Steadfast (True North, #2)

by Sarina Bowen

Two weeks ago I’d assumed that our friendship had been permanently damaged by our worst date ever. But somehow that hadn’t happened. Instead, he’d asked out a girl from the accounting department. And she’d said yes. They were going out for a second time tomorrow.

Sophie was rattled, and I didn’t like knowing that I was the cause. Maybe that sounded vain, but I knew my girl. She was the kind of person who could get up on stage in front of hundreds and rock a complicated vocal solo without a single quavering note. She was a rock. But both times I’d worked in this kitchen, she’d come unglued.

I stared him down for a second. After all, what was the use of being a convicted killer if you couldn’t scare people once in a while? There weren’t any other perks, that was for damned sure.

“Jude,” she said. My chest ached just hearing that word on her lips.

The fact that she was speaking to me at all was an unexpected gift.

“Where did you learn to cook?” “Prison kitchen.” Her eyes got so huge that I had to chuckle. Sophie swallowed. “Ask a stupid question…”

“When have I ever been nice?” Except to you. That went without saying. I was always nice to Sophie, because she’d treated me like I mattered.

Standing there in the kitchen, I groaned aloud. Nobody was listening to me, though. Nobody ever did.

“I don’t live here for the free rent. I’m here for Mom. She’s a wreck, and you don’t seem to care.”

“You’re the very last thing I need today.” He didn’t even look offended. Not one iota. “That is true about ninety-nine percent of the time. But it’s Thursday, so it’s not true right now.”

“What? You’re, like, a better man on Thursdays? “That’s right.”

This was probably why I slid onto the passenger’s seat. My ex-con ex-boyfriend—a drug addict and convicted man-slaughterer—flashed me his happy trail and I got into his car.

The last time he’d had a member of my family in my car, there’d been a funeral three days later.

How on earth did people move on? The times I’d had with Jude were just too hot to fade from my memory.

Nobody there had any hope.” “Except for you?” I asked, making myself sound even more naive than I’d already proven to be. “Not even me,” he said firmly. “Especially not me.”

he reached into the back seat for the pumpkin cake (flashing his abs again!) and got out of the car.

“Easy, Maeve,” he said, holding the little person up to his face. “You okay? Do you remember me?” “Yood,” the little girl said affirmatively. “Close enough,”

I’d never seen him hold a child. She looked small against his broad chest. The sight of her there made my own chest shimmy.

I’d wanted to be the girl who tamed the wild boy. I pictured his tattooed arm rubbing my pregnant belly, and then holding my child against his bare chest.

Jude said, reaching back to catch my hand in his. The sensation of his fingers closing over mine made me feel even more muddled than I already was.

The moment Jude went through the door, more voices called his name. I followed just in time to see May Shipley hug-tackle him.

“Got that?” Jude joked after the introductions were made. “No,” I said, and everyone laughed.

I couldn’t stop tracking Jude as he moved around the room greeting people. He looked comfortable and happy. My heart splintered every time he smiled.

Look at me, I have friends who aren’t druggies. I’m such a winner. But of course it was a goddamned lie. Just because the people in this room hadn’t seen me at my worst didn’t mean that they were really mine.

I wore the memory of Sophie like an imprint on my soul.

“You never know. Maybe you two need each other.” “Don’t say that,” I muttered. “Nobody needs this.”

“Am I Eeyore?” I asked immediately. May rolled her eyes. “Too obvious. Try again.”

Zach stood at the dessert table, a scrap of paper taped to his head. It read: Zac Efron. “Let me guess. The twins did yours?”

“Don’t ask the former cult member for help with cultural trivia. But I’m pretty sure yours isn’t cool.”

“Miley Cyrus? You made me the worst singer to ever sell a million records? You are such a shit, Jude Nickel.” She slapped my arm.

“Why does May call you Eeyore?” I snorted. “I don’t know. It’s just our shtick.” “Are you guys a thing?” The question made me sit back in surprise. “No way.” “How come?” Because we’re both in love with other people.

“I know I screwed up badly, Soph. But if you ever needed my help, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I only raised a hand to push a lock of hair out of her face. That was my fatal mistake. Because everything changed when I touched her.

Kissing her wasn’t a decision I made. It was just inevitable,

I kissed her so slowly. Once. Then twice. Even in my haze of yearning I knew I should memorize every second.

The first time I ever kissed Sophie was in a car in the rain. That kiss had made my blood surge with lust and hope. But this one made me ache with impossible longing.

this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. We weren’t supposed to happen. It killed me, but I gentled the kiss.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” I whispered. “Be well.”

I got ready for bed. Wearing an old T-shirt and flannel shorts, I climbed into my bed in the dark. The T-shirt I’d grabbed was Jude’s, of course. I’d stolen his Phish shirt a long time ago when we were still in high school. But it still reminded me of him. Everything reminded me of him.

Kissing Jude had been a terrible idea. It was bad enough that I missed having him in my life. I already had the guilt of pining for the guy who killed my brother.

“The chief already assumes the worst. I need to be able to look that fucker in the eye and know I didn’t have sex with his baby girl before she turned eighteen.”

“I’m counting the days until my birthday,” she grumbles.

And I’m not Cinderella. You want to throw a temper tantrum in your dining room? Fine. But don’t expect me to get the stains out.” “Bitch.” He moved so fast I didn’t see it coming. A loud slap rang out as the side of my face combusted in pain.

Something had to give. But the something was always me.

one cheek was redder than the other. Was that a handprint? I pushed the hair away from her face for a closer look. “What the fuck?” I whispered. “Who did that?” “Who do you think?” Her words were like little chips of ice. Jesus. “Your father?” With a gentle thumb, I traced the outline of what must have been a horrible slap.

She tasted like Sophie. She tasted like the best thing that had ever happened to me.

There was no way in hell that Sophie and I could be together. It didn’t matter that I was still in love with her. And it didn’t matter that we had always had the sort of combustible attraction for one another that was immortalized in rock songs.

we want each other.” “Not all the things we want are good for us.” “No kidding. But who does it hurt?” Me, I thought immediately.

“Soph, I’d give you anything. But I don’t have a lot to give.”

“I haven’t been properly fucked in three years, Jude. After all that’s happened, are you going to make me beg?”