Page 148 of Still Bruised
He hit Send before he lost his nerve.
Before he opened his door, he got a reply. Not much of one, but he supposed it was better than nothing. He’d hoped for a backdoor way into a conversation, though.
Jude wasn’t giving him a way in.
Jude
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27
Where Wednesday had started late, Thursday was the opposite. A bird as big as his mother had ordered needed to be started before the sun was up. There was no way she was lifting that behemoth in and out of the oven, so he’d slipped into the back door at o’dark-thirty. Once it was in the oven, he’d napped on the couch in his parents’ living room. Later he’d been awoken with a plate of eggs and bacon before joining his mother in the kitchen all day.
By around three in the afternoon, they were nearly done. Foster set the table for dinner, ready to finally sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labor. His mother strode through the dining room, placing the last of the pies on the buffet to cool.
“No, darling. There’s four of us.”
“Four?”Foster frowned. “Who else is coming?”
“We have a mystery guest!”
Foster sighed. “Please tell me it’snotwho I think it is.”
“Your cousin and her new beau seem to be going very strong. Hopefully his family likes her, too, so she can be invited the following Thanksgiving, as well,” his mother said. “And now I have my thing to be thankful of this year.Thanks, Foster.”
“You’re welcome,” Foster said before pulling out another setting and silverware to add to the table. He couldn’t imagine who it might be, but then, his parents had often extended a welcome to those who had nowhere else to be for the holiday. That likely hadn’t changed simply because his father was now retired. They’d had visiting faculty or lonely professors from Rutgers where his dad had taught, college students who couldn’t afford to travel home, service members from Fort Dix who didn’t have leave to make it home, and a host of others over the years.
After finishing the table, Foster returned to the kitchen to take the last of the sides out of the oven, amazed he remembered which timer went with which dish considering how many there were. He had to shoo his father away from the turkey again in the midst of it and pretend not to notice the chunk of leg missing, too. His father scooted back to the living room, chewing and happy.
About a quarter ‘til four, the doorbell rang, and his mother wandered off to answer it. She marched back into the kitchen a few seconds later.
“Foster, our guest would like a glass of iced tea. Can you take him one while I check the temperature on the oyster dressing?”
“Sure thing,” Foster said.
He poured a glass and headed for the living room—where he froze in his tracks the second he laid eyes on Jude.
Heat filled his cheeks, his mouth wide open.
Jude turned his focus on Foster, an amused look on his face. “Something tells me no one told you I was coming.”
Foster shook his head before carefully closing the gap and handing over the iced tea.
“I hope I’m not an unwanted guest,” Jude said, his voice low as he reached for the glass.
Their fingers touched, and Foster almost jumped from the feel of Jude’s skin against his. “Not at all.”
A slow smile stretched over Jude’s face. Foster fought one of his own.
“I need to help my mom wrap up dinner,” Foster said, unable to drag his gaze from Jude’s.
Not when Jude was looking at him like that.
Like he wantedhimfor dinner.
“Do you need help?”
I need help wrapping my mind around the fact you’re sitting in my parents’ house, casually watching the game like this is no big deal.
