Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (153 page)

I stepped inside, looking around for him. I didn’t see him, though. He was probably only home to grab something before leaving once more. It was what I’d come to expect. In the last six months, I’d only seen him a handful of times. There were other times I’d known he’d been home, the evidence left sitting around in the form of mugs of coffee and packets of sugar. 

My mom sat on the family room couch. I stepped into the room and kissed her forehead. “I’ll make dinner mom.”

She didn’t acknowledge my words. I didn’t expect her to. It would shock me if I ever heard her voice again. I honestly wondered why my dad had never tried to get her help. Maybe he knew it was hopeless.

In the kitchen I pulled out ingredients to make fettuccine alfredo. I loved pasta, and would live off the stuff if I weren’t afraid of clogging my arteries.

I grabbed my iPod, set it on the docking station, and let the music filter into the too quiet kitchen. I didn’t think it would ever stop bothering me that so few words were spoken in this house anymore.

I was humming along to a song, when I heard, “Tatum.”

I jumped, letting out a squeal. The spoon I’d been using to stir the sauce went flying through the air and landed on the floor, sauce splattering everywhere.

“Hi, dad,” I squeaked, taking in the tall man in front of me. He was slimmer than the last time I saw him, his light hair mostly gray now. Lines that weren’t there a few months ago turned his mouth down in a permanent frown. My dad had never been a happy man anyway. 

“It’s nice to see you.” His voice was low and gravelly.

“Uh, yeah,” I tucked a piece of blonde hair behind my ear, feeling über awkward, “it’s nice to see you too?” For some reason it came out sounding like a question.

“What are you making?” He asked, peering around me to get a look at the pots on the stove.

“Fettuccine alfredo,” I replied.

“Oh,” he nodded.

“Are you staying for dinner?” I dared to ask.

“No.”

Of course. I expected it, but it still hurt. 

“Alright,” I sighed, picking the spoon off the floor and tossing it in the sink. I grabbed another from the drawer and returned to making dinner after cleaning up the mess. “I’ll see you later, dad.” And by later I meant a month from now.

“Bye kiddo,” he said from the doorway. Minutes passed, and I thought he’d left, but then he said, “You seem happy.”

By the time I whipped around, he was gone and I was left mulling over his words. 

I was happy, and that was all thanks to the guy I was hell-bent on hating. 

They always said hate was as passionate as love. I was starting to see how true that was.

“TWIZZLERS, MILADY,” JUDE SING-songed, dropping a plastic bag from Sheetz in front of me. 

I looked in the plastic green bag and pulled out the pack of Twizzlers. “You’re awesome.” I tore open the wrapping and pulled out one of the red pieces of licorice. 

“You look like you need a pick me up,” he shrugged, sliding out the chair across from me. “I wanted some gummy bears,” he shook another bag in his hand, “so when I saw those I thought I’d get them for you.”

“Thank you,” I told him, taking another bite. I stared at the computer screen in front of me, wishing the words would magically appear. I was still having trouble with my paper—the one Jude was helping me with. I couldn’t seem to find the proper words to convey what I needed to say. I wanted my words to be powerful, and everything I wrote sounded weak to me.

“Where’s Rowan?” He asked, looking around the library. 

“She must be running late,” I shrugged, glaring at the damn blinking cursor on my word document. I swore the thin black line was mocking me. 

“Having trouble?” He asked, opening the bag of gummy bears and popping a green one in his mouth. I detested the green ones. And the yellow ones. Actually, I hated all gummy bears after my last incident with them. Nasty little things. They looked so cute and innocent with their tiny bodies and little faces. Douse them in vodka and they could take out anyone.

“Can you get those away from me?” I pointed at the bag of gummy bears, fighting my gag reflex. He slid the bag on his lap, chuckling under his breath. “And yes, I’m having trouble. I can’t get my paper to sound right,” I frowned. “I feel like I can’t convey the proper emotions.”

“Well,” he started, chewing on an orange gummy bear, “why don’t you try not overthinking it.”

“It’s not that simple,” I mumbled, musing my hair—I was sure it looked like a rat’s nest with as many times as I had ruffled it in the last hour. 

“Yes it is,” he argued, propping his feet up on the table. “You have to let yourself feel.”

“Feeling gets me in trouble,” I mumbled. Like letting Jude kiss me again in his truck. I shouldn’t have let him do that. But I did and it was amazing, but now I felt conflicted. He was breaking down all the walls I’d spent the last seven years building around my heart. He was forging a special place in there for himself and I didn’t know what I’d do when he inevitably screwed it up. A person could only be hurt so many times before they fell apart completely, and I thought I’d met my quota.

“Is it that it gets you in trouble?” He repeated my words. “Or that it scares you?” He tapped his fingers along the wooden tabletop. “Never let fear dictate your life.”

“Why do I feel like we’re no longer talking about my paper?” I breathed.

“Because, we’re not.” He took off the beanie he wore, tousled his hair, and replaced it.

“You don’t scare me.” I stated, tilting my head slightly to the side.

“I know I don’t,” he replied immediately. He leaned forward and his voice dropped low, like he was letting me in on a secret. “But what you feel for me…that’s what scares you.”

I squirmed in my seat. “That’s not true.”

“You’re such a bad liar, I almost feel sorry for you,” he replied, returning to his previous position with his legs perched on the table.

I ignored him and went back to staring at my computer screen. With a groan of frustration I saved what I had written and slammed the lid closed. “This is pointless.”

“Want to go get ice cream?” He suggested. “I hear that makes everything better.”

“Didn’t you just eat a whole bag of gummy bears?”

“It was half a bag. Big difference,” he grinned, letting his feet drop to the ground. He stood and stretched his arms above his head. The movement caused his shirt to ride up, exposing the bottom of his smooth stomach. I wished I wasn’t staring, but I was. I was looking at him a lot lately, and not with hate in my eyes. What had become of me? “What do you say? Ice cream?” 

He must’ve known I could never say no to ice cream. 

“Sure.” I stood, packing up my stuff. It wasn’t like I’d been getting a lot accomplished anyway.

On our way out of the library we ran into Rowan. She paused in her steps and her grin said it all—she was exited at the idea of Jude and I spending time alone. 

“Where are you guys going?” She asked, adjusting her hold on her books.

“To get ice cream,” Jude replied.

“Ice cream?” With her smile widening, she said, “I notice you didn’t invite me.”

Jude’s smile mirrored hers. Looking from me to Rowan, he shrugged. “You wanna get ice cream? I’m buying.” 

“No, but thanks anyway.” She suppressed a laugh, hiding her growing smile behind her free hand. 

“See you later, Row,” Jude lowered his head and kissed her cheek before running out the doors.

Shaking her head Rowan looked at me and muttered, “That boy.”

Those two words summed up Jude perfectly. 

With a quick wave I mumbled goodbye to Rowan.

Jude waited outside on the steps for me. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans and he looked out towards the parking lot. The sun created a golden halo around him. If I was honest with myself, he took my breath away. I think maybe he always had. Even before Graham died, I’d always been one to deny my feelings. I bottled them up and stored them away carefully in neat little drawers, never to be peeked at again. I always did whatever it took not to get hurt. Even if it meant holding myself back. 

 I didn’t bother suggesting that we take separate cars. I knew Jude would veto that idea immediately.

Once in his old blue truck, he turned the heat on and glanced at me before backing out. “Do I get to ask you a question today?”

“You just did.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” He chanted. “You’re so clever, Tater Tot.”

“I detect sarcasm in your tone.” I did my best to keep from smiling. I failed. 

“You do indeed. But I do actually think you’re the smartest person I know.” His tone was serious.

“Thank you,” I told him, a bit taken aback.

“You’re also the prettiest.”

I held up a hand. “Quit while you’re ahead, Brooks.”

He chuckled, scratching his lightly stubbled jaw. “Okay, okay. But you never actually answered my question.”

“You can ask me whatever you want,” I shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Hmm,” he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, driving into the old part of town. “Why do you want to be a journalist?”

“Because I want to write about things that matter,” I replied immediately, without a second of thought. “If I can make a difference with something I wrote…well, that would be the best feeling in the world.” A small smile touched my lips. “You know, I think you’re the first person to ask me that.”

“I think that’s a pretty amazing answer,” he whispered, his eyes a dark stormy brown when he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

I racked my brain for a question to ask him. I finally settled on, “When can I go back to the farm?”

He glanced at me, adjusting his hold on the steering wheel. I expected him to laugh or say something mocking, but he did neither. Jude Brooks was full of surprises.

“Whenever you want, pretty girl.” He smiled over at me—a genuine smile too, not one of the cocky ones he always seemed to wear. “I’m surprised you like it there.”

“I love it,” I whispered. “It feels like home,” I whispered under my breath, but of course he heard.

“It is home.”

I STARED OPEN-MOUTHED at all the ice cream flavors before me. This was the equivalent of heaven to sugar lovers like myself.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.” Jude shook his head incredulously. “That’s a real shame.”

“I’m here now.” I scanned the selections for the tenth time. 

“With me,” he added unnecessarily. “I like having you with me.”

I ignored his comment, before I either said something rude or overly gooey and affectionate, because dammit I was really starting to like the guy and I mean like, like him, and I’d really hate to get myself in trouble.

The girl working behind the counter tapped her fingers impatiently. “Have you decided yet?”

Rude, much? Didn’t she know choosing ice cream flavors was a monumental decision, not to be taken so lightly?

I didn’t say any of that, though. Instead I answered, “A scoop of the fresh strawberry and banana.”

“In a cone or a cup?” She droned, clearly bored with her job as she picked at invisible dirt under her nails.

“A cup,” I replied. She grabbed a scoop and got my ice cream. Before she could hand it over I clapped my hands. “Ooh, ooh! I want rainbow sprinkles too!”

Jude chortled beside me. When I glared at him, he asked, “What are you, five?”

I stuck my tongue out at him as she handed me the cup. 

Jude ordered three scoops of chocolate on a cone. When the girl finished and handed it to him, my eyes threatened to bug out of my head. The thing was massive. Like, as long as my arm, and he was going to eat it? Looking at his light gray shirt and tan colored pants I really hoped he didn’t let it drip on his clothes. That would be unpleasant. And then, knowing Jude, he’d probably try to give me a striptease as he removed the soiled clothes. Okay, now I was picturing him getting naked and I liked that image a little too much…or a lot too much. Crap. I was in deep. 

Looking over at Jude as he paid the bill, I realized that there was no reason for us to continue with this silly ‘bet.’ He’d already won. I wasn’t telling him that yet, though. I needed to drag this out for as long as I could. If he found out I had feelings for him…it wouldn’t be good. I didn’t see what was so different about me that he’d change his womanizing ways, and I didn’t want to deal with the pain of heartbreak. 

“What are you thinking about so deeply?” Jude asked, with a light hand on my waist as he guided me to the table. He licked at the rapidly melting cone as he slid into the chair across from me.

“Nothing.” I replied hastily.

“That look did not mean ‘nothing.’” He eyed me, giving me a look that said I was stupid if I thought I could pull something over on him. I’d always been good about hiding my feelings and keeping things bottled up inside, but Jude not only saw right through me, but he also tended to get me to spill my guts. I wasn’t going to let that happen this time, though.

“I was staring off into space,” I shrugged easily, lifting a spoonful of ice cream to my mouth. “Oh my God,” I moaned embarrassingly loud. “That’s the best ice cream I’ve ever had.” Sweet baby Jesus, I was pretty sure I could live off this stuff. This was more than ice cream…it was like a treasure chest of buried gold—rare and amazing.