Page 26 of Crossroads of Innocence
Jude shrunk against Wade and knotted her hands in front of her. Her body went rigid, her gaze instantly landing on the floor.
Picking up on the shift of energy, Wade worked his jaw back and forth and positioned himself between Jude and her father. “Mr. Metcalf,” he said.
Jenson’s stare turned to stone for a brief second before he softened his features and grinned. “Jude Bug! You’re home!”
11
The familiar punch of cologne that rolled off her father made Jude’s stomach heave. She reached for Wade, needing an anchor to steady her so she didn’t fall to the floor. Coming here to see Matthew meant the risk of running into her family was high, but she hadn’t been prepared for her dad to barge into what she’d thought was a safe space.
Wade steadied her with a hand on the small of her back, his other arm rigid under her death grip.
Her dad’s fake grin melted into concern, predatory green eyes rounded and mouth turned down ever so slightly at the corners. “I can’t believe it’s really you. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you—since we talked to you. Your mother will be so happy to see you. Especially with everything going on.”
He took a step forward and she flinched, pushing closer to Wade. Her mouth went dry.
A flash of anger took over Jenson’s face before he schooled his features. He held open his arms. “Well, come here and give your old man a hug. It’s been one hell of a day. Seeing you will make things just a little bit better.”
She needed to say something, do something other than stand in the room, tension thick and uncomfortable, staring at her dad.
Keeping his hand firmly planted on her back, Wade sidestepped Jude so he was a few inches in front of her. “So sorry to hear about Matthew, sir.”
Jenson dropped his arms and cut his gaze to Wade. “Thank you. We’re all pretty shaken. As you can imagine, we have a lot of questions.”
Jude fought not to squirm. She wasn’t stupid. The questions were meant for her. Chances were Matthew wasn’t even a concern for her dad, even with his life in the balance. He’d made it perfectly clear Matthew’s life choices weren’t okay for the Metcalf family but thank God her brother had thumbed his nose at their father’s judgement—choosing Brandon even if it cost him more than it ever should have.
Cruz cleared his throat, drawing eyes his way. “We all have questions, Mayor. And I can assure you I won’t stop until I have them answered. Why don’t we step outside? I can brief you on what I know so far.”
A vein ticked at Jenson’s temple, a sign he was losing his patience.
I’m okay. He can’t touch me. Can’t torture me or hurt me. Not anymore.
Jenson gave a curt nod then fixed another smile on her. “So glad to see you, Jude Bug. Can’t wait to catch up.”
Cruz ushered him out to the hall, closing the door behind him.
Her knees buckled and she fell against Wade’s hard chest. Dark spots invaded her vision. She closed her eyes, but it just increased the sense of panic clawing at her throat.
“Hey. I got ya, darlin‘. Let’s get you in this chair real quick. Nice and easy.”
She leaned most of her weight on his strong arms as he helped lower her onto the chair. Sweat coated her palms. She wiped them up and down the rough material of her jeans, rubbing her thighs again and again and again as memories slapped her. Her chest tightened, her breaths caught in the web of fear wedged in her throat. She struggled to take in air, and tears stung the corners of her eyes.
Wade crouched in front of her. “Look at me, honey.”
His voice was distant, jumbled as if he projected his words through a puddle of mud. But she latched onto it, focused on the thick, southern drawl and obvious concern. She blinked, pulling herself from the abyss she’d withdrawn into countless times as a child.
She wasn’t that child any longer. She was strong and capable and had spent countless hours—and dollars—working on herself. On wading through the bullshit tossed at her from her father so she’d never have to come back to this dark place in her mind for survival.
Blinking, she stared into Wade’s brown eyes. Concentrated on the feel of his hand on hers. The scent of pine and sandalwood with a hint of citrus that clung to his skin. The pressure in her chest lessened, her breathing evened out and her vision cleared. Tears leaked over her cheeks, and she dashed them away, angry that all it had taken was one brief encounter with her dad to reduce her to a puddle of fear and panic.
Just like when she was a kid.
“There you go,” Wade said. “Take a second and catch your breath.”
She licked her dry lips and finally stopped the motion of her palms against her thighs. Heat crashed against her cheeks. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Wade said. A beat of awkward silence simmered in the air before he continued. “Wanna talk about it?”
She wiped her face then ran a palm over her hair, as if righting her appearance would right everything else in the world. A stupid Metcalf family habit she’d never outgrown—look the part, play the part, act the part.
