“Yeah, Foxy?” He stops what he’s doing, giving me all of his attention.
“Is there a reason you have everyone’s location on your phone when they leave and stop somewhere?” I mean, there is a certain app out there that I refuse to give my brother and father, but this doesn’t have the same distinguishable look. Plus, the computer screens are clearly part of the people I met last night.
“Yep, everyone I care about is tracked. It’s an app I created, one that isn’t available to the public and never will be.” I swallow, hearing the conviction in his voice and wondering something else.
“Am I on that app, too?” I swallow a lump in the back of my throat. On one hand, I want to be one of the people he cares about, on the other, well, this goes way past an invasion of privacy.
“You’re one of the people I care about the most. So, yeah, you are.” His hand stops massaging the outside of my leg when he feels every muscle in my body tense. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself, and come up with a response that won’t turn into me losing my shit, stomping out of Jude’s house, and blocking him from my life. The words taste bitter bouncing around in my head. There’s no way I could do that,could I? Jude remains quiet, waiting me out, and I appreciate that more than he understands.
I close my eyes and bite my lower lip, remembering every good moment we’ve had together this far into our friendship/relationship. Nothing has been truly established, except for the fact that I met his whole group, guy wise. Lennie stayed true to her word and added me into the girls’ group chat, and I was welcomed with updates for the next meeting.
“I don’t know how to feel about this, Jude,” I admit, still at a loss for words. The questions I have probably should be asked, and see how he responds to them, if at all.
“I can understand that. I can also tell you that it’s not because I’m controlling or want to do anything with ill intent. I protect the people who are in my life. It’s ingrained in me, and one day, I’ll tell you about the reasoning behind it.” He doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done, and that’s what has me chewing on my bottom lip.
“How long?” I ask, attempting to stand from his lap. He doesn’t allow me to move. Jude’s hands become like a vice, holding me to him without managing to hurt me, which brokers another element. He’s never hurt me, not with his words, not physically, and even now I’m trying to figure out what this means to me.
“Since the beginning.” My eyes pop open. Shock mars my features when I look at him. The wince he sends my way tells me there’s more.
“What?” We didn’t exchange numbers until a couple of weeks after talking to each other. “Oh.” It hits me like a lightning bolt. Jude is a digital ninja, highly skilled, mastersplatforms and software, and is multi-skilled in his industry. He’s also sought after in a government official capacity.
“I’m not sorry, Foxy. I’d do it again without hesitation.”
“That means you knew what I looked like, where I worked, where I lived. You knew everything.” And I was left in the dark far longer.
“Not everything. Your digital footprint, yeah. Where you live, sure. But I can figure that out with a few searches online, much like anyone else. Same goes for your workplace and what you looked like. Social media makes it all too fucking easy.” He doesn’t tack on that my sites are wide open.
“I need some space to think.” His body goes rock solid, and it shouldn’t affect me as much as it does, but here it is, worry settling in my bones like a cold winter day.
“You take all the time in the world to think, Foxy. But you’re doing it here, with me.” He stands up, helping me do the same in the process. “I’ll cook breakfast in the meantime. I assume you’re working open and close tonight at The Social?” He positions us where we’re face to face, lifting my chin with his fingers, and when I nod, he does the same. A kiss is placed on my forehead before he disappears out the door of his office, leaving me with his computers and phone, all of which are unlocked.
17
JUDE
Irub my hand down my face when the need for another fucking cigarette hits me all at once. This morning, I woke up from another nightmare, catching myself before Ronnie could notice, or I thought I did. I slunk out of the bed, deactivated the alarm, and went out back. The two smokes a day I allow myself to have were demolished, one right after the other. I could have easily gone through the whole pack. The only thing stopping me was the person in my bed.
Now, I’m out here again, this time for a different reason entirely. The thought of walking inside and finding every bit of Ronnie and Ronnie herself gone from my life guts me. I’ve paced the length of the pool, moved to the yard, did some of the same while picking up a few branches that fell down. There’s still a shit ton of other stuff to do around in the yard—mowing, weeding, and pruning backsome plants. A problem for another day. I’ve been out here long enough that sweat is coating my temples and back.
It doesn’t matter how long you wait outside. Either she’s inside or not. Whatever decision she makes is hers,I tell myself. I also know I’ll go after her, beg, borrow, and steal to make Ronnie see that this is real and I’m not letting her go.
The moment I open the door to the house, the air conditioner cools my heated skin as my eyes scan the living room looking for Ronnie. The mess from last night is still evident on the floor, our clothes in different areas, the controller tossed on the couch, and my bottle of water sitting on the floor.
The growling of my stomach reminds me neither one of us has eaten, and while I’d had a meal in between dropping Ronnie off at the bar and coming back, who knows if she did. I move through the house, listening for any signs of movement, but don’t hear jack shit. A few more steps, and I’m in the kitchen, hitting the fridge to pull out everything to make bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. Ronnie prefers avocado on hers in lieu of mayo. I’ve learned a lot at the festival, especially her eating habits. The only thing I need to figure out is what to make for a side.
A quick look in the freezer has me finding home fries buried in the back. Those should be finished around the same time the bacon is done frying. I’ve still got my head inside, digging out the other shit that’s probably been sitting for too long, when I hear Ronnie’s voice.
“Jude?” She pauses for a moment, probably trying to figure out where I am. I grab the bag, close the door, and amabout to tell her I’m in the kitchen when she says, “There you are. I couldn’t find you. I swear I looked everywhere. The bedroom, the bathroom, the garage, even out back. I probably should have started here first.”
“Probably missed me if you went out the bedroom. I just came in from out back. You hungry?” I’m not pushing the conversation we only had thirty minutes ago. The last thing she needs is pressure of any kind.
“Can we talk first?” I drop the home fries with the other ingredients. The palms of my hands press down on the granite countertop, head hanging between my shoulders, and my breathing is ragged as fuck.
“Jude.” Her hand touches the middle of my back and moves in a soothing manner, and when I feel her lips on my skin, I’m finally able to take the first full breath since I woke up this morning. When her arm wraps around my waist, I hold her there with my hand.
“Foxy.” She spins around, coming between me and the counter. I watch and feel as her hands glide along my bare chest, one palm covering the tattoo carefully and the other sliding behind my neck. She is silently asking me to dip my head closer to hers.
“I’m not upset with you, and I’m not leaving. It took me aback, and I needed time to process.” The rasp of her voice does everything to me—my heart, my head, my dick. It has me in one hell of a tailspin.
