Page 59 of The Surrender
“What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?”
Rhys smiles at me. I don’t know where he finds it, because I’m struggling myself. Then he comes to me and gives me a hug. “Look after him, okay? He’s not as tough as he lets on.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jude breathes, raking a stressed hand through his hair.
“Shut up and give me a hug.” Rhys drops me and slams Jude into his chest. “I’ll be a good boy,” he says, planting a smacker of a kiss on Jude’s cheek before breaking away and leaving us, weaving through the built-up traffic as he crosses the road.
I let Jude take the keys and put me back in his side, walking us on. “You’re protective of them,” I say.
“Maybe,” he murmurs.
I hum, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart. “Mr. Big Tough Guy.”
He laughs, poking me in my ribs in warning. “I’ll show you big when we get home. All eight inches of it.”
I laugh, but it’s light. Uneasy. I’ve seen anger on Jude about his father. Not so much his mother. And yet Rhys likened Jude to the Hulk over his father—I get that—and a bear with a sore head since his mother passed. Does this mean he’s only expressed anger over his fathersincehis mother died? More questions mount. The rage inside Jude is very real. Very destructive.
Very worrying.
Chapter 14
I got precisely no sleep last night, but I did get the full, delicious eight inches numerous times, with pillow talk interludes between each session. Every time we took a break from each other, the questions about his anger over his father hung on my tongue, as well as Rhys’s statement.Since Mum died.But I thought better than to ask, and it was as if Jude sensed my curiosity, because the instant one of those small silences fell, he’d roll on top of me and we’d go again. He finally drifted off at gone five with me curled in his side, and by six I still hadn’t found sleep. So I got up, showered, and arranged for Humphrey to take me back to London.
Abbie was leaving as we pulled up, sipping from a travel mug of coffee. She looked at my exhausted form, tried not to smile, dropped a kiss on my cheek, and said she’d call me later. I showered, skipped the gym—I worked out enough last night—and got my arse to work.
Yawning, I rest back in my chair and click send on multiple emails, my mind naturally straying to Jude. His father. And then, of course, the pills. I’m no expert, but I’d say he still needs to be taking them, especially given the fury I got a glimpse of last night that he was obviously trying to keep a lid on. Jude’s temper has always seemed extreme. It’s always been a concern. Maybe he needs therapy, not pills. I sink farther into my chair on a sigh, having a mental conversation with Jude, asking him all the questions I dare not for fear of igniting that temper. He needs help. How do I—
The door flies open, and a bunch of flowers appear, Shelley behind them. “Delivery for Amelia,” she sings, dumping them on my desk. “Tell me, what does a girl have to do to get this kind of attention from a man?”
I flick a sardonic look at her as I take the card and open it. And groan.
“God, you’re ungrateful,” she says over a laugh.
“They’re from my ex.”
“Sounds like he doesn’t want to be your ex.”
I give her tired eyes and drop the card in the bin.Notmy bag so it can be found. “Don’t suppose you know how Leighton’s meeting with Kimpton went, do you?”
Shelley’s eyes sparkle, delighted, and she comes closer, looking back over her shoulder. “Kimpton emailed Gary this morning,” she whispers. “He didn’t like Leighton.”
“No.” I lean over my desk, interested.
“Yes.” She pouts, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “What were his exact words? Oh, yes, that’s it. Not hiscup of tea.”
I chuckle. “Wise man.”
“Oh, someone’s popular.” Leighton slinks in, and Shelley and I bolt upright, throwing each other secret smirks. Helping himself to the flowers, he checks them out, sniffing. “I thought you’d broken up with your boyfriend.”
I start tapping my pen on the edge of my desk, getting worked up. Trying not to, but still. He rubs me up the wrong way. “I have. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a call.” Shelley takes the hint and scarpers, but Leighton lingers. I scowl at him. “How did your meeting go with Kimpton?”
“Oh, great.” He smirks so wide. So fake. “Must go, I’ve got a follow-up with him shortly.”
“Prick,” I murmur as he disappears, reaching for my phone when it rings. “Dad?” I say in answer. He never calls me in the day. Never.
“Are you talking to me yet?”
“Depends if you’re going to tell me how to live my life.”
