Seven

Seven

Jude

I wake the next morning to someone knocking softly on my door. I stagger out of bed and just like I did yesterday, I check out the window, expecting Rowan. Instead, it’s Max.

I pull back and glance around the room, trying to decide if I should let him in. Last night had been…intense. Being with him actually allowed me to get a decent night’s sleep.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and stand back to let him come in. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just wanted to bring you some coffee.” He says it with a shy little smile that kickstarts my heart.

I take the cup from him and try a sip. “It’s strong.”

“Yeah, you kind of looked the type.” He frowns. “Or maybe you’re not?”

“I drink it any way it comes,” I reply. Too many nights of insomnia haven’t let me be picky. I can’t count the number of gross hotel coffees I’ve consumed just to keep my eyes open enough to stay safe on the road.

Max closes the door and leans against it, his own coffee in hand.

“What’re you really doing here?” I ask. “I doubt you came by just to give me this. You want a round two or something?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says it so quickly that I almost miss it.

My skin heats. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just looked so upset last night when you first came into the bar. I felt like maybe… I was taking advantage of you when we hooked up.”

My mouth tries to pull into a smile at the innocence of that statement, but I push it away. “You’re sweet. But I think if anyone was taken advantage of, it was you. It’s been a long time since a guy’s let me fuck him that hard.”

He blushes and looks down at the lid on his coffee cup. “Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve met a guy who likes to control as much as you do.”

I study the pink of his cheeks. On some higher level, I know my crave for control stems from what happened with Grant. What he did to me made me feel so out of control of everything, even my own body. When I’m with a guy, I like to know he can’t do anything unless I’m all right with it.

But another part is that I like making guys feel good when we’re in bed together. But maybe that’s linked to Grant too. I like pleasing them. I’ll do pretty much anything they ask of me. As long as they ask.

Max likes it when I take over, so I’ll do it. But he could’ve also asked me to hit my knees and eat his ass out, and I’d have done it too. Maybe that’s fucked up.

Max clears his throat and meets my eyes. “I was hoping we could do it again soon.”

“Well, I’m not going to be in town for too long. Just the week.”

Max shrugs. “I’m not looking for commitment.”

“I’ve got a dinner tonight, but we could meet up afterward,” I say, trying not to let my dick get too stirred up at the thought of being inside Max again so soon.

“Yeah, all right. I’ll text you my address, if you’re okay with meeting there?”

“Yeah.” It’s got to be better than this place.

Max gives me another smile before reaching back to open the door. “Okay, well, I’ll see you.”

Once he’s gone, I take a few more sips of the coffee, then head to the bathroom for an ice-cold shower.

***

I try not to make it too obvious that I don’t want to be at the dinner. Anastasia cooked, and everything smells amazing, but I don’t necessarily want to be around my brothers. I haven’t spoken to Rowan since he came to talk to me at the hotel, and Dominic is still glaring at me. In-between making underhanded remarks.

More than once, I catch Brigid placing a hand on his thigh, like she’s telling him to cool down. But it seems to only last a few minutes each time. I wish he would just hit me and get it over with. But he wants so much to not be like Dad that he only hits when absolutely necessary. And he’s never laid a hand on me.

By the time we’ve actually sat down to eat, I’m ready to bolt out of here. But I stay because I said I would. And because Anastasia’s cooking tastes even better than it smells.

Unfortunately, it’s a little hard to enjoy because the tension pouring off Dominic is starting to feel thick enough to choke me.

I rest my fork on the side of my plate and meet his gaze. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

The forced conversation coming from the other three stops as they glance up at us.

“Guys, I really don’t think this is the place,” Rowan says.

“Dominic’s the one making it this place.” Yeah, that could’ve come out a lot more mature, but I wonder when Dominic will realize that I hate myself so much already, I don’t need him doing it too.

“Why didn’t you text or call to say you were coming?” Dominic asks, his voice level with anger burning underneath.

“Because I wasn’t even sure I was going to come here until the day I started the drive.”

“So you can come all the way here for a wedding, but you can’t be bothered to clear up what happened in the past with a simple phone call?”

“You weren’t even there when it happened, so it’s none of your business.” The words come out steady, but my body’s already starting to shake. Can he really not tell how much it bothers me that he’s constantly bringing this up? Like I don’t already think about Grant enough?

“It really doesn’t matter.” Rowan says it quietly and firmly, but it’s as though Dominic doesn’t even hear him.

“You lied to the cops about what happened, let Rowan get thrown in juvie, and then you just run away in the middle of the night. Do you have any fucking clue how worried I was when I didn’t hear from you for like a week after you left?”

“You don’t need to yell at him,” Anastasia says, her brows drawn in concern. “That’s not exactly making this situation any easier.”

“I don’t recall asking you,” Dominic mutters.

“That’s enough,” Rowan cuts in. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Brigid turns to join them, defuse the situation and calm Dominic, so I slide out of my seat and head outside the apartment building. Rowan and Anastasia have a place on Kent, so it’s nicer than anywhere I’ve ever lived. Actual flower boxes line some of the windowsills.

I sit on the front steps with a cigarette and contemplate just leaving. Going to meet with Max early. But before I can really give it too much thought, the door opens, and Rowan appears in the light coming from the front hallway.

I shift so my back is against one of the stone rails, giving Rowan room to sit across from me on the steps.

When he does, the first thing he says is, “I’m not mad at you.”

I don’t respond. Mainly because I’m not sure what to say.

“I’m trying to make peace with never actually knowing the full story,” Rowan continues. “Because I don’t think Dominic’s in the right. The situation is yours to talk about or never talk about. I guess I just wanted to understand. And I want to tell you that if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen. Even if you say that you lied to the cops to protect Grant.”

My mouth dries out as my cheeks warm. I should stay quiet. I should just nod and tell him I have to take off early. But instead, I ask, “Do you really think I’d pick that creep over you?”

“I don’t think anything,” Rowan says, his voice still soft. Soothing. “I’m simply saying that it’s okay. Juvie was hard, but it didn’t wreck my life. I’m all right.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat so large, I feel as though I could choke on it. “Dad said he was gonna kill you if you came home.” This time, my voice does shake. I remember that day so clearly. Everything was such a mess. Dad had screamed at me about what I’d been doing with Grant. Dominic had to pull him off me. I’d never been so fucking embarrassed.

“Jude…” Rowan shakes his head slightly.

“I thought you’d be safer in juvie,” I add. “I know I shouldn’t have made the decision for you, but you didn’t see him, Row. I don’t think I’d ever seen Dad that angry before.”

“So you weren’t mad at me for hitting Grant? For stopping what was going on between you two?”

“Of course I wasn’t. You saved me, Rowan. You have no idea how bad it really got.” The words come out strangled, but I keep going. I can’t have another night like this. If telling Rowan the truth stops it all, then I’m going to. “It was after class, it was in the backseat of his car, it was in the locker room, it was in our house a couple times when no one else was there.”

Rowan sucks in a breath, and I realize I said too much. This stuff’s been in my head for a decade; sometimes I forget that it’s all new to them.

“Sorry,” I say, staring down at my knuckles. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I just didn’t know it had happened at the house,” Rowan says. “Or that it had been going on so long.”

He’s quiet for a long minute, but I can feel the question pressing against him. He surprises me by not asking it, like he swore he wouldn’t. He really isn’t going to push me on this.

But he deserves to know.

“It started in the ninth grade,” I supply, my words cutting through the silence like a knife. “He tried it right after that first class. And when I said no, he did it anyway.”

That’s all the detail I can give about it. There’s so much more in my memory, in my head. But I don’t think I should say it all to Rowan. He looks sick enough as it is.

“I wish you had told me,” Rowan says softly. “I would’ve made it stop.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished talking. “I couldn’t do that. It would’ve made Dad fly off the handle. It did make him fly off the handle. He broke my fucking arm and almost put Dom in the hospital.”

Rowan swallows. He wasn’t there for that. He was already sitting in a holding cell when Dad found out.

“I didn’t go see you after your sentencing because I thought you’d be pissed at me.” I glance away from him. “And I was mortified. I didn’t want you to see me like that. It was so fucking disgusting.”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan says.

“You don’t owe me an apology.” He never will. Not for anything.

“Maybe I don’t, but I still think you deserve to hear one.”