Curling my fingers into his hair, I pull his mouth to mine.
He wraps his arm around my waist. His other hand slides up my back. And as we sink against the settee, I think my heart might explode. But then my phone vibrates in my pocket and Jude stops. He pulls back, his eyes cloudy with desire.They hold mine for a moment, then he turns away and sets his elbows on his knees.
The message is from Harper.
A group text to me, Naomi, and Twig.
School just posted on Insta. Vigil for Ivy tonight at 7 on the football field. Sounds like everyone’s going?? We didn’t know her that well but ugh this whole thing feels awful.
I give my throat a clear, my skin still flushed. “There’s going to be a candlelight vigil tonight for Ivy.”
“I can’t go,” he says, scrubbing his hand down his face. “My grandfather’s in the hospital.”
“Your grandfather?” My brow furrows. Jude’s grandfather is dead. His death is the whole reason Jude came here in the first place, the last surviving heir of the Vandenberg family. Sole recipient of this sprawling estate. “But I thought?—”
“My mother’s father,” he clarifies.
“Oh.” I blink several times, trying to process this information. Jude has never mentioned family on his mother’s side before.
“He doesn’t have any other family but me, andit sounds like he’s reaching the end. I know the timing is horrible, but I really should visit him.” His voice is hollow, devoid of emotion. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling any.
“Where does he live?” I ask.
“Seattle.”
“Washington?”
“I’m heading out this afternoon.”
A selfish piece of me objects. He just got back and now he’s leaving again, to Washington? But I squash the whiny protest. Of course he should go. It’s his grandfather. “I’m sorry he’s sick.”
“We aren’t very close.”
“I’m still sorry,” I say, setting my hand on his back.
Jude sets his chin in his hand, then he turns to look at me. The shadows beneath his eyes resemble faint bruises. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. A few days, give or take. But can you promise me something before I go?”
“Of course.”
“If anything happens—if Rafe makes another appearance or you find a second glowing seed—let me know right away?”
“Sure.”
“Selah.”
I take his hand. “I’ll let you know. I promise.”
It’s a lie, though.
Jude’s grandfather is sick in the hospital. I don’t care if Ivy herself walks into AP Lit tomorrow with Rafe by her side, I’m not going to interrupt the little time he has with his last remaining relative.
13
BY CANDLELIGHT
By 7 p.m., the flurries have stopped. The night is dark. Cold has settled. Dad and I walk to the front gate of the high school stadium, where Kate and Brynn, president and vice president of student council, hand out white votive candles in clear plastic cups.
Kate gives us a watery smile. “Spence is already here, with Naomi and Harper. My parents are, too,” she says to Dad. “Mom’s helping with everything, so I’m sure Dad is looking for some company.”
