Page 75 of Steadfast
When I’d seen Jude’s name on the list, I’d stopped breathing.
Denny was here today because I’d called him in. A social worker can’t take a case if the patient has a personal connection to her. After I found Jude and realized that he’d been given narcotics against his will, I’d called Denny in a panic.
“Suboxone works,” Denny said now. “It’s pretty cool, actually.”
“Yeah?” I felt my shoulders begin to unclench. “He looks better?”
He nodded, his face grave. “He looks like himself again.”
“That’s amazing.” I felt the sudden urge to cry. When I saw what the hospital had done to him—giving him the very substance he’d spent six months avoiding—I’d just wanted to break something.
“He knows all the things you’re doing for him.” Denny frowned, chewing his lip. He seemed to be biting back some sort of criticism.Quelle surprise. There was no planet on which Denny and Jude would understand each other.
“…but he was an asshole to you?” I guessed. “You can tell me. I won’t even be surprised.”
Denny shook his head. “He was polite to me.”
“Then why do you look like you just ate a vomit-flavored jellybean?”
A disgusted grimace crossed his face. “Is that a thing?”
“It’s a thing. Now what are you trying not to say?”
He shrugged. “I asked him to call you and he said he would ‘eventually.’”
Well, ouch. “Jude is probably in a lot of pain,” I said to cover my reaction.
“I’m sure he is,” Denny quickly agreed.
“He doesn’t want me to see him that way.”
His face softened. “Truthfully, if I spent the day puking, I wouldn’t really want you to witness it, either.”
Aw. I was just going to put my disappointment out of my mind for one more night. So I changed the subject. “Did he tell you who beat him up?”
Denny flinched. “Let’s go get some dinner somewhere and we’ll talk about it. It’s late and I’m starved.”
It was Christmas Eve. No doubt my parents were at home wondering when I would turn up to make dinner. To keep the charade alive for one more day. But tonight I just didn’t have it in me. “Sure,” I agreed. “Let’s do it.
* * *
We drove backto Colebury for dinner, parking our separate cars on the street by the church, then convening on the cold sidewalk to decide where to eat.
Neither Denny nor I was willing to suggest Pete’s Tavern, because that was where we’d been headed on the night of our disaster date. So we ended up at our town’s burrito joint. Nobody called it a Mexican restaurant, because everyone knows you can’t get real Mexican food in Vermont. Case in point: Denny ordered the Thai wrap.
When we were finished, Denny tried to pay but I’d already handed my credit card to the waitress.
“How did you do that?” he asked. “She hadn’t even brought the check.”
I wiggled my fingers in the air. “Fast hands. Now tell me already—who beat up Jude?”
Denny wiped his mouth carefully and sighed. “It’s not clear. But the men were looking for some kind of drug stash that’s been missing for three years. Jude doesn’t have a clue who they are, but he told them once already that he didn’t know a thing about it.”
“And they beat him up anyway?”
“I guess they thought he was lying.” He cleared his throat. “Jude is going to report his assault to the police. Whoever put him in the hospital is looking for something that he doesn’t have. But here’s the thing—he thinks they know who you are, too.”
Wellthatgave me a new shiver. “That’s crazy. I don’t have anything that Jude’s old friends would want.”
