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“My mum used to say that aches and pains were physical manifestations of inner grief.”
“She sounds like Jessie,” I said, grinning because he’d shared even more with me. “I’m pretty sure that’s why she wants me to make an appointment at her mother’s holistic center.”
“Perhaps there’s something to it?”
I nodded. “Do your scars still hurt?”
“No. I made my peace with them a couple years ago.” I realized that Jude had an amazing inner strength and that the way that I’d been dealing with my emotional pain was immature in comparison. Keeping late hours, pretending to be upbeat, and holding the quiet at bay did little to help heal my still-fresh wounds.
“Pardon me,” he said, retreating from the room. “Let me get those filets under the broiler.”
“Do you cook for yourself often?” I raised my voice so he could hear me in the other room.
“I certainly try, yes,” he said. “My mum taught me. I’d often cook for her and my sister using eggs and milk from the farm. And nothing is as delicious as freshly caught fish.”
I took a peek into his kitchen and saw the filets unwrapped on the counter. “Did you scale the walleye yourself?”
“No. There’s a tent at the dock where they do it for you.”
I shrugged. “Never even noticed.” So that’s why there wasn’t a strong fish odor in his house. Thank God.
“Probably because you want nothing to do with fishing.”
“True,” I said, smiling. “But I’m not opposed to eating good food.”
I heard the oven door close and then Jude sat down next to me on the couch. We sipped our beers and though there was nervous energy between us, there was easiness there as well.
“I’d ask you for your real name,” I said, after tipping back my bottle. “But the one you have now suits you so well.”
“It’s my favorite of the bunch because it’s personal to me,” he said and my heart nearly stopped at that declaration. Just how many names had he had and places had he been? Did I even want to know? “I’ve never told anybody my real name. It would feel strange even saying it out loud. It seems like a life I lived so long ago.”
I felt my pulse spiking. Jude had been through so much in the last few years that I questioned whether any of this was real. I stood up, hoping I didn’t appear too unsteady on my feet. “Can I use your john?”
“First door on the left.”
I flipped on the light and locked myself inside. The first thing I noticed was that Jude was a tidy person. His sink wasn’t disgusting for a dude who lived on his own, and that made me smile. My heart was still beating erratically in my chest as I examined myself in the mirror.
My hair was tucked firmly beneath my knit cap and my pupils looked bloodshot because I hadn’t slept well these last few days. Jude’s most recent revelation had thrown me for a loop and suddenly I had to have a talk with myself about being here. I guess I pictured him in this same scenario in different cities across the country and wondered if spending time with me really meant the same thing to him that it did to me.
There was a light knock on the door. “You okay, Cory?”
That brought me right out of my head. He’d told me that this was different for him. That I was different. Deep down, I trusted that.
“Everything’s cool. Be right out.”
My eyes didn’t lie as they stared straight back at my reflection.
I wanted to be here. I couldn’t not be here.
Jude was setting a table for two when I returned from the bathroom. It was strange to see him so domesticated. I could get used to this. I immediately dismissed that thought.
“Can I help with anything?” I asked, my hip leaning against the counter.
“Nope, all set,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind that I made a simple salad to go with our walleye.”
“Perfect,” I said, eyeing the greens in a bowl in the center of the table. “I like to eat healthy.”
He regarded me closely as I sat down across from him. “Not surprised. You keep yourself pretty fit.”
I felt a blush creep up my face so I took a bite to distract myself. “This is amazing. Melts in your mouth.”
He lowered his head and blinked, evidently appreciating the compliment.
Once we finished eating, I helped clear the table, and we retreated once again to the living room.
“Want another beer?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He sat down next to me on the couch, his leg jiggling across his knee, his eyes avoiding my gaze. It was uncommon for him to have guests and I didn’t want him to feel any obligation to entertain me. Or be intimate with me.
Maybe I had overstayed my welcome.
“Listen Jude. I could be on my way—”
“It’s not that,” he said in a rush. “It’s just . . .”
His gaze darted to my lips and then down to my lap.
“Just say it,” I said. “No more secrets, we’ve said plenty tonight already.”
“I don’t . . .” He huffed out a breath. “I don’t want you to bugger off when you find out how inexperienced I might be.”
“What do you mean?” I said, my eyebrows slamming together. “I thought you said you’ve been with men before.”
“I . . . I have.”
“And that guy you fell for—”
