Page 135 of Still Bruised
“Okay. Thanks, man.”
“Oh, by the way—did you ever have that sit down with Mia?”
Jude cringed.“No.”He’d spent all his free time fucking Foster and put it off until later. Now, there was no more laters left.
Anton sighed. “I guess you can do it at the hospital.”
“If she even wants to see me,” Jude muttered.
“Man, don’t get it twisted. Just go to sleep and worry about it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Hey, what happened to Mr. Wants to Work on Himself? This is what working on you means. Facing difficult shit. Don’t lose Roan because you can’t face Mia.”
“I’ll try to talk with her, though I don’t think that’s the right place and time for it.”
“You made the same excuse before. There might never be there right time for it, so just do it.”
“Yeah, I will—night.”
“Night,” Anton said before hanging up.
Jude lay back down and forced himself to close his eyes, but the seconds ticked by and there was no way he could sleep. He reached for his phone again, checking to see if there were any updates. It had only been forty-five minutes, but whatever. Things could progress quickly. What did he know?
He tossed his phone back on the nightstand and rolled over. Then snatched his phone again, irritated he was so attached to it. But who the fuck was he going to talk to at that hour of the night?
Jude ended up doing exactly what he did whenever he was restless late at night. He opened Grindr. He hadn’t had sex in weeks. Not since Foster Halloween night. His body was screaming for a release. Anything to calm him down.
Maybe there was a night owl online who could help him with that problem.
He scanned the profiles, but no one interesting was on… and then saw one that made him gasp.
Foster.
Foster was on fucking Grindr.
Is he fucking around?
Fucking hypocrite. I was just looking for someone to fuck around with.
Not like I was going to. Remember Halloween night? I couldn’t even bring myself to flirt with other men.
What have you done to me, Foster?
He scanned the photo Foster had used. Shirtless, showing off his muscled chest and arms. His hair was a bit tousled, kind of how it looked when he woke up in the mornings. He smiled at the camera, a twinkling humor in his blue eyes. He’d smiled at Jude like that so many times.
He missed that smile.
Jude slammed his phone down on the bed beside him. How dare Foster be on that app. How long had it been? Before or after they’d been together? How many men had he slept with? Stupid question. Foster was gorgeous. Smart. Funny. He had a lot going for him.
And he wasn’t broken like Jude.
Foster was probably cleaning up. A new guy every single night.
Although, something told Jude that wasn’t the case. Look how quickly he’d latched on and developed feelings. Foster wasn’t a fuckboy. It wasn’t in his nature.
He was a golden fucking retriever who just wanted to be loved.
