Page 99 of Requiem
“Only if you’re comfortable with that,” I add.
“…Okay,” he says finally.
The first snowflake lands on the back of his hand, where I’m holding him, melting instantly.
***
Jude is quiet at dinner, even when people address him. His answers are short, and his gaze remains on his plate of salmon and roasted asparagus. He barely eats, seemingly withdrawing into himself after what happened earlier.
Adela doesn’t even make a joke about him barely touching her food, because she can tell he’s spiraling a little bit. This is coming from the woman who nearly decapitated Micah for saying that her bread was too crunchy and was falling apart last week. Now, she just glances at Jude with concern. Rafe mentioning that he is a liability with his trigger words definitely hit him hard, but it’s true…unfortunately.
As I’m putting our dishes into the dishwasher, I turn to Heather. “Jude is coming upstairs for a while. But he’s still planning on sleeping in the basement.”
Her brows draw together. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be alone with him?”
I chew my lip, really thinking it over. “Yes. I know he won’t hurt me. He’s still in there, and I’m confident that he’s stable enough to be with me.” I pause. “Well, without the trigger words, anyway.”
She pulls me in for a hug, her embrace warm and smelling like laundry. “If you need us, our room is right next to yours. Shout or something. I love you.”
I squeeze her. “I love you, too, Heather.” And when we part, I find Jude’s gaze already on us.
***
“You don’t have to stay here for long,” I say as we enter the bedroom.
He nods, still withdrawn. He has his last dose of the day of Suboxone under his tongue, so I don’t expect him to talk much for a few minutes while it dissolves.
I walk over to the dresser, taking out my baggy sleep tee and shorts. I turn to him. “Want me to go get your sweatpants?”
He shakes his head, moving to sit on the bed.
“Okay.” I strip out of my clothes and step into my pajamas, his eyes silently tracking every moment.
And by the time I slide into bed beside him, he’s looking at my face.
“How are you doing?” I ask, covering myself with the comforter.
He hesitates, but finally tears his gaze away. “Better, when it comes to looking at you. I don’t feel that…anger I felt before.”
Hope flares in my chest. “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “I guess so.”
A few beats pass, and I wonder if asking him to come up was a mistake. “Do you just want to go to bed? It’s been a long day.”
That seems to set him more alert, his head turning sideways toward me, even if he’s looking at my hands in my lap. “No, it’s okay. I wantto be with you. I want…” he trails off, wetting his lips. “I want to tell you everything that happened.”
“You don’t need to,” I say softly.
“I know.” He finally looks into my eyes again. “But I lied to you for so long. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to hide anything from you ever again.” He swallows. “Even if it hurts.”
My chest tightens a little at that. “Well, is there something you want to share with me?”
He doesn’t answer right away. But his eyes are softening in the way they do when you’re about to cry. “If I’m being honest with you, Emma, I don’t know how I’ll survive this.”
My stomach drops. “What do you mean, Jude? We got you out.”
“I know,” he whispers. “But I…I don’t know if I’ll be able to move on after what I’ve done. I’ve killed people who very likely didn’t deserve to die. I’ve been used as a fucking attack dog for so long that I feel…almost directionless right now. I don’t know how to live without being told how to.”
