Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (148 page)

I took a sip of the ice-cold water. I was thirsty and hadn’t realized it. I drank every last drop and set the glass on the ground beside me. 

I rocked slowly in the chair, letting my eyes drift closed as I hummed softly under my breath. 

It was nice here and I really liked Jerry, even if he didn’t know who I was.

Somewhere in the distance the sound of the tractor cut off. 

A few minutes later a sweaty Jude bound up the steps. 

“Tired?” I asked. 

He jumped at the sound of my voice, pushing damp hair from his eyes. “I’ll live,” he winked.

“Your grandpa’s making dinner,” I told him. 

“He was eating when we got here,” Jude groaned. “I’d joke that the man’s lost his mind, but that would be the truth,” he shrugged, sighing heavily. “And the truth makes for a pretty shitty joke.”

“Do you stay here with him often?” I asked, unable to help myself as I remembered the room Jerry had shown me earlier.

“A few times a week,” Jude admitted. “It depends on classes and how much time I have. This place isn’t exactly that close to school.” He shrugged. 

“No one else takes care of him?” I asked. I was full of questions today. 

Jude shook his head. “Only me.” Muttering under his breath, with venom lacing his words, he said, “No one else cares.”

Something in my heart shifted. 

I was beginning to realize that I’d misjudged Jude.

I’d hated him for the stunt he pulled with Graham’s girlfriend and the part I’d believed it played in Graham’s death.

I’d hated his whole playboy demeanor.

I’d hated the way he always seemed to use women.

But, the fact of the matter was, I didn’t really know him.

Right now, this man in front of me, was the real Jude and he just might be worth getting to know. 

“I’m going to shower before we go,” he informed me. “Pap will be mad if we don’t stay for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” He appeared almost sheepish.

“I don’t mind at all.” It was true. I liked Jerry and I hated to think of him sitting in this house eating dinner alone. In fact, I’m pretty sure it broke my heart.

“Good.” Jude’s smile was wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

With that, he disappeared inside and through the screen door. I could hear his boots slamming against the steps.

I stayed outside for a moment longer, admiring the way the stars sparkled like new diamonds and the sounds of nature weren’t masked by car horns and chaos.

Maybe there was a little bit of a country girl inside me.

I stood and folded the blanket, draping it over my arm. I placed it back inside the basket I got it from and joined Jerry in the kitchen.

“Can I help?” I asked, leaning against the doorway. My stomach came alive at the smell of whatever he was cooking. 

He turned to look over his shoulder at me. “Of course, sweetheart.”

I smiled at the term of endearment. I might not like Jude, but I was kind of falling in love with his grandpa. 

As I approached, I noticed he was stirring something in a large pot with a wooden spoon. “You take over with this,” he told me. “I’ll get the table set.”

I leaned closer to the pot and smelled. “Mmmm,” I couldn’t contain my hum of approval. I hadn’t had a home cooked meal like this in a long time. I could cook, but nothing I made could ever compare to how this smelled and I hadn’t even tasted it yet. 

Jerry chuckled from somewhere behind me. “You like the smell of that.”

“It smells so yummy,” I told him, stirring the mixture carefully.

“That’s my Mama’s world famous chili. That recipe has been passed down for generations,” he explained, setting bowls and napkins on the table. Returning to my side he said, “That should be done now.” He peered down at the mixture and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

He reached in front of me and turned off the stove eye. He picked up the pot, carrying it over to the table and placing it on a trivet. 

“Julia, there’s some cornbread in the oven, could you grab that for me?” He asked.

“Absolutely,” I replied, slipping an oven mitt on and reaching inside to pull out the pan. I placed it beside the chili and put the mitt back where I found it.

Before I could sit down, Jude strode into the kitchen. “Something smells good,” he sniffed the air, reaching above his head to clasp the top of the doorway leading into the kitchen. I swore he did it on purpose because the gesture did amazing things for his muscular arms and the way his shirt pulled taut over his chest hinted at a six-pack.

And oh my God, I was staring—and not just at anyone, but at Jude Freakin’ Brooks. 

Had my brain taken a vacation?

I cleared my throat and hastily turned my head away. From the telltale smirk on his face he hadn’t missed the fact that I had checked him out. I was never going to live this down.

“Andrew, stop gawking at the pretty girl and sit down and eat.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” he saluted his grandpa.

Jude and I sat side by side, facing his grandpa. He ladled out chili into all of our bowls and then bowed his head to say grace. Jude and I hastily followed suit, mimicking his position.

Once that was done, we all ate like we were starved to death. I could understand why Jude and I were hungry, but his grandpa had eaten ‘breakfast’ when we got here. It broke my heart that the man was basically losing his mind. It was horrible—something no one should have to go through, and no loved one should have to watch. 

I glanced at Jude out of the corner of my eye. He watched his grandpa carefully, his jaw clenched and his eyes lined with worry. If there was one person in the world that Jude loved, it was his grandpa. Today showed me that there was a depth to Jude anyone rarely saw. I might not like him, but I’d take this small gift he’d given me by showing his true colors. 

“This is delicious, Jerry,” I spoke up.

He smiled widely, pleased that I enjoyed it. “I’m happy to hear that. You should come over one day and I’ll teach you to make it.”

“Really?” I lit up at the same time that Jude said, “Quiet, Pap.”

“Certainly,” Jerry nodded at me. He narrowed his eyes at Jude, “Manners, boy.”

“Sorry,” Jude bowed his head like a small child who’d just been scolded.

It was so weird to see Jude cave so easily to everything his grandpa said. He respected and admired the man.

Once dinner was done, Jude and I stayed to clean the dishes. On his way out of the room, Jerry said, “Make sure to fix a bowl of leftovers for her to take home.”

“Will do,” Jude chimed, turning on the hot water and taking the bowls from my hands. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

We stood side by side, cleaning and putting away the dishes used.

If someone had told me a week ago that I would be in Jude’s grandpa’s house cleaning dishes I would have told them they were batshit crazy, flipped them the bird, and strode away. 

But right now, there was no place I’d rather be. 

I’d forgotten what it was like to sit down with other people and eat a meal. But it was more than that. There was a comfort present in this home that had long been absent from mine—even before Graham died.

Sometimes, I think the mind has the ability to make you forget traumatic things, at least temporarily. I wondered what all I might have blocked myself from remembering. 

“I hope he wasn’t too bad,” Jude murmured under his breath in case his grandpa still lurked near us. “I didn’t want to leave you alone with him, but I knew he wouldn’t quit asking me to mow and I if I didn’t do it, he’d try to and—”

I surprised us both by reaching up and placing a finger against his lips. It effectively ceased his rambling, but now we were locked in a staring contest and I wasn’t sure who would look away first.

Of course it was me. 

Swallowing thickly, I continued to dry the already pristine bowl in my hands. “You had nothing to worry about,” I told him. “Your grandpa is pretty amazing.” 

He chuckled. “You might be the only person that thinks so.”

“Besides you,” I added, because we both knew it was true. He didn’t need to say it.

“Yeah,” he cracked a smile, “I think he’s pretty amazing.” He looked over his shoulder, as if his grandpa was standing there, but I’d heard his footsteps ascend the steps a few minutes earlier. “I worry about him,” he whispered under his breath, then looked at me with soft brown eyes.

I didn’t know how to handle this Jude. He was a stranger to me. 

None of my normal bitchy comments would be appropriate right now. Jude was being oddly serious, and I needed to do the same. It was hard though, because I was afraid of being played.

“I’m sure you do,” I gave him a reassuring smile. Because he’d opened up about why he wanted to be a nurse, and showed me a vulnerable side of himself that I hadn’t known existed before, I added, “I worry about my mom.”

“Your mom? Why?” His thick brows furrowed together.

I let out a heavy sigh. My shoulders drooped with heaviness. “It’s a long story.”

“I like stories.” His voice was soft with none of his normal joking tone.

“This isn’t a story I want to tell,” I shrugged, setting the dish aside and taking the next one he offered me. Since it was the last, he pulled the plug from the sink and the soapy water swirled away.

He leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. The action caused his short sleeve shirt to ride up a bit, exposing the smooth planes of his stomach and the dents that disappeared underneath the band of his jeans.

Annnnd, I was staring. Again. 

Jude noticed where my eyes lingered and a smirk lifted his full lips. “It’s okay to look, Tatum.”

A blush stained my cheeks and I hastily turned away. I hated being flustered but I was beginning to feel like that’s all I ever was around Jude.

“We better go,” he said, grabbing up two plastic containers full of chili—one for me and one for him. “It’s getting pretty late.”

For the first time since we arrived on the farm I thought of my mother home alone with no one to take care of her. I couldn’t believe I’d completely forgotten her. What was wrong with me? 

Jude pulled on a sweatshirt and held the front door open for me. 

The small lights outside didn’t provide enough clarity for walking, so Jude guided me to his truck with a hand balanced above my waist. He held the door open for me as I climbed inside and then handed me the containers to hold on the ride home. 

Neither of us said much, and it wasn’t until he dropped me off at campus to get my car that I realized he’d never asked me a question today.

“HEY, MR. JENKINS, HOW are you doing?” Jude asked the man lying in the bed as he glanced down at a chart. 

“I’m doing better now that you’re here,” the man coughed, his entire small frame shaking with the movement. “None of these women ever want to talk about sports. It’s annoying.”

Jude chuckled and pulled out a chair, sitting beside the man. He reached for his arm and started taking his pulse. “What do you want to talk about today?”

“Baseball,” he responded. 

As Jude took the man’s vitals he immediately lapsed into an easy conversation about different teams, stats, and a bunch of other things that sounded like he was speaking Martian. I’d been a cheerleader for a short time before Graham died, and I knew a little about football, but not enough to brag about.

As Jude quieted, taking notes, the man asked, “Who’s this pretty lady? Your girlfriend?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I spat before Jude could respond and I said it like it was the grossest thing imaginable.

“She doesn’t know it yet,” Jude’s grin lifted his cheeks as he looked at Mr. Jenkins, “but one day I’m going to marry that girl.”

“Over my dead body,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes as I stood in the corner jotting down notes for my paper.

“I’m a nurse. I could revive you,” he quipped without a second of thought. Jude had an answer for everything. Turning towards the man lying in the bed, he told him, “She thinks she’s immune to my charm, but she’s not. No one is.” Looking back at me he winked. 

I shook my head, feigning that I was disgusted, but I really wasn’t. With as much time as I’d spent with Jude in the past week of shadowing him, I’d gotten to the point that I could tolerate him. I was trying to watch what I said and not be rude, because I really hoped he’d take me back to his grandpa’s farm. I was dying to see it during the day.

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Jenkins reached over and patted Jude’s hand, “she’ll come around one day.”

Smiling at me with his brown eyes sparkling, he said, “I know.”

“So, if you’re not his girlfriend, why are you here?” Mr. Jenkins addressed me.

I wanted to laugh at his girlfriend comments. It seemed he, and everyone else, was convinced that we were dating. 

“I’m writing a paper on nurses and how much work they have to do. It’ll cover more than that, but that’s just the gist of it,” I shrugged, twirling my pencil between my fingers from nerves. 

“Interesting,” he commented, and then turned to Jude and started talking about sports again.

In my time at the nursing home with Jude, I’d quickly learned that he took the time to get know everyone. He knew personal details about each person he dealt with, and spent time talking to them. I’d seen several patients’ light up as soon as he entered their room.