Page 35 of Following Their Heart

“Found her on the kitchen table. Beneath my little brother. They were fucking,” he clarifies. “Tore Shorty off her—that was my brother—and we fought. Went at each other like idiot kids on the playground. He was pissed, I was pissed. We yelled at each other while throwing fists.”

I hear that sigh again and peek up to find him shaking his head. His gaze is vacant. He’s staring at the past.

“I was drunk and fucking pissed.” He goes quiet. “I was hurt.” His massaging hands move lower. He’s working on my butt, and it feelsuh-mazing.But the story he’s telling me has a heaviness to it. My body is relaxed, but my mind is on guard. “My wife and my fucking brother. Talk about betrayal, right?

“So, I laid into him. Hard. Shorty was a big guy, but he got the name ’cause I towered over him. He was my little brother in more ways than one. Even drunk, I had the advantage, and let me tell you, I used it. Was beating him to a pulp.

“Heard Miranda shouting, ‘Get off him! Stop it! Get off him!’ and I was like, why’s she tellin’ Shorty to get off me? I’m the one beating his ass. Then I realized. She was tellin’meto get off Shorty. She was takin’hisside. And didn’t that just twist the knife?

“She didn’t give a shit about me. If it was Shorty winning the fight, she would’ve been cheering him on. Fuckin’ lost my mind. My fists flew. I just…couldn’t stop. Then, all of a sudden, there was thisbang!”

He claps his hands and makes me jump, but then he’s back at my bottom, using those hands to soothe my aching muscles.

“The bullet was meant for me.” I listen to him breathe. In and out. In and out. “Miranda thought I was killing Shorty. Hell, I probably was. But that bullet—thatwas what killed him. She was aiming for me, but we were rollin’ around, fighting. She missed, and the round went right through his eye. Killed him instantly.”

My breath freezes in my lungs.

“I froze when I heard that shot. Didn’t know if I was hit, or what the hell just happened. Then blood starting just gushing from the back of his head.” His hands stop their massaging.

I can’t stay quiet anymore. I don’t care if I mess this up. I need to say something. I need to at least try to comfort my poor Jud.

“I’m so sorry.” I sit up and climb into his lap, and his arms close around me. “So sorry, Jud.”

“Rick,” he says. “Richard, but I went by Rick. ThenBreaker.” He spits the name out like sour milk. “That was my club name once I was old enough to join, what everyone called me. ‘Breaker of hearts,’ the guys would say. ‘Breaker of vaginas.’ ‘Breaker of jaws.’ But it turned out I was the broken one.”

Oh, wow. His name was Rick. Then Breaker. Names from a past he wishes he could forget. I’m honored he shared them with me, and I vow in my heart never to call him Breaker. I squeeze him tight around his neck while he goes on.

“I fell back against the cabinets and sat there while that pool of blood just grew and grew. Couldn’t believe what just happened. My brother was dead. Killed by my wife. A second ago, I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp, but now—all the anger was just…gone. I felt fucking empty. Fuckingbroken.”

His arms tighten around me, and my heart breaks for him.

“Miranda—she threw herself on Shorty. She was a wreck. Trying to revive him, even though it was hopeless. She wouldn’t give up. She was bawling. I knew then. This wasn’t a one-time thing. She fucking loved him. I was a fucking cuckold, and now I’d lost my brother, to boot.”

I card my fingers through his hair. “Oh, Jud.” I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been. His whole life got turned upside-down in just a few minutes.

“Then we heard the sirens” he says. “Someone must’ve heard the shot, called the cops. Miranda started panicking, babbling about how she couldn’t go to jail for this. She didn’t mean to do it, and she waspregnant.” He drops the final word like a bomb. His arms squeeze me, then he lets go with one arm and wipes a hand over his face.

“Fucking pregnant. With my child, was my first thought, then I had another thought. What if it was Shorty’s? Either way. That’s family. You don’t fuck with family. A man protects his family. No matter what.

“So, before the cops kicked in the door, I picked up the gun. Wiped it with my shirt and made sure to cover it in my fingerprints. Especially the trigger.”

I lean back and try to look him in the eye, but his gaze is out of focus.

“Took the fall. Couldn’t have my pregnant wife in jail. Couldn’t have our baby born in prison. Plus, it was my damn fault she went for the weapon. Hell, if she hadn’t fired, I might have ended up beating him to death. I was out of my mind with jealousy. It was my fault Shorty was dead. So, I took the blame.”

“That’s why you were in prison.”

He doesn’t say anything. His shoulders sag, and his head hangs low.

I guide him to lie down on his stomach, and I start massaging him like he did for me. Speaking into the silence would feel like a blasphemy, so I just knead Jud’s muscles in silence.

After a while, he starts snoring, and I hope he’s having nice dreams, maybe about our time together today. I never want him to have nightmares about a past where he made such a profound sacrifice for someone who’d just broken his heart.

No wonder you’re so guarded. My poor Jud.

Jud

Sometime in the night,I found my way out of my shirt, and my hand found its way into Cora’s shirt. I’m spooned around her beneath the blankets, and her small breast presses into my hand, nipple soft and supple. Makes my mouth water as I come awake.

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