Page 33 of Fighting For You
His jaw flexed, visible despite his even longer than yesterday beard.
No words, no surprise.Onward.
“I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry for the contents of what I said after the mission, but I am genuinely sorry for the timing. I—”I thought you were just being an extra big jerk.That didn’t really work—not a great apology if it comes with a side of insults, especially after he’d taken suchgood care of me. “It was a lot, working together. And I didn’t consider that you might be… going through something.”
His eyes skipped away from mine and he took a large bite.
Okayyyy.
After a moment, he spoke to his plate. “Thanks.”
I huffed, gazing around at the cozy space so at odds with this stilted interaction, unsurprised by the curt reply. A little wire basket with heads of garlic sat on the counter near the stove. A bowl of red and yellow swirled apples occupied prime placement on the island. An ornate metal bottlecap opener had been mounted under the cabinet that looked oddly worn.
Focusing on the details helped me avoid the frustration his reply ignited and how hard it was to tell if that edge to the word was sarcasm. Was it? Why would it be? And yet… hadn’t most of our interactions for the last five years been something like this, minus the apology or sincerity?
“No, really, Pop. Thank you.”
A glance at his face confirmed what I thought I’d heard—he was genuinely saying thank you.
So many of our encounters had been ugly and hard. His real response, one without an edge to it, softened me.
“I know she meant so much to you. I guess your grandpa passed a while back?” I hoped the words sounded gentle like I meant them and not combative like most everything else I ever said to him.
He nodded, his eyes snagging on mine. A beat passed before he said, “About five years ago.”
My chest ached and my throat burned at the thought of him losing both of his people so close together. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” he said again, quieter this time. “How’s your mom doing?”
I huffed lightly, the bizarre reality of this conversation hitting me. Talking about family, catching up almost like old friends as we sat here side by side eating eggs he’d made… it was so far from what had been our norm.
“She’s good. Really happy with Guy. They moved to Tampa for his work and… yeah. She’s good, thanks.” My mom and I had been on our own for so long, I’d hardly known how to adjust to her meeting and falling for Guy. But by then, I was in the Army, and by the time they got married, I was engaged to Kurt.
It’d crossed my mind more than once that Mom finding her happiness had made me want to find my own place, myperson, more urgently than I had before. We’d been a team until I’d left home for the Army and she’d supported me from afar, but I was grown, and it wasn’t just the two of us against the world anymore. She had Guy, who was a better man than my father had ever been and loved her so much. He became her home.
And seeing that… I’d wanted the same for myself desperately. Both for my own happiness and future, and for her, so I could tell her I was good—that we both had what we’d always hoped for, so she could truly just relax and enjoy how her life turned out.
When my life fell apart, it was a relief that hers was still intact.
“Good. I’m glad.”
He seemed to mean it, too, which warmed me. He’d met my mom when she visited. She’d been charmed by Kurt, as was typical of women who met him, but she’d beentakenby Beast. I remembered her peppering me with questionsabout him and widening her eyes a few times like,Is this guy real?
And I remember telling her yes. He was a good friend.
A stab of sadness hit in the tender spot where I usually felt only anger with him.
Now that I’d done it… now that I’d made what little peace I could, energy was leaving me fast and my mood was dropping.
“I think I’ll go rest for a while, if that’s okay.”
He dipped his head, eyes studying me like he might be able to sense if my fever had jumped up again. “Take your temperature before you get in bed.”
Shaking my head at his unending reserves of bossiness, I waved as I walked down the hallway toward the bedroom. “Wilco.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jude
