by Sara Davison
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I needed you.” Her voice quivered.
Jude lifted his hands. “It was stupid and selfish of me, kiddo. I’m really sorry. I know I can’t, really, but if you’ll let me, I want to try to make it up to you.”
She raised herself slightly on tiptoes and held that position, as if debating with herself whether to stay or turn and go. Finally, she lowered her heels slowly to the floor. The intense emotion radiating off of her eased. “That’s going to take a lot.”
“Understood.”
“I mean an awful lot.”
“Like Joey’s every day for a month?” Her favorite place to go for ice cream when she was a teen. Did she like it still? Was Joey’s even around anymore? He repressed a sigh. He didn’t only have a lot of making up to do but a lot of catching up, too.
“More like a year.”
“You got it.” Not that he’d necessarily be in town that long, but he’d figure out a way to make it up to his sister for abandoning her if it took the rest of his life.
She flung herself against him so hard he took a step backwards before steadying himself and wrapping his arms around her. She sobbed against his chest while he held her. For several minutes she cried, all the tears she’d needed to shed in his arms years ago, more than likely. Jude stroked her back as she wept, his T-shirt dampening beneath her cheek.
His gaze met his mother’s over Maddie’s head. She stood, her hand pressed to her mouth, watching them through tear-filled eyes. He couldn’t believe that Maddie would trust him like that. Or that his mother had welcomed him home without hesitation. He didn’t deserve either their trust or their welcome, and to receive both nearly drove him to his knees.
Thank you, Lord. Even if his family didn’t believe, they’d still shown him grace, the way God had when Jude had gone, weeping, to him. The prodigal son who was fully aware he did not deserve to be called a son. Far greater grace than he deserved, but he was more grateful for it than he could say.
He pressed a kiss to his sister’s head and tightened his hold on her. As it had to have been for the younger son in the story, coming home had been harder and more amazing than he could have ever dreamt, but the thing he had to do next might be even harder.
He had to face his older brother.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Summer lifted a slice of lemon loaf, dripping with glaze, from the platter on the counter and slid it onto a plate next to a pumpkin spice latte Daphne had made. The woman who’d placed the order had come into the bakery a few minutes after Ryan had arrived. A leggy blonde who looked like she might be more at home on a runway than in a coffee shop in little Elora. Summer was surprised she’d ordered the loaf as it didn’t appear as though she’d ingested a carb in her life.
Ryan had smiled and thanked her when Summer handed him his coffee and croissant but, since there was a long line of customers behind him, they hadn’t been able to talk much before he’d taken his laptop and breakfast to a quiet table in the corner. A table that Summer was studiously avoiding looking over at. The woman she’d served had no such qualms. She managed to pull her debit card out of her wallet and tap the machine to pay her bill without taking her eyes off of Ryan. As Summer watched, she gathered up her drink and food, tossed her long hair over her shoulder, and wended her way past the tables to the one closest to him.
No es asunto tuyo. She sighed. No, it wasn’t her business. She and Ryan had only been out a couple of times. They weren’t seeing each other, and they certainly weren’t involved in an exclusive relationship. She had no right to feel this territorial about him.
“So, how did it go Friday night?” The crowd had thinned, finally, and Daphne wandered over to stand beside Summer at the counter.
“Good. The food was amazing, although the burgers we ordered could have fed a couple of small villages.”
Daphne leaned back against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “That’s great, but I wasn’t talking about the food.”
Summer swiped crumbs off the counter with the side of her hand into her cupped palm. “I know.”
“So? From the smile he gave you when he came in, I’m guessing you have a few juicy tidbits to share.”
She dumped the crumbs into the garbage can. From past experience, she knew there was little use trying to keep anything from her friend. “All right, we did have a good time. After dinner, we went for a walk along the river, which was mostly great.”
Daphne arched an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
“Yeah. You know that area where you go down a few stairs and look out over the river?”
“You mean Lover’s Leap?”
Summer blinked. “Is that what it’s called?”
“Yeah, some ancient legend about a native princess jumping to her death from that spot after her love was killed in battle or something. What about it?”
“Nothing really, except Ryan seemed a bit uptight when I leaned over the wall to see the view.”
“Hmm. People do fall down the ravine sometimes. A few hikers have been killed at the gorge. He was likely worried about your safety.”
“That’s what he said.”
Daphne pursed her lips. “That’s sweet.”
“It was, actually. He was sweet later, too, when I tripped over a tree root and fell.”
“Oh no, were you okay?”
Summer’s cheeks warmed, remembering. “It was more embarrassing than anything. Especially when I went to get up and stuck my hand in a puddle of icy water.”
Daphne’s hand flew to her mouth. “Ana.”
“I know. Total klutz, which I’m not usually.” Unless she’d become one in the last few years. Or maybe after she’d taken the blow to the head. She frowned. Was that possible?
“What did he do?”
“He helped me up and we headed home.”
Daphne cocked her head. “Was that it? I mean, that’s nice and all, but not necessarily sweet, and you said—”
Summer held up a hand. “I know what I said.” Might as well save them both some time. “All right, he took my glove off and held my hand to keep it warm until we got home. Which, yes, was sweet.”
A dreamy look crossed Daphne’s face. “And romantic.”
Summer shot a look at the corner in time to see the blonde flip her hair back again as she leaned close to Ryan. He said something and she laughed as though it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Ignoring the slight tightening in her stomach, Summer turned back to her friend. “You’re married to the most romantic man in the world—why do you feel the need to live vicariously through my essentially non-existent love life?”
Daphne smiled as she looked over at the door to the kitchen. “Because I want you to be as happy as I am. And Ryan seems like a really nice guy. Not to mention that he is muy guapo.”
Summer flushed. “Daphne.” Ryan might be extremely handsome, but he was also very much in the room. While he likely didn’t speak a word of Spanish, she still didn’t want to have this conversation in his presence.
Daphne hip-checked her lightly. “Admit it, you think so too.”
Irrepressible. Summer shook her head. “All right, I admit it. Él es muy guapo. Satisfied? También está muy interesado en la mujer hermosa que le está hablando.”
Daphne peered around her. “He is not interested in her. She’s obviously throwing herself at him and he is trying very hard to extricate himself from the conversation and get back to whatever it is he was doing on that laptop.”
“Writing.”
“He’s a writer?”
“Apparently.”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s very cool. Anything I might have heard of?”
“I doubt it. He says he mostly writes articles for online magazines.” Summer nudged her with her shoulder. “And could you stop staring at him? He’ll know we’re talking about him.”
“Fine.” Daphne reached for the tongs and started rearranging the food on the platters, straightening everything
after the morning rush. “Are you going to see him again?”
“We’re supposed to go out tomorrow night. Unless he’s making other plans.” Her gaze wandered again to Ryan’s table and she blew out a breath. Basta. Enough. “Since it’s slowed down, I’m going to take the garbage out to the dumpster, okay?”
“Sure.” Daphne set the lid on a platter and reached for another one. “I’ll keep an eye on…” She tipped her head in Ryan’s direction as subtly as she did everything else, “…things here.”
Summer rolled her eyes before pushing through the kitchen doors. Shawn stood in his usual place at the island, his apron and beard coated in flour. He looked up from the bowl of batter he was stirring and smiled at her. “Hey, Ana. How are things out front? My wife behaving?”
Summer grinned. “Other than trying to arrange my love life for me, I suppose she is.”
He laughed. “That sounds like Daph.”
She lifted the lid from the garbage can. “It’s pretty quiet out there, so I’ll take this to the dumpster.”
“Great, thanks.”
Summer hauled the bag out of the can and headed for the back door. A little fresh air would hopefully clear her mind of thoughts she didn’t want to be consumed with. Namely those of the hombre extremadamente guapo and the woman doing her best to attract his attention.
A surge of adrenaline pumped through her and she dragged the bag across the alley as though it weighed next to nothing. She’d told herself the first time Ryan had come into the coffee shop that she shouldn’t get involved with him. The fact that she was wrestling now with petty thoughts about the woman sitting in there with him proved her point.
Lowering her guard and letting Ryan Taylor in, even a little bit, had been a big mistake.
Ryan strained to hear what Summer and Daphne were talking about. It was a challenge to hear them over the irritating laugh of the woman who for some reason was seriously inserting herself into his space. In between the silly questions he felt compelled to answer or seem rude, he was able to catch snatches of their conversation. He raised his mug quickly to hide a smile. So Summer thought he was extremely handsome, did she? He’d take that. And was that a hint of jealousy in her voice when she told Daphne he was interested in the woman trying to talk to him? Should he play that up a little?
Jude sobered and set down the mug. He had no interest in playing games with Summer. Besides, he had other things to think about today. He reached for the chocolate croissant he’d ordered in an attempt to fortify himself for the coming confrontation with his brother. Jude took a bite then tossed the croissant onto his plate. Who was he kidding? As delicious as it was, he didn’t need a hit of sugar to give him the courage to do what he had to do. He needed Summer.
A movement behind the counter caught his eye and he straightened abruptly. She was heading to the back. Was she going outside? The woman at the table beside him blinked and snapped her mouth shut. He’d obviously missed everything she had just said. “Sorry.” Jude closed his laptop and shoved it into the bag. “I need to get going.” He stood and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Nice meeting you.”
“You too.” She crossed one long leg over the other. “Will I see you in here again?”
“I don’t know.” Jude was already a few steps away.
She called out a goodbye as he headed for the exit and he lifted a hand before shoving open the door and stepping into the crisp, winter day. A gust of frigid air blew around him, carrying a hint of smoke drifting from a nearby chimney. Or was that from a cigarette? He inhaled deeply as he strode to the corner of the building and turned into the alleyway that ran between the Taste of Heaven Café and the antique shop next door.
Summer stood in front of a large green dumpster, grasping the top of a garbage bag that had to be half her size.
“Hey.” Jude called out, hoping to stop her before she tried to lift it.
Instead, she grasped the bag and hauled it over the top of the dumpster before turning to him. “Hey.”
Jude stopped in front of her. “I was going to help you with that.”
A hint of mischief sparked in her eyes. “I know.”
He shook his head at her refusal to accept help, although he should be used to it by now. He reached for the hand she’d soaked in the puddle and examined it. “How are the fingers doing?”
When she didn’t answer, he looked up and his breath caught in his throat at the way she was looking at him. Summer swallowed and pulled her hand from his. “They’re fine, thanks to you.” She started for the door. “I should get to work, though, and you should get back to your friend.”
“My friend?”
She stopped beside the door and turned around. “Yes, the woman you were talking to inside.”
Jude cocked his head. “She’s not my friend. I don’t even know her. And I have no interest in—”
Summer held up her hand. “You don’t have to explain. I have no say in what you do or who you see.”
He walked over to her. She leaned back against the wall as he stopped in front of her. “Ana.” Careful. Don’t push too hard or you’ll lose her. As far as she knew, they’d only met a few weeks ago. Still, he was getting a little tired of the slow, steady approach. Might be time to take things to the next level. Jude pressed a palm to the wall beside her head. “From the first day I walked into the café, you have to know you’ve been the only one I see.” He searched her dark eyes. Would she run? If so, it wouldn’t be the first time. His chest tightened. They’d reached a crossroads. The next few seconds would determine whether he could move ahead with his plan or if they would be done.
Summer swallowed but met his gaze steadily. For a moment, nothing moved except the electricity that arced between them so strongly he could almost hear the zapping sound. Jude was afraid to breathe, in case the slightest sound or twitch broke the spell. Slowly, Summer reached up and slid warm fingers around the back of his neck, tugging him down. Right before their lips touched, she whispered, “Okay?”
He smiled. “Always.”
She pressed her lips to his. The sensation was so right, so familiar, yet so shockingly powerful that it took everything he had not to gather her in his arms and pull her to him. When her fingers finally slid from his neck, Jude needed a few seconds to come down to earth and open his eyes. Whew. If that didn’t fortify him to face Cash, nothing would.
“Despampanante,” Summer breathed.
Jude almost laughed. It had been stunning. Better for her not to know he was fluent in Spanish though, since she and Daphne were clearly using it to speak freely in front of him. Which could get interesting. “Is that good?”
“Better than good.” The gleam was back in her eyes. “And, I promise you, better than it would have been with the blonde in the coffee shop.”
“There was a blonde in the coffee shop?”
Summer tipped back her head and laughed, the most beautiful sound he’d heard in weeks. She pressed a hand lightly to his chest. “I really should get back to work.”
Jude pushed away from the wall and dropped his arm with a sigh. “All right, if you must. See you tomorrow night?”
“Apparently.” She flashed him a smile as she pulled open the back door. He watched until she had disappeared inside. Then he adjusted the strap of his laptop bag more securely on his shoulder and started for the sidewalk. They’d survived their first moment of truth, but no doubt there would be more.
The smell of smoke still hung in the air, stronger than before. Jude sniffed. Definitely a cigarette. He glanced up and down the street but couldn’t see anyone smoking. He shrugged. Not his business what people around here did.
Besides—he pressed his lips together, the light taste of Summer’s cherry gloss still lingering there—there were plenty of things he’d rather be thinking about at the moment than other people’s vices.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
If he’d thought the steps leading to his mother’s home loomed large, the two flights of stairs going up
to his brother Cash’s apartment appeared as high as Jacob’s ladder—the top disappearing into the heavens. Jude took several deep breaths, blowing them out his mouth as he gripped the banister.
After he’d seen his mother and sister the day before, he’d promised to go see his brother today and asked them not to let Cash know he was in town. He wasn’t sure why. Did he think Cash would refuse to open the door if he knew his long-lost brother waited on the other side? If he did, at least Jude could leave with a clear conscience. Or a slightly clearer one, anyway. That particular slate would likely never feel as though it was wiped completely clean.
Whatever his brother’s reaction, Jude had to face him, had to finally be the man his family had needed him to be for years. No more running. His legs shook as he forced himself to go up one step. Then another. By the time he reached the first landing and turned to go up the second set of stairs, sweat was trickling down between his shoulder blades in spite of the coolness in the stairwell.
His stomach churning, Jude trudged up the second set of stairs, pulled open the door at the top, and started down the hallway. His brother’s apartment was halfway down on the right. Several of the doors held wreaths or signs but Cash’s was bare. Not surprising. Cash had always kept things sparse. His room, his life, his words.
The sound of a television drifted out beneath the door. Jude rapped three times and waited. The TV went silent before footsteps tromped across the floor. The sweat on his back dried as chills swept over Jude. The door opened and his brother, broader across the shoulders and taller than Jude by an inch or two, stood framed in the doorway. Had the guy pretty much lived at the gym the last five years?
Like his mother and sister had, his brother simply stared at Jude for several agonizing seconds. Then he crossed his arms over his massive chest. “So.”
Jude swallowed. “So.”
“Any idea how much I want to shove a fist down your throat right now?”