Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia #4) (6 page)

But if I didn’t hate Jude, what was I supposed to do with all this anger inside
of me?

Chapter
Six

Even though it was chilly, I sat outside on one of the many benches
that dotted the campus grounds eating a banana. I didn’t want to get caught out with Jude while I was hungry again. I might hurl another McFlurry at his head and that would be a real shame.

“You know,” the voice sounded right beside me, “I could make a really dirty joke right now about you and that banana, but I’d like to live to see tomorrow so I’ll keep quiet.”

I looked over at Jude, continuing to chew happily on my banana. I wouldn’t let him faze me. “Are you ready?” I asked.

He nodded. “I think the better question is are
you
ready?”

“I have to be,” I replied. I stood and slung my backpack over one shoulder as I followed Jude to his truck. If there was one thing I knew Jude loved, it was that truck. It was an older model Ford with a shiny blue paint job. No matter the weather, it always sparkled like it had just been washed. Maybe it had.

He opened the truck door for me and I climbed inside.

I didn’t thank him.

Rowan had made me feel crazy for hating Jude. I thought for sure after she read the letter she’d be on my side, but she still defended him. Then after my talk with Jude I felt unsure about the whole thing. I still didn’t like him, I probably never would, but the overwhelming burn of hate was mysteriously gone from me. Well, maybe not
gone
, but redirected…at the people I probably should’ve been angry at from the beginning.

“You look tired,” Jude commented, taking in the bruise like shadows under my eyes.

Jude may have been a womanizer, but he also noticed more than most guys. I’d hoped I’d be able to hide them, but no such luck. Even Rowan had asked about them. I’d given her a mumbled answer that made no sense, but with Jude I found myself saying, “That’ll happen when you’re up all night thinking about the last seven years of your life.”

“Tatum—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I really don’t need to hear whatever it is you think you have to say. You didn’t lose your brother. You didn’t have to find that note. You don’t have to live with this constant
pain.
” My breath stuttered and I looked away, hoping to get a better grip on my emotions. “Please, leave it alone.”

He sighed heavily, not at all pleased with my request. “For now,” he reluctantly agreed and I felt relieved to be let off the hook, even if it was only temporary.

“Is our bet still on?” He asked, filling the silence that loomed like a stormy cloud in the truck.

“Sure,” I shrugged. At least the bet would give me something to think about other than Graham and the fact that his suicide really wasn’t Jude’s fault and the people I should blame were the ones living in my house.

“Why don’t you ask me a question first?” He suggested, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

I leaned my head against the headrest, trying to think of a good question. So far our questions had been relatively useless and silly. I wanted to know something personal about him. So, I asked the question that had been bugging me the longest. “Why do you want to be a nurse?”

He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. I wasn’t sure if he was mad about the question or what. His eyes flicked my way for a moment and then back to the road. “I should have known you’d ask me that one eventually.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to answer it if you really don’t want to,” I said softly. I knew what it was like to be asked something that you didn’t want to talk about and it sucked. I might not have liked Jude but I was really working on at least tolerating him.

“You’re not the first person to ask me that question,” he whispered, squinting against the sun, “but you are the first one I’ve ever wanted to tell the truth.”

His
words caused my heart to stop momentarily. I didn’t know whether I was excited about knowing something about Jude that no one else knew or terrified. Probably terrified.

He looked at the clock on the dashboard and said, “I’m never late, so if I call the nursing home they’ll understand, but there’s something I need to show you to make you understand
why
.”

“Oookay,” I drew out the word. “You’re not kidnapping me, are you?”

“No,” he laughed. “You’d only find a way to escape if I tried that.”

“True,” I agreed.

Jude pulled out his cellphone and called the nursing home. I was surprised by how easily they let him off the hook.

“They love me,” he shrugged when I stared at him incredulously. “They gave me the whole evening off. I’ll just put in some extra time for a few days to make up for it.”

“Man,” I shook my head, stifling a laugh, “you are quite the charmer.”

He glanced at me with a wide smile, displaying his perfect white teeth. “Except my charms don’t work on this one girl that I really,
really
like. It kinda sucks.”

“I’m sure you’re terribly sad,” I played along, looking out the window. “I bet you cry yourself to sleep every night.”

“I do. I use my teddy bear to mop up my tears and I also suck on my thumb,” he rambled, not missing a beat.

“Now
that
,” I couldn’t help laughing, “is something I’d love to see.”

“You can come over anytime,” he grinned. “There’s plenty of room in my bed for an extra snuggle buddy.
But you already knew that,” he winked, laughing under his breath.

I had no comeback for that one and he knew it.

We grew quiet as he turned off the highway and drove along. The town soon disappeared, replaced by the country and a dirt road. A wooden fence kept cattle from crossing into the road and trees were everywhere, blanketing the sky around us.

“Where are we going?” I asked, unable to handle the suspense a moment longer.

“To answer your question.”

“I really hate show and tell,” I muttered under my breath.
“You better not take me to a whorehouse or something.”

He let out a belly laugh and smiled crookedly
. “You’re funny.”

“I was being serious,” I replied.

“I know you were,” he grinned at me, “that’s why it was funny.”

The dirt road narrowed into a driveway and I stared around in awe at all the animals.
There were goats, cows, sheep, llamas, and the most beautiful horses I’d ever seen. “Wow,” I breathed, unable to keep myself from uttering the word.

“I know, right,” Jude agreed. “It’s beautiful here. My favorite place in the world.” He whispered the last part.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I admitted, still in awe of the spectacular property.

“You’ve never been on a farm?” He asked, his tone of voice incredulous. “Isn’t that like a prerequisite to live here?”

“My parent’s are pretty citified,” I mumbled. “My mom would’ve complained that she was getting her shoes dirty and my dad wouldn’t have set foot at a place like this. Did you grow up here?” I realized immediately that maybe I shouldn’t have asked the question since our deal was one question a day, but I couldn’t help myself.

He answered anyway, despite my slipup in our plan. “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my nose crinkling in confusion.

He shrugged and I let it drop. I didn’t want him prying into my life, so I wouldn’t do the same to him.

The trees pulled away, hanging in a way that they almost framed the two-story white house. A porch wrapped around the front and sides. I could tell the home was old, and in need of a lot of work, but no less beautiful. A large red barn sat behind the house, looking exactly like I’d imagined one to look. If I peered far enough, I could see at least two more barns on the property. In the distance there were rows upon rows of cleared land, ready for the planting season.

Jude killed the engine on his truck and hopped out. I was left to follow.

He bounced up the rickety steps to the front door.

I was much slower, a bit afraid that the steps might cave in.

He opened the door and waved me inside ahead of him.

Like the exterior, the interior was obviously old and in need of repairs. Flowery pink wallpaper in the foyer peeled down and the wood floors needed to be sanded and re-stained. I still thought it was beautiful in a rustic, homey sort of way.

“Pap?” He called out. “Where are you?”

“Back here, boy!” Sounded a gruff voice from the
back of the house.

Jude nodded his head for me to follow him.

We rounded the hallway into a kitchen and the first thing I noticed was that it was covered with dirty dishes. It was also covered with at least ten baskets of eggs. I had never seen so many eggs in my life. Not even at Easter brunch as a child when we had an Easter egg hunt with family.

In the corner of the room, sitting at a small wood table, was an older man. His gray hair was thinning but there was a sparkle in his brown eyes—the same sha
de of brown as Jude’s. His face was heavily wrinkled, and he looked
tired
—like a man that had worked hard his whole life. Upon seeing us, he smiled and it lit up his face.

It didn’t escape my noticed that despite the fact that it was the evening, the man was reading the newspaper, a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. A cup of coffee and orange juice sat at the side of the plate.

“Pap,” Jude groaned, “what have I told you about the eggs?!” Not waiting for the man to respond, he continued, “They
spoil
. You either need to sell them, or toss them. You can’t eat all these.”

Lowering the newspaper, the older man responded. “Andrew, I’ve taken care of myself this long, I think I’m fine.”

Andrew?

“Pap—?”

“The yard needs to be mowed, do you think you can do that?” He talked right over Jude.

Jude shook his head. “You know I will, but not—”

“Today, please. It’s looking shabby.” His eyes landed on me. “Who’s this? Oh…is this Julia? She’s lovely, Andrew. You’re description didn’t do her justice. She’s stunning.”

I shot Jude a questioning gaze.

“Pap, we’ll be right back.” Jude reached for my hand and pulled me from the room.

“Alright, I’ll finish my breakfast while y’all talk,” the man said from the other room.

Once we were in the living room away from the kitchen, Jude released my hand. “I should’ve explained before we walked in here. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he muttered, shoving his fingers through his hair so it stuck up wildly. “That’s my grandpa, which I’m sure you’ve figured out. He has Alzheimer’s. Some days are good, some days are bad. Very bad. Like today. He was fine yesterday, so I thought he’d be okay today.”

“So, Andrew is…?” I prompted, my gaze travelling around the room. An old piano sat in the corner with an even older couch. One of those giant Grandfather clocks took up space against the wall. I’d never seen one in person. This house was screaming to be fixed up.

“My dad,” Jude clarified.

“And Julia?” I tilted my head to the side.

“I don’t know,” he frowned. “My mom’s name is Karen. When he gets like this, I’ve found it’s best to play along. He gets mad if I contradict him.” Jude’s eyes grew sad. Normally he always smiled or laughed, to see him like this was a new experience for me. Jude loved his grandpa. That was obvious.

“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with answering my question,” I muttered, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable. It had to be a terrible thing to lose your memories.

“It has everything to do with it,” Jude said simply. Pointing in the direction of the kitchen, he explained, “That man in there practically raised me. He was more of a dad to me than mine ever was. Watching him slowly start forgetting things hurt more than anything. When I started college, I knew I wanted to be a nurse and work in a nursing home. I wanted to work with people like my grandpa and maybe make their day a little nicer. I want to
help
, because watching someone you love slip away day by day is a terrible thing. If I can ease the burden for another family, I’m glad to do so.”

I think my mouth fell off at one point during his speech and currently rolled around on the floor.

Jude Brooks had a heart.

Hell must have frozen over. Between this, and my conflicted feelings over Graham’s death, today was proving overwhelming.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he shrugged. “But that’s the truth.”

I
shut my mouth, because if I spoke I might say something nice to him and that would not be good. Instead, I nodded.

“Are you okay to go back in there?”
He asked, appearing nervous—like he believed I’d be afraid of his grandpa.

“Of course,” I replied. “He’s not a rabid animal.”

Jude threw his head back and laughed merrily about that. He laughed a lot. Most guys didn’t. It would be refreshing if he wasn’t, well,
Jude
.

Back in the kitchen, his grandpa said, “Son, get the yard mowed. You’ve got all day to flirt with the pretty girl.”