There You Stand

“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.”

“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.”