There You Stand

by Christina Lee

  That completely threw me for a loop. My fingers squeezed the handlebar until my knuckles was colorless. In his own way, Jude was telling me that he cared. He had already given pieces of himself to me and I wanted to keep them safe. Keep him safe. But he wasn’t allowing me to do that, and that left me unsettled and confused.

  I stared at him, unsure of what to say at this point. I didn’t even know where we stood.

  “Am I holding you up?” he asked, motioning to the road. “Where are you off to?”

  “I was just going for a long ride. To try and clear my head.”

  “Want some company?” he asked, his eyes soft and hopeful.

  He was reaching out to me and that gesture was hard to resist. “Sure.”

  He breathed out in relief. “Give me a few minutes to drop these home, wash up, and pull out my bike.”

  “I’ll give you a ten-minute head start.”

  I watched him walk across the street to head toward home. Then I parked my bike near the kayak launch and strolled toward the water. I heard a motorcycle engine in the distance and looked up, wondering where it was coming from.

  Jude’s words about protection from the club echoed back at me and I decided right then and there that if Jude couldn’t share anything with me than I couldn’t give him anything more than my friendship. That added extra weight to my chest, but I needed to show myself that respect.

  I took a few more minutes to stare at the water’s edge and then hopped on my bike to head to Jude’s. As I rolled up his driveway, a curtain swung back in place when I passed his neighbor’s house. I wondered if his landlord watched out for him, too. Vaughn’s words echoed back at me that Jude was finally safe.

  Jude was wheeling his bike from the garage. He had slipped into a pair of jeans and black motorcycle boots and damn, he looked good. He grabbed for his helmet and snapped it under his chin.

  “Do you like to fish?”

  My neck snapped back and I remained silent while I thought about it. I’d only been fishing a couple of times and I kind of hated it. The waiting, the silence, the stillness.

  “Too quiet for you?”

  “Smartass,” I said, but he didn’t laugh.

  “I was being serious.”

  “Think you got me figured out?”

  “I hope so,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t have you figured out at all,” I said, terser than I’d intended. But it was like all of my emotions these past few days were coming to a head. “In fact, the more time I spend with you the more questions I have.”

  His face fell and his eyes darted to the ground. “I know.”

  There was a long silence between us.

  “You frightened of me, Cory?” he mumbled.

  “No,” I said and his shoulders unwound. “But my heart is.”

  He sank down on his bike and before he started the motor, he said, “My heart is afraid, too.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded in understanding.

  We didn’t discuss where we were going, just headed back toward the freeway and out of town.

  It felt good to ride next to him, the wind at my back. Liberating. Unencumbered. Whereas one time, I balked at the idea of sharing this experience with anybody because it reminded me of David, now I welcomed it.

  Because no matter how crazy and jumbled Jude made me feel, being in his presence also rooted me. And that was confusing. And complicated.

  Being on the open road brought a different kind of quiet that I’d been avoiding the last couple of years because there were too many memories.

  You needed to remain alert in traffic and there was always something to look at—a slideshow of scenery and people.

  I’d take this over fishing any day, where you had to sit or stand in one spot for hours. Just waiting for something to happen.

  We rode the back streets for a long time, passing by farms and fields before reluctantly turning around to head back home.

  “Looks like a possible storm,” I shouted to him at stop sign on a deserted road. My head was rolled back, staring at the sky, and I had spotted some dark clouds in the distance.

  “Rain bothers you, true or false?” he said.

  I bit my lip and nodded. Then sped off ahead.

  It felt amazing being with Jude. Even though there was no way to talk easily on this kind of ride, I was sharing something with him in a different way and got to know him better in the process.

  He was a bit of a daredevil on the road, similar to how he was on his skateboard. When there was no traffic in sight, he’d gun the engine down the lane, riding in the middle of the road, giving me a heart attack when I’d see a dip or a bend up ahead.

  Whereas I was extremely cautious since David’s accident, Jude took chances. I had to wonder if this was his outlet, his release, since he had to hold it together in public all the time.

  I’ll admit I was sometimes tense when I rode with David, but for a different reason. His recklessness had been internal. Kind of like Dex’s. Neither of them knew how to hold their alcohol well. I hadn’t seen Jude under the influence even once and I was going to guess it was because he had to remain alert and in control at all times.

  A couple of exits before our own, Jude motioned for me to pull off the freeway. I followed him into town, where he turned down a side street and then pulled into an empty lot. When I sidled next to him, he pointed. “See that ramp?”

  I looked ahead and saw a concrete loop and barrier.

  “This is where the games are going to be held.”

  I spotted trucks and trailers, a Bobcat and a crane, and realized that plenty of construction had to happen in order to set up an event like this.

  “You excited to see the show?”

  At first there was wariness in his eyes that I didn’t understand. But it changed over to enthusiasm as he nodded.

  “What part of you is on edge about it?”

  His forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “I can see it in your eyes,” I said. “There’s something that concerns you about this event.”

  His mouth quirked up. “Guess you know me better than you say you do.”

  I shrugged. “Recently I’ve had lots of practice reading your expression instead of listening to your words.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, holding my gaze. “I kind of like that you know me, because nobody else does. Not anymore.”

  My heart hammered in my chest and I fought to keep my emotions in check. Nothing had changed between us. He was still holding back.

  “You going to answer my question?”

  “Does rain bother you because of the accident?” he asked, turning a question back on me.

  I gritted my teeth and hesitated in responding. “Mostly, yeah. Makes me feel uneasy.”

  He stared at me a long moment and nodded. Then his gaze swung to the construction site. “They’ll probably build the stands over there.”

  At first I was confused by the change in topic but then I finally put it together. “You’re afraid of the crowd?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “The people who might be in the crowd?”

  He moved his head up and down.

  “Because you’re supposed to be in hiding?”

  He took the longest time answering and when he did it was as if he was giving me the last pieces of himself. There was a noticeable shift in the energy between us. “Yeah.”

  His expression was guarded again as he waited on my reaction.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to control the storm brewing inside of me. “So why are you going?”

  “It’s something that I’d enjoy. Alex says I have to live my life.”

  My stomach throbbed at the mention of a guy’s name. “Alex?”

  “The man you saw me at the park with that one day?”

  “The man I figured was your parole officer?”

  “Is that what you thought?” he asked looking thoughtful. “Makes sense I guess.”

  “So he’s not?” M
y heart was in my throat waiting to hear who this anonymous man was to him. How he figured into his mysterious life.

  “No,” he said. “He’s a federal marshal.”

  My hands clenched my thighs as my world spun out of control. It was no longer a world that I was familiar with. The scenery had changed on me in the blink of an eye.

  “Are you a fugitive?” I asked, fear spiking inside of me.

  No, that didn’t make sense. He would’ve been locked up if that were the case.

  “I guess in a way I am,” he said and my eyebrows rose. “Witness protection.”

  I took loud panting breaths as I placed it all together in my head. He was on the run from his stepfather, who had killed his mother and maybe wanted to kill him, too. Or maybe Jude knew too much information about him, confessed, and had to go into hiding.

  “I know you’ve got a bloody brilliant brain and have already figured it out,” he said. “Probably don’t need to spell anything out to you.”

  Still, some things didn’t add up. “Why the Disciples of the Road?”

  “Alex figures it’s the best way,” he said. “They have a beef with my stepdad. A long-ago dispute that involved my stepdad stealing guns from an affiliate motorcycle club. Guess they got proof and want nothing more to do with him. I stay close to the Disciples, I’m under their protection.”

  My mind was whirling like wheels on ice. When Jude told me earlier in the week his stepfather was ruthless, I wasn’t sure what that meant. Except it now fit with the rumors I’d heard about the Disciples. I felt like I was in some crazy-ass movie involving criminals and it was now being played out in real life.

  “Why does Alex figure it’s time?”

  “It’s been years. My stepdad either hasn’t tried to find me or hasn’t been successful. He’s in hiding himself,” he said. “Alex knows skating is in my blood, figures if I wasn’t under federal protection, I’d have gone pro by now. So he told me to go see the show.”

  “Man, Jude, this is all so . . . fucked up.”

  “I understand if you want to walk away right now. In fact maybe you should,” he said, sadness in his eyes. “Anything we do would have to be on the down low and I’m not sure you’re that kind of guy. And I’d always be concerned about your safety.”

  “Does the club know about us?”

  “They don’t ask but I think they have it figured out,” he said. “I don’t think Malachi likes the idea of having a queer under his protection. But he also might think that we’re just screwing around and that it’ll run its course.”

  “Little do they know we haven’t even done that yet,” I said.

  He hesitated. “Do you want to do that with me?”

  “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  “Goddamn it, Cory,” he groaned. “It’s hard enough staying away from you.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, adjusting myself on my seat.

  We stared at each other for a minute more, desire blazing in his eyes, while I put extra pieces and parts together in my mind.

  “Have you been with both men and women?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But I’ve always preferred men.”

  “Did your stepfather know that?”

  He nodded. “He used it to his advantage. Cory, I’ve done some illegal things under his control. Mostly as a minor. He was . . . very persuasive.”

  Fuck, his scars. I wasn’t sure I could handle hearing about any more of it. Besides, I knew deep in my gut that Jude was a good person. “I think I understand.”

  He swallowed visibly as if relieved.

  “Who was the boyfriend you mentioned that you’d been in love with?”

  “Figured all that out yourself did you?” he said. “Ah hell. Listen, it was rough going there for a while before my mum was murdered . . .”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The guy I thought I was in love with? His name was Mateo,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I fell for him—or at least I thought I did—but he was just manipulating me so he could persuade me to do more of my stepfather’s dirty work. Mostly carrying packages or being a lookout when they were running guns.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my heart squeezing. Now I understood why he was afraid to kiss me. He had paid a heavy price for wanting intimacy.

  “Shit, Jude,” I said. “I’m not manipulating you. My feelings are real. Do you get that?”

  “I believe you,” he said. “But I live in a different world where everybody gets what they want. Even the club. I’m just a pawn. And pawns and the people around them are dispensable. Do you understand?”

  My throat closed up. “I get it now.”

  “I’m sorry that you’re mixed up in all of this.”

  “You’re only human, Jude,” I said. “You have needs just like anybody else.”

  “I’ve tried staying away from you,” he said. “But all I could fantasize about is being with you. Allowing myself to have you for just one night.”

  “Then let’s have one night.”

  He stared deeply into my eyes and my heart went liquid.

  “My mum would’ve liked you,” he whispered.

  I smiled wishing we could have met under normal circumstances. Wishing that with all my fucking might. “What was your mom’s name?”

  “Maya,” he said.

  I lifted the corner of my lip in a sad little smile. “Your sister?”

  “Judith.”

  And then everything spliced together for me, like a vivid and concentrated thunderclap of lightning.

  “Jude York isn’t your real name, is it?”

  He thinned his lips and closed his eyes.

  Then he revved his engine and gunned it out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I followed behind Jude’s bike, my mind reeling. Of course you had to change your name when you went into witness protection. But Jude York had fit him so well, I couldn’t imagine calling him anything else.

  Before I knew it we were already back on Clifton Street. When Jude stopped at a red light near the marina, I pulled up next to him to say good-bye before we parted ways. I had plenty to think about and I wanted him to know that I appreciated the effort he made to allow me a glimpse inside. To offer me the parts of himself he’d kept hidden.

  “You like walleye?” he said, before I could get a word out.

  I knew it was walleye season on the lake so I could only imagine that’s what he had caught earlier.

  “Only had it once or twice,” I said. “Can be pricey in restaurants.”

  “I’d love to cook for you,” he said. “Haven’t done that for anybody in a bloody long time.”

  My pulse galloped in my veins. “I’d like that.”

  “Drive around the block a few times, then pull in and park on the side of the garage.”

  I drove straight through the light while he turned left. I could’ve just gone home. I could’ve just said fuck it, that I didn’t want any part of this. But I couldn’t deny the enormous draw I felt toward him. I wanted to be with him. Any way I could get him and for any amount of time.

  I thought about the way Jude had said he wanted me for one night. Maybe that was the only thing I could offer him. Deep down I desperately wanted a night with him, too. So badly I could taste it.

  I rode around for a good ten minutes before my bike found its way to Jude’s street as if it had a mind of its own.

  When I pulled in back, Jude motioned for me to park inside the garage instead. Now my bike was completely concealed by the automatic door, which he had closed as soon as I had emerged from behind it.

  As he held open the screen door, his gaze darted to the owner’s house up front as if we were being watched. “Is your landlord in on it, too?”

  “They watch out for me, yeah.”

  I looked behind me to their ornate back door. “They affiliated with the club, too?”

  “Used to be,” he said. “C’mon inside.”
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  “I don’t get it,” I said stepping to his entryway. “What’s in it for the Disciples?”

  “It’s a favor,” he said. “They’re trying to clean up old wrongs.”

  “And the federal marshal will look the other way on some things?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Look, Cory, I invited you here because I am dying to spend time with you. But if you want to walk out this door right now I would completely understand. The choice is yours. Always.”

  “I want to be here, Jude.” His fabricated name easily rolled off my tongue.

  He blew out a breath. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll grab you a beer.”

  I looked around at the same worn brown couch and realized that for all the weeks I’d come to know Jude, we’d never done this—invited each other to hang out at our homes just for the enjoyment of it. Not because we never had the opportunity, but because Jude was always pushing me away.

  It felt comfortable being here with him. But after all was said and done, it was sure to wreck me. Still, it would never destroy me completely. I’d already been shattered by the death of my first love. So the only thing I had to offer Jude was my patched-up heart that was sewn in jagged slivers.

  Jude had his own misery, his own heartache, anyway. His scars were like stitches and seams that held all of that darkness inside of him.

  I sat down on the couch, the same one I had been lying on the last time I was here with a busted-up foot.

  “How has your back been feeling?” Jude asked, handing me a beer.

  “Pretty good actually,” I said. “Thanks to you.”

  “My mum used to say that aches and pains were physical manifestations of inner grief.”

  “She sounds like Jessie,” I said, grinning because he’d shared even more with me. “I’m pretty sure that’s why she wants me to make an appointment at her mother’s holistic center.”

  “Perhaps there’s something to it?”

  I nodded. “Do your scars still hurt?”

  “No. I made my peace with them a couple years ago.” I realized that Jude had an amazing inner strength and that the way that I’d been dealing with my emotional pain was immature in comparison. Keeping late hours, pretending to be upbeat, and holding the quiet at bay did little to help heal my still-fresh wounds.