We left after making sure Lainey didn’t get in the water. She was stubborn about it, too. Belligerent even. Until finally, Jude convinced her to take a drive with Kate and Twig, who would get her home safely.
A lump has lodged itself in my throat, and I’m not even sure why. Because of Rafe, and his callous dismissal of Lainey’s safety? Because of the things I said to Rafe that I shouldn’t have? Because of his ominous threat before he sauntered away? I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay.
Jude slows to a stop in front of the carriage house.
I tug at the sleeves of my hoodie, then say in a rush at the same time as Jude, “I’m really sorry.”
We laugh a little nervously.
His hand comes off the wheel in a gesture for me to go first.
“I’m sorry for telling you that would be a fun time.” I twist my fingers in my lap. “It really wasn’t a fun time.”
“I’m sorry for my cousin’s behavior,” he says.
“You’re not responsible for Rafe’s behavior.”
“No, but I can still be sorry for it.”
“He’s such an awful person. A legitimately awful person. I didn’t think I was capable of hating anyone as much as I hate him, but I really hate him. I can’t believe he was going to just?—”
“Can we not talk about Rafe right now?”
Heat crawls up my neck.
Jude winds his hand around the back of his.
The lump returns. I’m pretty sure he’s annoyed with me, and I don’t blame him. I’m letting Rafe live rent free in my head, which is—I’m sure—exactly what Rafe wants. And the last thing I want is to give Rafe Vandenberg anything he wants.
“Will you go to the ball with me?”
My thoughts short-circuit.
I glance at Jude, positive I heard him wrong. “What’s that?”
He smiles a half-smile full of self-deprecation, and my insides turn to putty. “I wanted to know if you’d go to the masquerade ball with me.”
“I usually go with Twig.”
“Oh,” he says.
“I don’t mean—I was just—commenting. Thinking out loud. Iusuallygo with Twig. But thatdoesn’t mean Ihaveto go with Twig. I would feel a little bad about ditching him, but I?—”
“It’s okay, Selah,” he says. “You can go with Twig.”
“I don’t want to go with Twig.”
He blinks at me, confused.
I’m being very confusing.
“Can we try this again?” I ask.
His half-smile returns. He bites it back. Tucks it in one corner, where one of his dimples makes a faint appearance. With a dramatic breath, he shifts in his seat so he’s facing me, and I swear, I fall in love with him for playing along. “Selah Whitlock, would you grant me the immense honor of escorting you to the Hunter’s Moon Masquerade Ball?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes narrow roguishly.
