Page 152 of Jude

‘Judah, look at you,’ she breathed, reaching for me. ‘You’re wasting away.’

‘I’m fine, Mom,’ I muttered, trying to back out of her reach.

‘Like hell you are,’ she snapped, her protective streak flaring. ‘You smell like you haven’t touched a bar of soap in a week. Move!’

She grabbed my arm, her grip firm as she marched me down the hall and up the stairs to the primary suite, shoving me into my bath.

She walked over to the shower stall, cranking the chrome handles until a thick fog of steam hit the glass enclosure.

‘Strip those dirty rags off and get under the water right now. Don’t test me, Judah. I’ll scrub your skin raw myself.’

I didn’t have the energy to fight her.

She shot me one last warning scowl and shut the door behind her.

I gave in, stripping down and letting the scalding water blast the filth and numbness off my skin.

Ten minutes later, I threw on a clean grey tank top and black gym shorts, then headed downstairs.

I stepped into the kitchen, where an iron skillet sat on the island counter, filled with sizzling steak strips, bell peppers, and garlic rice.

Maggie plated a generous portion and handed me a fork with an unyielding expression that brooked zero nonsense.

‘Eat!’

She glowered at me until I finished the plate.

Maggie sent me back to my room after dinner, where I crashed.

The first real meal I’d had in days, a scalding shower, and the baseline security of having my parents downstairs took the edge off my hypervigilance.

My body finally gave out, dropping me into black, dreamless sleep.

I cracked my grit-filled eyes open hours later, narrowing my gaze on my bedside clock, which glowed through the dark.

It was 9 p.m.

I groaned, dragging myself out of the sheets and into the bathroom to throw cold water on my face.

A few minutes later, I headed downstairs.

I stopped at the living room arch, my gaze falling on Maggie and Kian side by side on the sectional.

They were sharing a bowl of popcorn, laughing at a show on the giant screen.

Their quiet, unbroken closeness slammed me with memories of Sofia and me.

Eating off each other’s plates, trading banter, exchanging looks of longing and desire.

Fuck.

I crossed the rug and dropped into an armchair.

Maggie and Kian traded a look.

‘How are you, son?’ Kian asked, grabbing the remote and killing the sound.

I took an inhale and let it out.