Page 36 of Jude

‘Your stepdad agrees,’ Maggie added.

‘I do?’ Kian rasped with an arched brow.

Maggie dug him in the ribs. ‘You said yourself last night that Sofia is perfect for Jude.’

I cursed under my breath. ‘Fuck, will you two stop?’

‘No, we won’t,’ Maggie went on. ‘Remember it’s Kian who knew putting a guitar in your hands would save your soul. He also was on your butt for years, as was I, to keep you from becoming the world’s most grumpy delinquent.’

‘Delinquent?’ Sofia asked, her eyes falling on me.

I shrugged.

‘I may or may not have taken drugs, and ridden with the worst crew on the Northern Beaches in Sydney. I even broke into Kian’s house and stole his shit before he chased me down and almost beat my shit up.’

Sofia’s eyes danced. Is that right?’

‘I straightened him. It took a few attempts over the years, but he’s living proof his mother and I kicked his ass into success,’ Kian rasped, his eyes glinting.

Maggie nodded. ‘See? We know what’s best for you, honey.’

Their smugness was almost too much to bear.

I shot my mother a glare and lost myself in the flavors of the golden dough, crisp on the outside with molten cheese and savory pasta within.

Choosing brooding silence, I ignored the trio as Sofia asked Kian a question.

‘I noticed you’ve got surfboards displayed in your hallway and photos of you in the water; is that really you?

Kian grinned and set off talking about his favorite topic, his love for the water.

When I was too full for another bite, I eased my plate away.

Pulling up my laptop, scrolling through Delta’s departure schedules, I glanced across the table at Sofia.

‘I need to book my flight back to Nashville, and we have to figure out where you’ll stay now.’

‘Of course,’ Sofia murmured.

Just then, her cracked phone, which Kian had let her keep, buzzed on the table beside her.

Sofia picked it up, read the screen, and dropped the device as if the plastic burned her fingers.

Her face drained of all color.

‘Here, let me see,’ I growled, reaching across the table to snag the phone.

The text message was brief, cold, and explicit:

D: We know the Sheriff in Vermont has you. His badge won’t stop us from finding you wherever he stashes you. If you get freed or deported and go back to Milan, we have capos at the bus stations and borders with orders to pick you up. Don’t try us.

Sofia shuddered as she drew a breath, her face a study in fear.

Without a second thought, I extended my arm across her shoulder.

‘Hey, don’t panic, we’ve got you.’

She nodded, her hands wringing on her lap.