would she have seen me as a hero?
Yeah.
Yeah, I think she would have.
Tate
Six days later…
Cinnamon.
Gah.
My favorite Jude smell usually comes from his bed, where his scent lingers the strongest. This time, it’s coming from the air. Someone is baking at the crack of dawn and I’m forced to get out of bed early to follow my nose.
Of course my traitor cat is already gone.
I pull on one of Jude’s hoodies because I like how it swallows me and then grab my sweatpants from the floor to dress in before leaving the bedroom. Outside of the room, the heavenly aroma teases of something sweet and decadent for breakfast. I cannot wait. I continue to follow my nose all the way to the dining room.
Wyatt sits in his wheelchair, an amused grin on his wrinkly lips. “Food always lures you out of bed, huh, Tate?”
“Every time,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “If only the people in this house were normal and had cereal for breakfast, maybe a guy could get some sleep around here.” I squeeze his shoulder and he pats my hand. “How are you feeling, Wyatt?”
“I’ll feel better when I get my hands on one of those cinnamon rolls.”
“Let me see if I can scrounge you one up.”
I leave Wyatt to peek in the kitchen. Jude, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his hood covering his profile, is hard at work drizzling creamy icing all over a batch of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls.
These people are going to make me gain twenty pounds!
Violet, busy at the stove flipping bacon and scrambling eggs, winks at me when I enter. I walk over to her and give her a quick hug. It’s a thing now. If I forget, she gets onto me for breaking her heart. And I can’t have that on my watch.