Page 86 of The Plus One
Indira abided Jude’s request to be left alone, which, knowing her hard-headedness, was rather fucking disorienting for him. And it left him with way too much time to think.
Ghosts crept in, memories of injuries and agony and voices and cries all compounded with Jude’s guilt until his brain was a swampy, clouded mess he couldn’t wade through.
He sat on the edge of the pull-out bed, head in hands and heart thrumming painfully against his chest. Jude used to think he deserved all this pain—some sort of atonement for all the blood on his hands—but now that he remembered how happiness felt, he wanted nothing more than to be free of it. Unshackle himself from the weight of it hanging around his neck.
And the truth was, he didn’t want to be left alone. Not by Indira. Because, around her, he felt better. Could breathe a little easier. And he was selfish and wanted more of that.
He felt like his time with Indira was being stolen, but here he was, wasting it. He got up, striding to the door and wrenching it open, desperate to be closer to her.
He jumped when he saw her standing in the hall, hand poised like she was about to knock.
Indira looked at him, wide eyes hesitant but determined. She swallowed, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside. She had on flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt decorated with Baby Yodas. She looked so adorable he thought his knees might give out.
“I think we need to talk,” he said, turning to face her as he shut the door.
“Is that so?” Indira said, flashing him a soft but sad smile.
Jude’s breath caught in his throat at a surge of overwhelming tenderness for this woman. For her steady perseverance. It seemed impossible to feel as much as he did for Indira—just breathing around her made his chest ache and his throat burn. And it scared the shit out of him. With so much pain already drowning him, he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that existed between them.
Indira stepped toward him, picking up his hand and holding it in both of hers, cradling it to her chest.
“Jude, I love you.”
She said it simply, as though hearing those words didn’t completely rearrange every molecule in Jude’s body.
“I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t like you, I loved you. You’ve been a permanent fixture in my life, someone steady to rely on, even when that reliance came with annoying each other or teasing. Because you let me tease you back. You’ve always been my person, Jude. My annoying, wonderful person. And I think I’m your person too.”
Jude started shaking his head, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared at her. He pulled his hand from her, stepping back and scrubbing his palms down his face. He couldn’t hear this. He couldn’t possibly listen to something so kind and pure and sweet and survive it.
But Indira kept going.
“I know something happened to you,” she said, holding his gaze. His skin prickled like a fever breaking. “I know you’re hurting. You’re in pain. I want to help you. I want to be here for you.”
Jude’s throat started working, opening and closing on words and feelings he couldn’t get out.
“I’m scared,” he finally managed, tears rolling down his cheeks. How could he love her wholly, the way she deserved, if he was nothing but a jagged fragment of who he used to be? “I’m really fucking broken,” he admitted, the words ripped from his chest.
“I’m not looking to fix you,” she said, staring straight into his eyes. “I’m here to love you.”
Jude’s head swam, bolts of feelings shocking his system as he tried to process any of this.
“Why?” he eventually asked.
Indira’s eyes scoured over his face, and he could feel the heat of them on his skin. His fingers twitched with the need to reach for her, but he was too overwhelmed to move.
After a long moment, she spoke. “I’m going to speak in similes and metaphors for a moment, and you aren’t allowed to roll your eyes.” Her lips quirked at the corners as she said it, and the ghost of her smile nearly broke Jude in two.
She chewed on her lip, her eyes flicking to the bed. “Can I hold you while we talk?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Jude said, the words tumbling out of him rapid fire and a bit too loud.
“Okay.” She smiled again, this one rich and glowing. “Lay down,” she said, reaching out and tugging his hand.
He nodded, unable to say anything with that pressure still building in his throat, threatening to rip him in half. He let Indira guide him to the bed, and she gently pushed him to sit at the edge. He scooched back to lean against the pillows, legs stretched out in front of him. It felt like he couldn’t get air past the base of his throat as she looked at him.
“Would you be willing to take this off?” Indira asked, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.
Without a second thought, Jude nodded and pulled it over his head.
