Page 48 of Wanted

I nearly choke. “Th-thank you.”

We eat in silence. Jude studies his plate, and I sneak glances at him. My skin prickles as I wait for a sharpened barb to come out of his mouth.

It never does.

I’d fill the silence with my habitual rambling, but I’m too tired and stunned to speak more than a few words.

With one final clank of his fork against the ceramic, he crosses the room and deposits the dish into the dishwasher.

“Meet me outside in half an hour. We’re taking the dogs on a walk. Wear boots.”

Before I can unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, he leaves the room.

I clean up the kitchen and get ready in a blur. My mind is stuck on our odd breakfast and the day ahead after this unexpected shift.

Has he’s finally adjusted to my presence in his space? I can’t deny how good it feels to finally see him eat the meal I prepared. For the first time, I feel useful here.

Maybe this is our new normal. We’ve worked amicably this week.

Well, Jude worked. I played with puppies until he was done.

Most days, I’ve only managed to piss him off by cooking a breakfast he won’t eat, followed by mundane tasks. He usually gets started before I’ve cleaned up my mess in the kitchen, and no matter how early I try to get up, he finds a way to start working before I’m ready. Then I spend time wandering around the Sanctuary looking for him, only for him to be finished with whatever he was working on by the time I do find him.

He's taken me into town twice for supplies and once to bring a dog to his sister’s vet clinic. By the time early afternoon rolls around each day, he tells me I can go back to the house.

If working for Jude is truly a job, it’s the easiest one I’ve ever done.

With an exasperated huff, I pull on a black coat hanging by the door. The fabric smells like Jude, and I just barely stop myself from burying my nose in the collar. The action can’t be helped when he just smells that good. I step into the boots he supplied me with and exit onto the front porch.

Jude and his enthusiastic pack meander around the muddy grass. At the sound of the door opening, he turns to find me.

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour of our walking trails.”

He waits patiently for me to catch up. The bright sun stings my eyes, sending a dull throb to my head. The pain reminds me of how I wound up in this situation in the first place, and a fearful pang settles in my stomach.

I remember Dillon. I remember we were in the car. He was driving us out west, and we were talking, and then…

And then…

I frown.

An image of leafless trees and towering pines flashes through my mind, the browns and greens distorted as the car passes quickly by. Open stretches of land separated by dense forests. A fence. Patchy snow yet to melt from the spring temperatures.

Pain.

“Frankie?”

Jude’s voice breaks through the spiral.

“Are you okay?”

The simple phrase sends tears to my waterline. Oh fuck, I might actually cry. I can’t recall the last time someone asked me that question and cared about my answer. Even through the blinding rays of the sun, the concern is evident in his eyes.

I blink until my lashes dry.

“I’m fine.”

“If you need a day to rest—”

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