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)
I’m not sure it’s acceptable to swoon in a graveyard, but here I am swooning in a graveyard. And I know, right in this moment, I’m looking at Jude like I adore him. Because I do. I can deal with his . . . quirks. And maybe now, after years of grief and no direction, only Arlington Hall to keep him going, he sees a future.
With me.
I cannot believe I’m thinking this. I’ve been well and truly swept off my feet, and it isn’t just all-out crazy chemistry that’s blindsided me. It’s Jude Harrison in his entirety. Including his vulnerabilities. Including his quirks.
I reach for his wide shoulders and pull him into my seated body, and he drops to his knees between my legs. “I really fucking do too.”
He holds me tightly, and it feels so poignant. I wasn’t prepared for him. He wasn’t prepared for me. “Promise me you’ll always listen to me when I talk,” he whispers. “See me when I’m in front of you. Take my hand when I give it to you.”
I pull out of his hold with some effort, finding his face. I hate the despondency I see. “What’s wrong?” I ask, holding his cheeks.
“You overwhelm me.”
I want to laugh. Don’t.
“Promise me,” he demands.
My forehead furrows, wondering why this is so important to him, thinking perhaps it’s connected to his parents. “I promise.”
He nods. “Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.”
“Can I ask you something?” I immediately bite down on my lip, wondering if I’m making a monumental mistake.
“I don’t know.” He leans back, his expression questioning. “The look on your face tells me you don’t want to ask, so I’m a bit nervous about what you’re going to say.”
I smile. It’s small and guilty. “I found the antidepressants in your bathroom cupboard.” I blurt it all out quickly and hold my breath, watching with unease as his eyes slowly widen. And darken. They definitely darken.
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for eye drops because it was the morning after the night I got a bit drunk and you wanted me to meet Casey.”
“You were more than a bit drunk.”
I shrug. “You were depressed.”
“Apparently.”
My recoil is unstoppable. “That sounds like you don’t think you were.”
“I don’t know what I was.”
“Well, did they help? The pills, I mean.”
“Yes, they helped.” He tilts his head at me when I squint. “What?”
“You don’t take them anymore?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if you should.”
It’s Jude’s turn to recoil. “I’m not depressed. Do you think I’m depressed?”
“Maybe more angry than depressed.”
“You think I’m angry?”
“You don’t?” I didn’t mean to sound astounded.
“I assume you’re talking about the occasions when—”
“You had my brother by the throat, a member of staff thrust up against a wall, a colleague of mine on the floor after you booted his chair out from under him? Yes. Yes, I’m talking about those occasions.” And more.
His eyes narrow, unimpressed. “Isn’t a man allowed to be pissy if another man tries to come on to his woman?”
I laugh, leaning forward, getting my nose close to his. “Only one of those men was trying to come on to me. The other two were innocent bystanders.”
“So I act first, think later.”
“And your dad,” I continue, taking this opportunity and running with it. “Rhys is right. Every time he’s mentioned, I see something change in you.” Chewing his lip, Jude studies me closely as I watch his irises change colour before my eyes. “Like now. Your eyes change colour when you’re angry.”
He blinks, as if he can change that. “My eyes?”
“Yes, they’re darker when something’s bothering you. Bluer.”
“What colour are they when I’m horny for you?” he whispers, coaxing my mouth open, combing his fingers through my hair and gripping.
“Greener,” I mumble around his kiss.
“You make me less angry.” His tongue circles mine so slowly and delicately, his head tilting and turning to go deeper.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, baby, trust me, I’m sure.”
I retreat slowly, holding his wrist. “Don’t be angry,” I whisper, feeling at his face, my eyes searching his.
“I just need to forgive him for dying,” he says quietly. Because if his dad hadn’t died, neither would’ve his mother. And that explains his anger perfectly. Doesn’t it? “I’m getting there. And that’s all down to you, Amelia.”
And he’s shown me I can have it all. Love and a career. “I love you,” I whisper, feeling at his rough cheeks.
“I’m grateful.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”
Jude nods, taking a deep breath, looking up to the sky. “We’d better move.” Getting to his feet, he pulls me up, and I glance up too, seeing a huge black cloud rolling above us. The sun disappears behind it, dimming the light. “Come on,” he says, putting the glasses and bottle back by the graveside and reclaiming me, just as the cloud seems to burst directly above us, pounding us with bullets of rain.