Page 102 of Still Bruised
Foster’s heart sped up a little, but he needed to play it cool.“Oh?”
“I even lied to him and told him I was sick,” Jude said. “Ineverlie to Anton.” He shook his head. “Although, the lie was to prevent him from stopping by and catching you here with me.”
Foster held Jude’s gaze, unsure he should add anything to that.
“I lied to him because I knew he would never approve of me having anything to do with you,” Jude said. “And if Rick thinks he knows something, he’s likely going to run his mouth. It might get back to Anton. Then I’ll have to own up to this or lie to him. Again.”
Foster watched him, silent.
“What do I do, Foster? Do I lie again?”
Foster knew what he hoped Jude would do, but he couldn’t control that. He could make no demands of Jude. “I can’t answer that for you.”
“Anton has been there through thick and thin. He’s always had my back.Always.”Jude lifted his chin, almost defiant. “You didn’t.”
Foster winced.
“I think you know who I’d choose if it came down to it. I think we also know that this isn’t going to last.” Jude placed both hands on the island and leaned closer. “Yet here I am, letting you in because I’m stupid. I just can’t help tormenting myself, apparently.”
“You never know. Anton might learn to like me. You have.”
Jude scowled at him and drew another of the food containers out. “Idon’tlike you.”
“Says the guy who lied to his best friend to hang out with me instead.”
Jude’s hand was perched above the bag to grab another container, but he lowered it, holding Foster’s gaze. “Don’t make me regret letting you come tonight.”
“I would never want to be one of your regrets.”
Jude tensed, holding his stare.
Foster rounded the island and stood facing Jude’s side. “One day, I hope I can be a happy memory instead of what I am now.” He gently caressed Jude’s stubbly cheek with the back of his hand. The scent of Jude’s freshly showered body—the mix of body wash, mint toothpaste, and Jude himself—was burned into his memory. It likely would be forevermore. He pressed his nose against the back of Jude’s ear and inhaled deep. “If that’s all I can be, then that’ll be good enough for me.”
Jude turned his face to Foster, and they locked gazes.
Before they locked lips.
Jude slowly turned his body and pressed it against Foster’s. They stumbled toward the bedroom, clothes flying once more. Afterthey’d both come and lay boneless, panting in one another’s arms, Foster searched Jude’s face. In his mind, he returned to the conversation they’d had before they’d fallen into bed.
He hoped Jude was wrong and the end wasn’t approaching.
Foster wasn’t ready to let go.
And might never be.
19
A couple of weeks later…
Jude got out of his post-work shower and dried off. Once he’d tossed on a pair of sweatpants and a tee, he padded barefoot out to the living room and found Foster setting the table. He walked closer and frowned. Foster had done the whole thing up, silverware, his mom’s old crystal wine goblets, and a bottle of red sat open on the table. Thankfully there was no candle sitting in the middle of the table or Jude might’ve fully lost it.
“What’s wrong with eating in front of the television,” Jude grumbled.
“After the way you talked about Mrs. Giovani’s lasagna, I figured it deserved the table and real plates instead of paper ones,” Foster said before pouring them each a glass of wine. He lifted them both and closed the small gap between them. “It’s still got a few more minutes in the oven before it’s ready to serve.”
Jude took the glass and downed it in one big gulp.
“Thirsty?”
