I found Janey in the kitchen. “Jude needs a fan.”
“Who?” She glared at me.
“Mr. Jude needs a fan.”
“Brooklyn, I have told you over and over that you are to address him as Mr. Carlisle. And before you say anything, I can call him Mr. Jude because I am not a maid.” She sniffed.
I dug my nails into my palm, ready to explode. I had been up all night at the hospital because of Mr. Carlisle, had been awoken after just a few measly hours rest on a settee by Mr. Carlisle, and now I was being bothered about how I was addressing Mr. Carlisle. I was ready to scream.
“Janey, please help me find a fan for Mr. Carlisle,” I said hotly.
She grinned. “There are fans in the garden shed,” she said, turning back to an inventory spreadsheet on the counter.
Finally, a stroke of luck. I had been wondering what excuse I could use to go out to the garden to get my phone. There weren’t many reasons to go out there in January, and waiting for Janey to leave her post was a waste of time. If she did leave to check on the work of one of the maids, her eyes were everywhere. That much I knew for certain.
I went outside and hurriedly hugged the side of the house, ducking low, and grabbed the plant at the office window. My phone was still just as I had left it, although it was freezing cold. I pulled it out, rearranged the dirt and plant, and put it back where it was, sliding my phone into my waistband.
Finally, a stroke of luck.
I didn’t waste any time digging out the handheld fans from the shed and returning inside. But before going back into Jude’s room, I plugged my phone into its charger in my room.
“God, you’re slow today,” Jude said when I reentered.
“Apologies, sir,” I said and stood next to him. “Is this all right?” I asked, flapping the fan at him as hard as I could. I knew I probably looked ridiculous, but it felt good to vent out some frustration, even if it was through a stupid bamboo fan.
“That’s perfect.” He smirked, probably knowing I would tire myself out quickly. He closed his eyes and settled in for a nap. As soon as I heard his breathing slow, I stopped fanning. I waited a few seconds more to make sure he was truly out before walking to his desk and sitting down.
Based on the doctor’s instructions, he would need to take a pill when he woke up and three more before going to bed for the evening.
His desk chair was so comfortable. I skootched around in the seat, settling in some. Maybe I would close my eyes. Just for a second. It was warm and quiet, and the chair was right in the sunshine. I closed my eyes.
And for a brief moment, all was right with the world.
* * *
I woke up confused and sore for the second time in one day.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
His husky voice hit my ears, making my heart bubble with anticipation. What an amazing sound to wake up to. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, but the room was pitch black.
“Where—” I started, and then I realized. I jolted out of Jude’s desk chair and lurched for the light switch. When I flicked it on, we both moaned and cringed back like a couple of vampires.
“Turn the damn thing back off!” he hissed.
I quickly obliged, fumbling for the lamp on his wardrobe instead and finally getting that turned on. That was better.
“Way to go,” Jude said, pushing his hair out of his face and looking just as disoriented as I felt.
I cleared my throat. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been laying here too stiff to move in the complete dark since I woke up.”
“And you didn’t wake me up?” I opened his fridge to get him a drink of water ready and shook out his evening pills, referencing the list once more to be sure.
“Don’t flatter yourself, everyone thinks I need you, but I don’t,” he said, taking the pills.
I helped him ease up into a sitting position, guilt flooding me as I saw how difficult he was finding it to move. I shrugged off his comment easily enough, but I knew I could be replaced.
In fact, I was almost expecting it.
I sighed. “I’m so sorry, Jude. I can’t believe I stranded you in the dark and without your pills or even a glass of water, and—oh my God, you haven’t eaten anything today.”
He groaned. “Quit busting your own balls, Rosie. I woke up just two minutes before you did.”
I froze. He hadn’t called me Rosie since… before Merritt.
“Please don’t make me beg you for these pills!” He moaned, struggling even to reach for the glass. I tipped the water for him, and he drank gratefully. Holding the back of his head, I couldn’t resist one tiny, light stroke of his thick hair.
He took his pills, one after another, and I helped him lean back against the headboard.
I swallowed hard. “Hungry?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Well, you haven’t eaten anything today, and I don’t think those pills are good on an empty stomach. I’m going to go grab you something to eat.”
I took a look at the time when I got to the kitchen and was shocked to see that it was past two. In the afternoon. He and I had slept almost the whole day away. Thankfully, the kitchen was silent and empty.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been here alone. Like Jude, I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. But unlike Jude, I was ravenous.
I pulled out some cold cuts and slathered the cook’s homemade bread with thick layers of mustard. I pulled out a bowl of grapes and then two slices of chocolate cake, loaded up a tray without bothering to add silverware or placemats or even napkins, and returned to Jude. He was looking exhausted by the effort of sitting up but managed to brighten some at the sight of the tray. And when he licked his lips, I knew I’d done well.
“That looks good.”
I sat on his bed and put the tray between us. “Can you manage yourself?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I can feed myself, thank you.”
I pretended I didn’t notice him struggling to reach the plate at the end of the tray, and he pretended not to notice when I nudged the tray closer to him, so he didn’t have to reach. We ate in silence until the plates were clear of everything but the cake.
“This is amazing,” I said, my mouth full of rich chocolate and creamy icing.
He laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a girl eat cake. Margeaux and Lila wouldn’t touch that if you paid them a million dollars.”
I laughed, but then remembered. “Oh shit. Margeaux.”
I dumped the plate back onto the tray and sprinted to my room across the hall, grabbing my phone and returning to his room. It had charged fully while we slept, and when I powered it on, it almost exploded with all of my notifications. Not only had I missed about a thousand calls and messages from Margeaux, but there were my notifications from the days my phone had been in the planter as well.
I walked back into Jude’s room with a fully-charged phone, full of juicy details from the planter and a million messages from his fiancée.
“What is it?” Jude asked, digging into his cake. “What about Margeaux?”
I clicked away on my phone screen. “She made me promise to keep my phone close all day so I could update her on you.”
I didn’t bother looking up at Jude to see what kind of reaction he had. Mostly, because I was too busy figuring out how to diffuse this situation with Margeaux.
Because she really wasn’t happy.
1:15 PM
Make sure Jude eats well for lunch. He needs plenty of energy if he’s going to recover.
1:45 PM
I spoke with Jude’s doctor. He said it’s very important for Jude to be drinking plenty of water. Get him a pitcher and fill it with ice water and keep it next to his bed. Ensure it stays full.
2:00 PM
Dr. Pearce said he should be resting. Is he resting?
2:34 PM
Hello????
5:01 PM
HELLO!
7:00
PM
Has Jude taken his evening pills?
7:03 PM
Hello????
8:12 PM
I spoke with Lila, and she said you’ve been looking after Jude and unable to get to your phone. Tomorrow, do a better job of checking for my messages.
I took a deep breath.
“How many messages?” he asked around a mouthful of cake.
I snickered. “Too many to count.”
“Hand me my phone.”
I took it off its charger and handed it over. He laboriously began to type before giving up and handing it to me.
“It’ll be faster if you do it. Just say sorry, I was sleeping. Good night. And then add some flower emojis.”
I shot him a look overtop the screen and tried to bury the grin I felt rising against my cheeks.
“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and do it.”
I typed in the message and hit ‘send.’ “Done.”
I gathered up the dishes and stacked them on the dresser by the door. “Let me help you to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”
He looked between me and the bathroom door at the end of the room and grimaced.
“We’ll be able to tackle it.” I shot him a winning smile.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go then.”
I sat next to him and he put one arm around my shoulders. I pulled the two of us up slowly from the bed, trying to ignore how wonderful it felt to be so close to him again. We shuffled across the room, utilizing the furniture as handrails on the way until we got to the bathroom.
“Nice work!” I said.
He grunted. “Wait here.”
“No way. You could slip and hurt yourself.”
“Brooklyn. I have to pee. You are not coming inside that bathroom with me while I pee.”
I started to protest, but he cut me off.
“So help me God, Brooklyn!”
I threw up my hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, fine. But I’m waiting right here, and as soon as you are done, let me know, and you can lean on me while you brush your teeth.”
He closed the door in my face. I leaned close, listening as he shuffled to the toilet, went, and then shuffled back to the sink. I wanted to keep an ear out in case he fell, or had to catch himself on something. And once I determined he was doing just fine…
“Okay, Peeping Tom, come on in,” he said.
I pushed open the door and went quickly to his side, worried at how pale he looked. He leaned heavily against me as I got the toothpaste onto his toothbrush for him. He brushed and rinsed, then wiped his face down with a warm washcloth he had me prepare for him. Then, we were on our way back to the bed. He smelled so good, minty and clean and warm against my side. I got him back into bed and settled.
“Need anything else?” I asked breathlessly.
“No,” he said, his breath sounding short.
“Listen, I’m right across the hall if you need anything. Your mom is paying me for twenty-four-hour care, so don’t hesitate to call, text, or just shout, okay? Wouldn’t want to waste her money,” I said with a smile.
He smiled back weakly, and I headed for the door.
“Hey, Brooklyn.” I turned.
“Yes, Jude?”
I watched him swallow hard. It seemed as if he were debating on saying something before he shook his head softly. And it gave me pause, making me wonder what he had wanted to say before he spit something else out.
“Thank you. You know, for this. And other stuff.”
I nodded. “No thanks needed. I’m just glad you’re alive.”
“Right. Well… good night.”
“Good night,” I said, and flipped off the light.
Back in my room, I treated myself to a long, hot shower, and pulled on my comfiest flannel pajamas before getting ready for bed. Slipping between the cool white sheets was heavenly, as was the feel of a pillow behind my head instead of the back of a chair or the arm of a settee. I stretched luxuriously and sank into the down and cotton.
And was asleep in minutes.
* * *
I woke up suddenly. I sat up in bed and looked around. What had woken me up? It was still dark out, and when I checked my phone, I saw that it was a quarter to three. I waited, and then I heard it.
“No… no….”
A deep moan was coming from across the hall.
Jude.
I got out of bed and ran across to his room. He was sprawled on top of his blankets, one side trapped and tangled in his cast, chest heaving as he shook his head back and forth.
“Dad, no, please.” He moaned.
I went to his side, unsure of what to do.
“Dad, come back. Dad, don’t go!” His voice got louder.
“Jude,” I said softly, not wanting to startle him. “Jude, wake up.”
He shot one arm out and smacked the water glass on his end table. I was just barely able to snag it before it crashed onto the floor.
“She’s taking me to the basement! Not the basement. No, please. Mom, no!”
“Jude!” I shook him now, worried about him hurting himself. “Wake up, wake up.”
I gave him one firm shake, and he jolted awake all at once, trying to shoot forward to sit up, but I held one hand against his chest, keeping him lying flat. “I’m here, honey. I’m here, shh…”
I hushed, keeping my voice low. “Hush now, everything’s all right.”
His breathing began to slow. I reached out--hesitant at first and then confident--and brushed one hand across his forehead. He was sweating and hot. I rubbed my fingers through his hair in slow, gently brushes. And before long, he was back asleep.
I wasn’t sure he’d actually even woken up.
I sat there for a while, allowing my fingers to run through his hair. And as I ran down what he’d cried out in his sleep, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t want him to be alone during nightmares like this. But, I knew I couldn’t stay. With one last stroke of my fingers through his damp hair, I stood slowly and carefully untangled the nest of blankets he was in. And after smoothing them across his body and making sure all the ends were untucked in case he had another nightmare, I backed slowly towards his bedroom door.
In the moonlight, with those arresting eyes closed, he looked vulnerable. He looked less like the tough guy I had come to know and more like a frail little boy trapped in the body of an adult he didn’t want to be. After glancing at him for much too long and allowing him to tug at my heartstrings much too deeply, I walked back over to his bedside and dropped the smallest kiss at his hairline.
Then, I crept out. Hoping he would sleep through the rest of the night.
While the warmth of his skin haunted my lips.
18
Lila
She didn’t hear me open the door.
I had heard Jude yelling as well, but it had taken me longer to wake up. Jude and I both suffered with nightmares for so long that sometimes the sound of one of us yelling in the night just registered as normal. But, when I heard him yelling for Dad, it woke me from a dead sleep.
“Dad, come back. Dad, don’t go!”
The second I heard those words, I threw off my blankets and went to his door to wake him up. But when I opened it, Brooklyn was already there. Part of me wanted to shoo her out of the room and deal with the situation myself, especially given her history of talking way too much in papers she wrote for. But, something in the back of my head told me to ease back.
So, I did.
I stepped back into the shadows of the hallway and watched.
Ever since Margeaux had told me about her threat about Brooklyn to Jude, I had been curious. Curiouser still when it was Brooklyn at the hospital the night of Jude’s accident. I believed her when she said that they hadn’t been together, but how had she just randomly ended up being the first person on the scene?
I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but her tone was soft and soothing. Jude looked like a wreck: tang
led, and upset. But the instant she touched him, his whole body relaxed. I saw her lean down and kiss him, and for a moment, I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling.
And finally, I figured out that I was somehow jealous.
She touched him with such care, and even deeply asleep, trapped in the throes of a lifetime of nightmares, my brother felt it, and his worries eased. For all these years, I thought I’d been that person for him. Yet, I had evidence to the contrary. I also found myself jealous at the fact that he had a Brooklyn in his life. Someone who soothed him, and comforted him, even when he didn’t realize it.
What a treasure that must be to have in life.
I stepped back into the hallway, closing the door quietly and going back to my room before she could see me. And for the rest of the night, I struggled to sleep. What Margeaux and I had done had seemed like it was for the best for all of us. But, had I overlooked my brother?
Had I misinterpreted what was best for him?
19
Brooklyn
I was nervous to see Jude that morning. After the night we’d had, even before his nightmare, I felt like something had changed between us. I decided to poke my head in to say good morning before I grabbed him coffee and breakfast, and when I saw him sitting up, looking alert and awake, it gave me pause.
“Hey,” I said shyly.
“Hey,” he said, his smile sweet.
I walked in slightly. “So… last night.”
“Yeah,” he said.
I hung out, with both of us smiling at each other like fools for a minute before I decided to snap out of it. “Okay, how’s coffee sound?”
He nodded. “Perfect.”
I hummed to myself as I walked downstairs and stocked the tray, taking extra time to make it special for him. I asked the chef to make him french toast and made up a plate of topping choices to choose from. I brewed coffee in the press pot instead of the regular coffeemaker. When the french toast was ready, I grabbed a little vase and plucked a flower from the arrangement on the kitchen island.
BITTER PRINCE | A DARK COLLEGE BULLY ROMANCE: HEIRS OF HAVOC Page 8