Page 106 of Still Bruised
Jude looked away.
“I guess we’re both cowards,” Foster said. He walked past Jude, towards the stairs. He paused at the table at the top and snaggedhis keys. Spinning, he faced Jude. “I’d say we’re even now. Consider yourself repaid.”
Foster turned and walked down the stairs.
“Foster,come on…”Jude said, marching to the edge of them. “I just wanted to give us time. For me to figure shit out.”
Foster paused at the door and looked back up at him. “Well, now you have all the time in the world. You no longer have worry about choosing between me or your friends. Win-win.”
Jude could only stand there and watch the door close behind Foster.
Don’t let him leave.
Paralyzed by doubts, Jude’s feet were cemented to the floor. He couldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d known all along it would never work between them, so why was he so surprised it was ending?
Maybe because he’d not been the one to end it like he’d planned.
He’d sensed it was going to be hard when the time came, yet Foster seemed to have walked away with ease.
Probably for the best it’s over. I was only a rebound for him anyway.
The buzzer went off on the oven and woke him out of his daze. After rushing to the kitchen, he pulled the lasagna out of the oven, burning the side of his hand in the process. In a fit of rage, he threw the dish at the wall.
It shattered into pieces. The red sauce and cheese glided down in an angry streak. Jude’s hips fell back against the kitchen counter, and he slid down to the floor, watching it.
I knew it was going to hurt when it ended.
Foster slipped behindthe wheel of his SUV, his blood pulsing loudly in his ears. Stringing him along, hmm? Fuck that. He might be the dumbass who fell for someone he shouldn’t have, but no way was he going to allow it to continue. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Jude’s deep voice had carried, making it impossible not to hear their conversation.
Every word had stung.
Every denial a knife to the chest.
He’d claimed he’d told Anton what the guy needed to hear. How did he know it wasn’t him getting lip service? If what Jude had told Anton was actually the truth, that made things ten times worse.
After starting the engine, he stared up at Jude’s apartment. The need to run back up there and demand Jude admit he had feelings pulsed like an angry tooth inside him. What good would it do, though? Jude’s walls were fifteen feet thick and impenetrable.
Why was he banging his head against that?
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a curtain move but wasn’t sure.
Regret?
He was an idiot to think Jude would allow himself to feel anything at all. He was devoid of emotion. He’d lived his entiremarried life without love and affection. Why the fuck was he so willing to do it again?
Foster took a couple of cleansing breaths before gunning it away from the curb, but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to be alone. He called Cary, needing a beer and a friendly face. Just like the last couple of times, though, he got voicemail.
“Hey, I was hoping we could get together and have a drink. It’s been a shitty fucking day.” Foster sighed. “I’ve called a few times and haven’t heard back. You better not be rotting in some South American prison. Talk soon. I hope.”
When Jude wokeup the following morning, he cursed himself for not cleaning the lasagna off the wall before he’d crawled into bed. He cleaned up the mess before heading downstairs, where he nearly lost the tip of his finger on the bandsaw a couple of hours later. If it hadn’t been for Paulie noticing his inattention, it would’ve been gone and he’d be sitting in the emergency room.
“Wake up,Jude,” Paulie yelled, pulling him away from the saw.
Jude blinked a few times while Paulie shut the machine down. He turned to eye Jude, concern etched in the furrows of his brow. He dragged Jude to the cooler and shut the door.
“You’ve been like a zombie all morning. What gives?”
Jude shook his head. “I’m fine.”
