Page 90 of Requiem
Adela grins like a cat. “Yes, sir.”
***
The cabin fades behind us as Jude pulls out onto the main wooded road. His hands are firm on the wheel, his eyes scanning everything that moves outside the car.
Rafe is in the passenger seat beside him, completely unbothered.
“You’re tracking every movement outside the car,” I say softly.
Jude doesn’t look at me right away. His eyes stay forward, jaw tight. “I have to. I’m driving,” he says.
“Do you think it’s a good idea for you to drive?” I reply. “Rafe can takeover.”
“I’m fine,” he mutters. “I like this control.”
“Okay, just be careful.”
“Obviously,” he snaps, agitation leaking through.
Rafe sighs, leaning his head back. “This is already more emotional processing than I budgeted for this morning. I would like everyone to remember I did not consent to a group therapy grocery trip. So, get it together, Graves.”
Jude exhales through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. We take the back roads like Rafe suggested, long stretches of empty asphalt cutting through fields and trees. At first, Jude is rigid in it. Every passing shadow pulls his attention.
“You’re safe here,” I say quietly, watching him.
His grip on the wheel tightens again. “Don’t start analyzing me right now. I am fine.”
“I’m not analyzing you,” I say, suddenly feeling like I am. “I’m—I’m talking to you. And, I guess, observing…”
He glances back in the rearview mirror. And I feel the annoyance creeping in.
Rafe, completely deadpan, finally speaks. “If you two keep emotionally cross-examining each other while he’s driving, I’m going to suggest something.”
Jude sighs again, his eyes locking on mine through the mirror. It triggers goosebumps over my arms.
And then I narrow my eyes. “Jude, if you keep looking back at me, you’re going to crash and kill us.”
His eyes flick to mine in the mirror again anyway. That pause between us changes temperature. His voice drops. “Then stop tempting my control, Emma. Or I swear to god I’ll pull this fucking car over and show you exactly what happens when I lose it.”
I snap my mouth shut, because he doesn’t exactly sound like he’s threatening me. He sounds like he’s warning himself. But still, who the hell is this Jude? And why did that make my stomach do a little flip?
Rafe lifts a hand. “Just so we’re all aligned on expectations, I do believe this is the point where I suggest you either resolve this tension or, dear therapist, can further explain how this shit is with you, Jude.”
Jude shakes his head, taking a turn that the GPS is leading us.
I lean forward, watching his profile. “Jude,” I say carefully, “How are you feeling?”
His eyes flick up in the mirror. “Agitaged. Overstimulated, maybe,” he says.
“Oh,” I respond. “That’s normal. But if you feel it getting worse, please let us know, yeah?”
He remains quiet.
Rafe glances over at me then, finally engaged. “So basically,” he says, “don’t let the murder instincts take the wheel.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I reply, and despite everything, a small breath of amusement slips out of me.
Jude doesn’t laugh, but his shoulders loosen. The road changes again, turning from paved highway into quieter country stretches, trees growing denser on either side.
