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)
A popular thriller.
“Grandpa,” Jude says. “He reads a lot. Sometimes I come in here and pretend to read with him.”
My heart squeezes at that statement. He pretends to read so he can sit in the quiet with his grandfather. Maybe me moving in here was a great idea. I’m uncovering a lot more about Jude than I ever imagined. Certainly gives me better tools to work with.
“I’ve read this one. It’s really good.” I grin at him. “Maybe I can come read one day with you both.”
Jude gives me another sharp nod. “The door closes and there is plentiful seating here. You may take your sessions in here with my family.”
The library is my new office?
Not going to argue with that one.
I mosey around the office, admiring the titles of many books I’ve read and loved, and also making a mental note to check out others later to read. Jude stands sentry by the windows, watching my every move but hardly making any movements himself. I’m engrossed in reading the blurb on the back of a thriller from the ’80s when I hear a low whining sound.
Whipping around, I face the doorway to learn the sound is coming from that direction. Jude doesn’t appear to be startled, so I wait patiently until the sound appears visually in the doorway. A frail, white-haired elderly man with a scowl looks at Jude before turning his attention to me.
“Violet tells me we have a guest and that I must make your acquaintance,” the man says grumpily, the oxygen line hooked under his nose wobbling as he speaks. “Wyatt. Who are you?”
I set the book down on the table before approaching him with a smile. “Tate. Tate Prince. I’m—”
“You’re what? Jude’s friend?”
I glance over at Jude, who gives me a small nod. “I am. I’m here to bring him out of his shell.”
To say the least.
Wyatt snorts. “Kid’s been in his shell since the fire that killed his momma.”
The air chills several degrees. I expect Jude to blow up or storm off. He does neither. Just stands there like a gargoyle made of stone.
“It must have hurt something awful.” I give Wyatt a small smile. “Probably for everyone.”
My cat, having slipped out of the bedroom, prances into the library and then hops into Wyatt’s lap. He startles at first and then chuckles. “Well, hello there.”
Funky purrs, rubbing his head against the man’s weather hand.
“Funky likes cuddles and he’s too nosey for his own good,” I say in exasperation. “I’m sorry. I can put him away.”
Wyatt scowls at me, hugging the cat to him. “I was just starting to like you, Tate. Don’t ruin it.”
I smirk at his grumpiness. The old man likes cats. That’s a win for me and my furry feline.
“Harlan Coben is one of my favorites,” Wyatt says, nodding toward the abandoned book. “Seen a couple of his books adapted for TV. Not great, but when you’ve seen everything, it’s entertainment. I’ll always stick with my books over television, though.”
“Amen,” I say with a grin. “The book is always better.”
Jude prowls closer and I shoot him a curious look. Since I can’t see his expression, I have to go on his body language. He doesn’t seem angry or agitated. If anything, it’s as if he wants to get closer to be a part of the conversation. But since he already admitted to pretending to read, I know it has nothing to do with the book. He just wants to be included—desperate to connect.
“I saw a book about a hacker over there who uncovers some shady stuff going on with the government. He gets caught up in a web as he tries to save everyone in harm’s way. I think it’s a bit of a redemption story,” I tell Jude. “Might add that one to your reading list.”
He nods more than once. Does that mean he’s enthusiastic about the recommendation? Wyatt’s bushy white eyebrows pinch together as he studies Jude with narrowed eyes. Then he turns back to me. “After supper, pull the book. We can all enjoy our desserts and read a few chapters of our books before we turn in for the night.”
A bell jingles from somewhere else in the house. This alerts Funky and he launches himself out of Wyatt’s lap to chase after the sound.
“Dinner?” I ask no one in particular.
Wyatt maneuvers his wheelchair around and races down the hallway, leaving me alone with Jude. I guess that answers my question. Jude slowly approaches until he’s towering over me. His dark blue eyes bore into me from behind the openings in his mask. This is the first time his closeness doesn’t intimidate me.
It feels…nice.
Like he’s seeing another side of me than intruder therapist guy.
Like he might see the real me. The hurting me. The terrified me. The lonely me.
I’m not sure I want to allow Jude of all people in to see those parts I’m not proud of, but I was serious when I told him I wanted to get to know him and earn his trust. If that means revealing those sides of me, then I will.