Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“So, congratulations,” Casey says, laughing under his breath. Jude rolls his eyes with effort.
“I just need to make a few calls.” I hold up my phone. “Will you stay with him until I’m back?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Casey says, making Jude tilt his head a little. “I’ve taken some leave.”
“Me too,” Rhys pipes in. “We can help look after you.” He drags his gaze across Jude’s broken body. “Jesus, Jude, how fucking fast were you going in that damn car?”
Fast. Because he was chasing me. I shy away from Jude’s eyes when he looks at me, slipping out of the room, guilt crippling me. Why didn’t I just stop?
I put myself on a chair in the corridor and text the girls before I check in with my parents. “He’s come round.”
“Oh, thank God,” Dad breathes. “Jenn! Jude’s awake.”
Clark’s suddenly on the other end of the phone. “Amelia?”
“Hey.”
“Fuck, you sound knackered.”
I pull a hand through my hair. It desperately needs washing. “I am.”
“How’s he doing?”
“They’ve removed the tube from his throat. He’s struggling to talk.”
“So it’ll be a while until he can repay me for the black eye I gave him.”
I laugh lightly. “Probably. Have you told Mum and Dad you’re expecting yet?”
“I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Why?”
“Well, what with Jude and—”
“Tell them,” I order. “It’s great news. And, Lord knows, we all need something to smile about.” My phone beeps an incoming call, and I pull it away from my ear, seeing who’s calling. “Listen, I have to go. Jude’s going to be fine. Go tell them about the baby. I’ll call later, okay?” I hang up and take a few moments to myself. I’ve been ignoring Gary’s calls, unable to talk to anyone, really. I’m ready. “Hi.”
“Amelia,” he breathes. “You’ve quit?”
“Resigned,” I say. “I can’t work with people like Leighton Steers, Gary. He’s too cutthroat for me.” I don’t need to put myself up for that kind of competition. It wasn’t about work anymore.
“Jesus, Amelia. Leighton’s been suspended with immediate effect.”
“What? Why?”
“He was sleeping with Tilda Spector.”
I laugh. “I had an inkling. God, I thought she was smart.”
“You knew? You had an inkling and didn’t say anything?”
“I was too busy sleeping with Mr. Harrison,” I quip, and Gary laughs lightly.
“Come back, Amelia. The partnership’s yours for the taking.”
I stare at the door into Jude’s room, taking a breath, bracing myself to say something I never dreamed I would. “I’ve got something more important to do, Gary.” My voice is surprisingly strong as I stand, smiling to myself. “So thank you, but no thank you.” I cut the call and push my way back into Jude’s room, finding his brothers both huddled around the bed, crowding him. I know he’ll hate that.
They look up when the door closes, their laughter fading. “I think he needs some rest,” I say, smiling when their eyebrows rise. “You’re a lot.”
They both laugh. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day,” Casey says, coming to me and kissing my cheek. “Thank you. We can stop worrying about him now.”
I let them both at me, accepting it, because Jude’s not being stifled anymore. “Thank you for coming.”
“You should’ve called sooner,” Rhys says. “That’s not to guilt-trip you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where I was, what I was doing. And then I didn’t have your numbers.” I eventually had Anouska call Rhys’s club; it was the only way I knew how to get hold of one of them.
“It’s fine.” Rhys hooks an arm around my neck and hauls me into him. “We’re here now. Just call if you need us.”
“Thanks.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Casey says, and they both leave, but not before giving their brother a little bit more fuss and a hug each.
I go to Jude once the door closes behind them, sitting on the edge of the bed. He lifts a hand for me to take. Squeezes a little. His eyes speak to me.
“I love you more,” I say, lowering and kissing his dry lips. He frowns at the bandage on my other hand. “It was infected. The antibiotics are working already. Are you hungry?”
“No.” His voice doesn’t quite sound like his. “I’m . . . s . . . orry.”
“Stop it.”
“I should . . . have—”
I put my finger over his lips, tilting my head in warning. I can’t even begin to imagine the burden of his secrets. How much pain he’s suffered. No more pain. I look down his body and wince.
“Can you let it go?” I ask. “The anger you have for your father, can you let it go?” Because that’s the root of his hurt. That his dad bailed on life—bailed on his family—because he couldn’t face being anything less than the hero his wife and sons made him. Nick’s inconsequential now. He doesn’t matter. But Jude’s peace with his dead father does matter.