Page 96 of Lies Like Love

Eleven years ago, when I told Jude I never wanted to see him again, I was sure of three things:

One—Jude was selfish with his feelings. Possessiveness grew roots that bloomed resentment within him. Something I watered without realizing it.

Two—Our parents didn’t love each other. My mom was in it for the money and status, while his father had reasons, I don’t think even Jude understood.

Three—My family wasn’t the only one with secrets. But unlike mine, his tangled deep.

And up until tonight, I repeated those three mantras so often they became facts. Scripture. Indisputable truth.

In my mind, Jude reached a breaking point, dragged us all down with him, and still managed to walk away unscathed.

Except, the cracks are showing. Parker’s comment had him visibly shaken. A knotted expression that drags me back a decade to when we sat in his foggy bathroom, and he refused to tell me what happened in his one and only visit to his aunt’s house.

He learned something—something he shared with someone on the football team apparently—and it broke him.

Jude squeezes my hand when he glances over his shoulder. “You okay?”

No.

But I nod, hoping he’ll believe it.

None of this is okay. And what’s worse, it doesn’t make me need him any less. I was never under any illusions when it came to Jude. He was bad then and he’s bad now. But my desire for him is inescapable.

“Where are we going?” I tug his hand as he leads me up the dark staircase that leads to his apartment. But instead of stopping at his door, he continues higher.

“You’ll see.”

Blind trust compels me to let him drag me to hell if that’s what he wants.

When the knife fell to the floor in the club’s bathroom, the wall I’ve spackled for years, crumbled. The cold war melted, acceptance taking its place.

Jude didn’t offer answers, but he gave me a choice. Accept his reasons for keeping quiet and trust him or walk away.

Either held hurt—living with his lies or losing him.

Metal clattered to the floor, and in my bones, I knew there was no going back. It doesn’t matter what he did or why. This is our second chance.

Jude is my villain. My weakness. My stepbrother. I’ll let him rip my heart from my chest and drain it for all its worth because loving him means I don’t want him any other way.

We reach the top of the staircase, and he pushes the door open, guiding me onto a large, open rooftop. LA smog hides the stars, but I feel them on the other side of the haze.

The rooftop terrace has a decent view for being in the middle of downtown, surrounded by buildings. There’s a bench, chairs, a fire pit. A nice open space to escape in a city where it’s so often impossible to do so.

“I didn’t know this was up here.” I follow Jude as he makes his way to the other side of the roof.

His fingers grip the brick ledge as I stop beside him.

“Sage and I come up here when we need to get a little space.”

“It’s beautiful.”

You can almost forget we’re in one of the worst parts of the city this late. You can almost hear beyond the pulsing of the nightclub next door. You can almost see past the smog, to the stars.

With my stomach pressed to the ledge, I search this city for the answers Jude can’t give me. I search my lungs for air and my heart for healing. Here with him, it feels reachable when it shouldn’t.

Jude moves behind me and places a hand on either side, lacing his fingers through mine on the ledge like he did when we were at the club. He wraps me in a warmth that shouldn’t feel safe.

My shield.

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