Page 39 of Wanted

Jude chuckles, one of those rare brief laughs that has me forgetting about the worries in my head. "They're going to love you just because that's the kind of people they are. And I dare you to try not to like them back."

"I'm not worried about that. I already like them." I gesture to the clothes they brought me.

"You can't avoid them. They’re probably staring at us out the window as we speak, so let's get this over with." He jerks his head in the direction of the house.

He's right. I'm being ridiculous. They don't know me any more than the next person who walks into this town. I shouldn't care what they think of me.

But for some reason, I do.

If this is truly the fresh start I've craved for so long, I want to be liked.

I want to feel like I might belong.

I roll my shoulders, ready to hop out, when suddenly Jude is there, tugging my door the rest of the way open and offering me his hand.

"Wouldn't want you to slip and break the other arm."

I hold up two fingers barely an inch apart and squint. "I'm this close to hating you."

"I'll have to try harder then."

The warmth of his hand swallows mine as I slip mine in and step down. He seems to touch me so effortlessly, as if it's no consequence to him to have his skin brushing mine. Touching my hand, lifting me in his arms, carrying me to his four-wheeler, dressing me in his shirt. He seems utterly unaffected, and here I am trying not to hyperventilate on his mother's sidewalk. He must have had a lot of practice, and I've had practically none.

He tugs me aside in order to shut the door and hit the locks on the key fob. Only then does he let go, and I find I instantly feel the loss of his touch.

I can only imagine what his family would think if we walked in holding hands. The message that might send.

"Are we the last ones here?"

"Most likely. Sometimes Aiden shows up after everyone else."

"Is he another brother?"

Jude glances down at me. "He's the youngest."

Keeping them straight already seems like it might be impossible.

Without knocking, he twists the knob and leads me in. I trail behind, fighting the feeling of my shoulders bunching around my ears.

The sound of chatter immediately surrounds me as the door closes at my back. The warmth of the house suffuses me, along with the smell of cinnamon treats and other baked desserts. I think I can pick out the scent of apple in the air.

Following Jude's lead, I toe off my shoes and push them aside before following him around the corner into a kitchen.

"Uncle Dude!"

"It'sJude,Bennett.Juh-Juhsound like my preschool teacher telled me." A little girl with bouncy blond curls follows the small boy to Jude's knees. Her features are twisted into a stern expression.

"I say dat!" Bennett lifts his hands straight in the air in the universal sign for pick me up.

“My man.” Jude swiftly complies. "He'll get it, Luce. You're a good teacher."

"Who are you?" She peers around her uncle's legs at me.

"My name is Frankie."

Bennett slaps his palms against Jude's broad shoulders. "You got a Fankie, Uncle Dude!"

"Frankie is my friend." Jude turns the two of them around to face me. "Now tell her your name."

---