Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 151333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
None of that feels right to me.
While I’m glad to be back home, the house feels uncomfortably quiet and lonely without Jude here. Other than the time he stayed out all night talking to Asher Valentine, I’ve never slept in the house without him here.
I wander into his bedroom. Not to snoop exactly, but to see if there’s any blatant signs that he’s been with another woman. I feel like a sketchy bitch when I check his trash for condom wrappers, but I have to know.
I’m glad to see there aren’t any.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see something on his nightstand that I don’t remember ever seeing before, and I cross the room to see what it is. At first, I think it’s a postcard, but as I get closer, I realize it’s a picture.
Of me.
My heart feels heavy when I pick it up. It’s the first picture I texted him when we first met. My hair is a mess and I’m smiling like a goofball with Gus on my lap.
I smile at the memory.
I put the picture back, careful to make sure it’s exactly where it was, and go to my own room. Gus and Cassie follow me and jump on the bed, seemingly happy to have their nightly routine back. Exhaustion has my head throbbing with a dull ache, but I know I won’t be able to sleep when thoughts of Jude are running rampant in my mind. Him getting hurt is painfully eye-opening. What if it had been more serious? What if he’d died? I wish we had talked more over the phone while I was staying with my father instead of leaving things so unfinished.
Regardless, unless he outright asks me to leave, I’m staying here to take care of him until he’s better, whether he likes it or not.
With a deep sigh, I flop down on the bed. My necklace falls to the side of my neck, and I bolt upright, reaching behind my head to unclasp it. I hold the small vial in my hand, staring at the tiny letters inside.
Now is when I need to know what the message says.
With shaky fingers, I unscrew the tiny silver cap and pour all the miniature letters onto my comforter. Frowning at them, I realize even my small fingers are still too big to easily rearrange the letters. I run to the bathroom to get my tweezers, then start to play around with words.
Never.
Love.
You.
Only.
Stay.
Holy moly. This is impossible.
Two hours later, I haven’t made any understandable progress and I need a break. Venturing downstairs, I munch on some graham crackers and have a small glass of iced tea. I stare out the window at the moon and attempt to clear my head of jumbled words. Slightly renewed, I return to my room filled with determination to figure out the message.
At two thirty a.m., with my eyes blurry and my heart pounding with excitement, I finally have the letters arranged into what I’m positive is my message from Jude:
You’re the only one I ever want to stay.
A tiny squeak escapes from my throat.
My insides are fluttering wildly, wondering if he means these words literally—as in, does he never want me to go? Or am I just the only woman he’d ever consider staying with, if he actually wanted a relationship?
I take a picture of the assembled message with my phone so I can read it whenever I want, then gingerly put all the letters back in the vial and twist the cap back on.
The words are so subtly romantic, so powerful. If only he could actually say them.
Chapter 51
Jude
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I am resting,” I shoot back. It’s not true, though. I can’t sit still, or stop worrying about everything I should be doing. I’ve been home for a week and I’m going stir-crazy.
She reaches across the couch, pulls my phone out of my hand, and throws it onto the coffee table. “You’re not resting. You’ve been on your phone nonstop since you came home from the hospital. You’re not supposed to be staring at the screen that much. Are you trying to give yourself a seizure?”
Skylar’s been amazing at playing nurse since I came home. The first few days, she helped me up and down the stairs, get in and out of bed, and on and off the couch. Every four hours she made sure I took my pills. She massaged my back with the gentleness of a butterfly. She held an ice pack on my head all night when I had a migraine, refusing to let herself sleep until I felt better. She cooked for me and did my laundry. She took care of Cassie. She read over all the emails going back and forth about the bar because the brain fog I had made me forget things ten minutes after I read them. She drove me to the doctor for my checkups. Anything I needed—she was right there with a smile.