Page 29 of The Plus One
Somehow, he managed to nod, and she reached out, fingertips stroking Jude’s fisted knuckles. He forced his muscles to relax, letting Indira coax his fingers apart and slide her palm into his.
“We’re going to get out of here,” she said, keeping those big brown eyes locked on Jude. Anchoring him.
She started walking, tugging gently at Jude’s arm.
And he followed.
There was nothing more he was capable of doing at that moment than following Indira out of the chaos of that bar into the cool night air.
CHAPTER 12
Jude
The world was still spinning as Jude let go of Indira’s hand. He slouched against the brick wall of the adjacent alley, shoving his fingers through his hair and tugging at it as he dropped his head.
Indira’s shoes entered his line of sight as he stared down at the concrete.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. His breaths were coming short and tasted bitter, his stomach swooping. Was this his life now? Either feeling absolutely nothing or feeling everything all at once? What a miserable fucking existence. Such a lonely one.
“In this moment, you are safe,” Indira said softly.
The words caught Jude so off-guard, his head jerked up and he met her eyes.
Her face was serene, gently observing Jude. He wanted to drown in her calmness.
“You are here in this alley,” she continued. “And I’m here with you. The October night is cold and the air a little smelly. But we’re both safe. We’re both here.”
The lovely rasp of her voice lulled Jude’s somersaulting thoughts.
But the comfort was as scary as chaos. Jude felt both sharply. Painfully. Both existed outside of the safety of numbness. The softness of Indira’s voice, the closeness of her body, cracked him open, busted down the doors to the pain he kept tightly shut. It made him desperate to escape those feelings.
“H-hold me,” Jude choked out. “Please. Please hold me.”
Indira moved immediately, wrapping her arms around his waist, squeezing him, hugging him tightly to her. He clutched her back like he could melt into her skin.
And then he was crying. His chest heaved, lungs threatening to burst as he choked down air and emotion flooded him.
Jude couldn’t think of the last time he’d cried. Not from broken bones as a kid, or grandparents’ funerals. Not from anger or stress or frustration. Not even as he witnessed all the death and pain and hurt wrapped around the globe.
It hurt, this crying. It grated against his throat and stripped his skin. He couldn’t stop.
Indira held him through it all. She pressed onto her tiptoes, plastering herself against him. Anchoring him. One hand rubbed circles across his back, imprinting care along his spine, while the other rested on the nape of his neck as he rested his head on her shoulder.
He eventually cried himself dry, and Indira held him in the after, stroking the hairs at the back of his neck and making a gentle humming sound as he caught his breath.
A bizarre mix of relief and shame pushed through him, but all he could really focus on was how glad he was to feel a little less of the hurt, like he’d stripped off a weight strapped to his neck. It was a bit terrifying to realize how much he felt he needed Indira in that moment. He wanted to stay in her arms forever.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Indira asked softly against his shoulder.
Jude shook his head first, then nodded, then shrugged.
“Not really,” he said, the words muffled by Indira’s thick curls.
“Do youneedto talk about it?”
With a sigh he pulled away, stiffly untangling himself from herwarmth. “I… I don’t know. I want to tell you I’m fine, but I also know how contrary you are, so it seems a bit pointless.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, then attempted a weak smile. She stared at him with those endless eyes. Waiting.
