I pulled on a tank top, my shorts, and grabbed a plaid shirt for extra warmth. It might’ve been spring, but that didn’t mean it was warm all the time, and with the shorts I could use the extra layer of clothing.
Jude licked his lips, staring at my long legs. “God you’re gorgeous.”
“If you keep telling me things like that I might end up getting full of myself. A bit like someone else I know,” I winked.
He chuckled and leaned back on my bed, resting on his elbows. “There’s nothing wrong with being confident.”
I walked over to him and climbed on the bed, straddling his lap. He grinned, thinking I was up to something. I really just wanted to see his injured eye up close. I reached out to tenderly stroke the skin and he flinched away from my touch. I frowned. “Does it hurt?”
He shrugged. “Not too bad.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to be such a guy. You can tell me if it hurts.”
“It hurts,” he sighed. Brightening, he grinned crookedly. “Are you going to kiss it and make it better?”
“Maybe,” I smiled, and leaned in ever so slowly. I pressed my lips against the tender and swollen skin. His breath hissed out and I immediately pulled back. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. “Sorry,” I frowned.
“It’s okay,” he sighed, smoothing his fingers through my hair. “You didn’t mean to hurt me.” He chuckled, grinning widely as his eyes flicked down. “I really like this position. Your breasts look great from here.”
I rolled my eyes. Such a guy.
“Should I say thank you? Or hit you? Because I’m not quite sure.”
He laughed heartily, but before he could reply the door to my room flew open. I hadn’t bothered to lock it. I hadn’t thought it was an issue. I was wrong.
“Tatum!” My dad bellowed. Standing in the doorway he looked like a raging bull. His face was red, but it was quickly turning purple. A vein in his forehead throbbed, ready to burst. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in my house with this boy?!” His fists clenched so hard at his sides that the knuckles turned white.
I slid off Jude’s lap and stood. He stood up too, positioning his body so that he was in front of me, protecting me.
“Sir—”
“You will not speak!” My dad yelled at Jude. “You are not welcome in my house! Get out!”
I couldn’t figure out why he hated Jude so much, I guessed it really didn’t matter, I just knew it wasn’t for the same reason I’d hated Jude for so long. The man clearly wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I didn’t understand why he was suddenly coming home so often. It used to be rare for him to come home, and when he did he seemed to time it so he knew I wasn’t home. It was like that day he told me I seemed happy something changed in him. Like, if he was still miserable, then I had to be too.
“Sir,” Jude repeated, his tone calm. I could tell from his stance and the slope of his shoulders that he was anything but calm. I knew that if it came to it, he wouldn’t hesitate to hit my father to protect me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re leaving! I’m a lawyer! I know my rights and you need to get out before I call the cops!”
“Then she’s coming with me.” Jude reached behind to grab onto my hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. I hadn’t realized it until he touched me, but I was shaking.
My dad’s face went from purple to blue. I thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. He opened his mouth to start yelling again and this time I couldn’t mistake the stench of alcohol on his breath. He reeked.
“I want you away from my daughter! You are a no good son of a bitch from the wrong side of the tracks! She,” my dad thrust a finger in my direction, “is an O’Connor! She will not end up with a scumbag like you!”
“Pardon me, sir,” Jude sneered, “but who’s the real scumbag here?” He looked my father up and down significantly. “The guy who cares about your daughter? Or the father who’s yelling at her and looks like he’d love to put his fist to her face?”
“You!” My dad screamed rearing back to attack Jude. He was drunk though and therefore his movements were slow.
Jude beat him to it, tackling him to the ground. My dad was stunned by the turn of events and didn’t seem to know what to do with himself.
“Come on,” Jude reached for my hand. I gave it to him and he pulled me past my dad who still lay on the ground. He was starting to try to get up, though. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He all but pulled me down the steps. I couldn’t seem to get my feet to move.
I was numb. Lost. Floating.
I didn’t know how to handle what had transpired.