Page 56 of Infamous
No. That’s a lie.
I remember exactly when it was.
Lucian.
Everything always leads back to him, like gravity doesn’t apply to anyone else. Every time I let my guard down, every time I laugh, every time I feel even a flicker of something that might be happiness, my thoughts circle back to Lucian Cross.
No one’s ever measured up, because no one ever could.
And yet, sitting here now, across from Jude, I can’t help but feel that same dangerous pull. It’s familiar yet wrong all at once.
He leans back in his chair, the fabric of his shirt stretching across his chest. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, forearms resting casually on the table, veins running like quiet rivers beneath his skin. His hands are steady, capable, deceptively gentle and they’re wrapped around his cup.
Lucian’s hands were like that.
My throat tightens. I force myself to look away, but it’s too late; the resemblance has taken root.
Jude is bigger than Lucian ever was. He’s broader, fuller, but the shape of him, the way he moves, the small, unconscious gestures all strike something deep inside me. He looks different, but something about him feels deceptively familiar. A shadow I’ve already loved and lost.
I don’t understand it. I shouldn’t feel drawn to a stranger. But I do. And it terrifies me.
I press my palm to my cup to ground myself. The ceramic is cool now, but his gaze is still warm on my face. I meet it and try to smile. “This has been… nice,” I say softly, surprised by the truth in it. “I didn’t realize how much time has passed.”
He shoots me a small, crooked smile that sends a pulsethrough me. “You know what they say about time flying when you’re having a good time...”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You know, I think I’m actually going to take your advice.”
“About what?”
“The dinner.” I take a breath. “I’m going to decline the senator’s invitation. I’ll tell my boss tomorrow.”
His brows lift. “Even if it gets you fired?”
I shrug, trying to sound braver than I feel. “Is that the worst my boss can do to me? There are plenty of other hospitals. I shouldn’t have to compromise on my ethics.”
He studies me for a long moment. There’s something in his eyes I can’t place. It feels a lot like admiration.
“That’s a rare kind of courage, Nadia.”
“It’s not courage,” I say, half-smiling. “It’s exhaustion. There’s a difference.”
He laughs under his breath, and the sound ripples through the space between us. I glance at his mouth, at the faint scar on his jaw that catches the light, and my chest constricts. That scar looks… old. Familiar. I feel a strange tug in my memory, but I can’t place it.
“You know,” I say quietly, “you have this way of making things sound simple. Like the world isn’t as complicated as it actually is.”
“Maybe it isn’t,” he murmurs.
“Then you’ve never worked in a hospital,” I tease, and he grins - just enough to make me forget, for a heartbeat, that something about him doesn’t add up.
The clock on the wall ticks softly. Outside, rain whispers against the windows. I think about how close he feels even across the table, how dangerous it is to feel this kind of comfort with someone I barely know.
But I don’t stop. I don’t pull away. Because for the first time in years, the ghosts in my chest are quiet.
And the man sitting across from me - this stranger with kind eyes and a familiar smile - feels like the only person in the world who might understand what it’s like to live haunted.
35
LUCIAN
