Page 18 of Hidden Vows
“What do you mean?” I hear his feet shuffle slightly, and when I look up, he’s standing on the other side of the chair.
“Just that I’m normally already in love with the story and characters at this point in the story.” I shrug, shouldering my bag.
“What’s different about this one?” His eyes bounce betweenmine, an emotion swelling in them that I can’t quite place.
“Jude.” I sigh, my shoulders deflating. I might not be able to read the emotion in his eyes, but I know this can’t be about a book. “Why are we talking about a book?”
“Honestly? I don’t want you to go. I know it’s selfish and I have no right, but that’s the truth.” He shifts, removing his hands from his pockets, placing them on the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he grips it. “I’ve…you’re…” His words trail off, and his head falls forward, clearly at a loss for what to say.
I can’t blame him. I don’t know what to say either.
I’ve seen Jude every day for the last week, but I haven’t allowed myself to study him, and in this moment, I finally allow myself the time to see him.
When I knew Jude before, he constantly fought the stereotype of the boy from the wrong side of the tracks—even if there weren’t any tracks running through this town. He was clean-shaven, kept his hair short, and always wore clean-cut clothes. He never looked comfortable in his own skin. But he’s changed in the almost two decades since I’ve seen him.
His golden-brown eyes still show exactly what he’s feeling—if you bother to take the time to know him—but his features have matured. His hair is longer, and instead of having a clean-shaven look, he’s grown a full beard, though it’s well-maintained. He’s given up the almost stuffy attire he used to wear and swapped them out for a more laid-back appearance. His jeans hug his hips and thighs, tapering into a pair of biker boots, and at the collar of his plain black T-shirt, tattoos poke out. On his fingers, more tattoos are printed along his skin, though I can’t make out what the different symbols are. I can’t know for sure since he’s wearing a leather jacket, but I have a feeling there are even more tattoostraveling up his arms.
He looks nothing like I remember and yet the same.
He finally looks comfortable in his body, and part of me hates that I wasn’t there to see that transformation.
“I’m sorry, Abs.” He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine. “I know that’s not nearly enough, but I?—”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I say, cutting him off and bending to pick up the book. “You’re right, though.” Standing straight, I meet his eyes, and the pain I see in them makes me pause.
It’s not only pain. The pinch in his brow and the slump of his shoulders show a devastation I only remember seeing in him once before. Everything about his stance makes me wonder how he can still be in so much pain over everything.
“Sorry isn’t enough, and you don’t get to ask me to stay.”
“Abbey. I-I’m not the same person anymore.” His voice is so soft I almost miss it.
“I know,” I whisper. “Neither am I.”
It hurts realizing we don’t know each other anymore. I thought I’d see every version of Jude Murphy, but because of one stupid moment, I’ll never know the versions of him I missed.
He studies me for a second, and I see the moment something clicks in his brain—his eyes clear and his posture straightens. “I’m going to prove that to you.”
I step around the chair, moving toward the door. “Jude?—”
This time, he’s the one to cut me off. “I know you’re not ready.” I hear his steps behind me and feel his heat at my back. “But soon, we’re going to sit down and talk about it. All of it,” he whispers.
My eyes fall closed, and his voice is so close to my ear the warmth sends a shiver up my spine. I pray that he doesn’t noticehow my body responds. Without saying anything or looking back at him, I step from the room and try not to run out of the hospital.
How can he still have that kind of power over my body—and my heart?
—
February 28, 2012
Do you remember our first kiss? Nothing was the same after that, but it’s a moment I wouldn’t change for anything.
You felt left out because all your other friends already had their first kiss, and you thought they were leaving you behind. We were still just friends, but we were best friends, and you trusted me not to judge you. You thought it was an experience we could share, just like everything else in life up to that point.
We were at your fourteenth birthday party, and we’d just blown out your candles. It was your party, but you knew my dad couldn’t throw me one for my birthday a few days later.
You’d always been so adamant about sharing your birthday with me, no matter how much it upset your dad.
You came up to me in the hallway and pushed me into the bathroom, demanding I kiss you. I remember being so nervous. I had the biggest crush on you—I don’t know if you ever knew that.
