There You Stand (11 page)

“You seem distracted, darling,” Grandma said while pouring some of her peach tea in a tall glass. “Who is he?”

I rushed my hand over my face. Somehow she always knew.

“I haven’t seen you this bad in a long time,” she said, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Yeah?” I said. “How long?”

She thought about it a moment. “I think you know as well as I do what my answer is going to be.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, sipping the sweet concoction. “But this time, it’s way more complicated.”

“Talk to me, darling.” She sat down and pulled out her deck of cards. She always played solitaire at the kitchen table. She said it helped get her thoughts organized.

My grandmother had always been the one person I sought out for heart-to-hearts. She was also the first person I came out to as a teenager. I just knew she’d understand. She always gave good advice and I figured I had nothing to lose.

“There’s this guy who came into town a few months ago.” I took a deep breath. “He works at the Board Room and skates at the park.”

Grandma’s eyebrows lifted. “Jude York?”

“How did you—” I stopped myself. Stupid question. Not only did those ladies get together for their weekly game of cards but they knew all the town’s gossip as well.

“Anyway,” I said and she smiled. “He’s been coming into the shop. I’m inking a large tattoo on his back so it’ll take a few appointments to finish.”

“And you like him more with each visit,” she said.

“Something like that,” I said, pausing. “It was a struggle to get him to talk at the beginning, still is.”

“Do you think he feels the same way about you?” she asked, looking down at her row of cards.

I shrugged. Then I decided I needed to tell somebody. Or I would lose my mind.

“Thing is, his past seems pretty messy and I’m not sure what his story is. I’m afraid I’m in over my head.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. No judgment. No fear. “He does seem to have plenty of rumors swirling around him.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “Guess you’ve heard all of that stuff, too.”

“Take the time to understand Jude. And maybe give him the benefit of the doubt,” she said, patting my hand. “Sometimes things aren’t always as they seem. Just . . . be careful, especially with your heart.”

“I will,” I said.

***

It was Thursday night, so after visiting with my grandmother, I met the Raw Ink crew up at Zach’s Bar. I only considered heading to the Hog’s Den for a split second before giving up on the idea. Besides, I needed to connect with my friends.

Keeping my distance from the MC was the right decision even though it was killing me to figure out what had Jude so freaked. But it was like coming upon a locked door time and again with no solid way inside.

Besides, I didn’t want the Disciples to think I was heading to the bar for the wrong reasons. At least I thought my logic was valid. It had become so twisted in my brain that I couldn’t even think straight.

“Hey, man,” Dex said, and I could already tell he was a pitcher deep.

“Good to see you,” Jessie’s boyfriend, Nate, said. I settled into a seat across from them. Emmy was nursing a drink next to me and gave me a small smile.

“You seem off lately,” Jessie said after scrutinizing me across the table. “You okay?”

God, what was with everybody? Couldn’t I be a little more quiet and introspective without people getting on my case?

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“Still having issues with your back?” Jessie asked.

“Actually, it’s been better the last couple of days.” I thought about Jude and the tennis balls and tried hard to hide my smile. “But still think I’ll call the holistic center.”

Jessie nodded. “They’ll hook you up. They have plenty of patients with messed-up spines.”

“Why do you have problems anyway, bro?” Bennett asked. “Something happen to your back?”

“From his accident,” Dex slurred into his beer and I stiffened. I probably should’ve guessed the day would come when he’d blurt shit out about me.

For the life of me I couldn’t get my mouth unstuck, so I just narrowed my eyes at him. He was oblivious, though, and when Bennett continued to look confused he said, “It happened before we came to work at Raw Ink. His boyfriend, he . . .”

Even in a drunken state it was difficult to say the words, apparently. His gaze swung to mine and right away he realized his mistake. “Fuck, Cory, sorry. Can’t take my drunk ass anywhere.”

The whole table grew silent as if they knew this was something big. But things felt different now. I was different. So I just shrugged and let it out. Besides these guys were like an extension of my family, I should’ve told them a long time ago. “Nah, it’s cool, man. It was a motorcycle accident. My boyfriend at the time . . .”

“The love of his life,” Dex mumbled and his beer spilled down his shirt. Dumb fuck.

“David,” I said, his name rolling off my tongue. It sliced my gut a little less this time. “He died.”

Emmy gasped and immediately threw an arm around me. “Cory, we didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

Jessie looked stricken and she reached out her hand.

“It was over three years ago, guys,” I said, eyeing each one of my friends. “But thanks.”

Bennett’s eyes softened. “So your back hasn’t hurt since then?”

“It has, just not like this,” I said. “But it’s all cool.”

I could tell they all had more questions but I had shared enough for tonight.

“Who’s up for a game of flip cup?” I said with a goofy grin on my face and everybody laughed.

Jessie shook her head. “Guess your back isn’t that sore.”

I had always played the role of the jokester in this dysfunctional family, but I didn’t think I could pull it off anymore. It was no longer effective anyway. Maybe it never was. The only benefit has been warding off dealing with my feelings for a short period of time.

But now everything seemed to mean more, weigh more. Like a heavy blanket that doused the light, but still created warmth.

After one round of that idiotic game, I noticed Emmy fidgeting next to me.

I nudged her and arched my eyebrows. Her gaze darted toward the door and I saw Tristan from the shelter enter the bar. He looked around anxiously so I lifted my hand and motioned for him to join us. Emmy smiled appreciatively at me.

“Hey, dude, glad you could come.” I gave up my seat so Tristan could sit near Emmy. She introduced him to the gang and I ordered him a beer.

After a while he seemed to settle in and I heard the two of them talking about classes and animal rights shit—in that regard, they were the perfect fit.

Jessie kept flashing me goofy grins because of how much Emmy was blushing. We were on the same page about another thing: If Tristan hurt her he’d better hide his ass, because we had a whole crew willing to take him out.

After a while, Emmy snapped out of her Tristan bubble and grinned at me. “Have you been trying that technique with Chopper?”

“What technique?” Dex asked, before I could shake my head to swear Emmy off the topic.

I wanted to pound Dex good tonight. But what did it matter anyway. Jude was only a friend. A friend who’d given me the most erotic blow job of my life. And whose lips I would’ve died to have anywhere on me again.

If only he wasn’t so afraid to allow anybody to get too close.

“Cory didn’t tell you?” Emmy said and I knocked her leg beneath the table. When she threw me a clueless look, I decided to be the one to explain.

“No big thing. Chopper was being a pain in the ass the other day at the new park, getting aggressive with the other dogs.”

“Actually he was trying to dominate Patch,” Emmy said.

“Patch from the shelter?” Tristan asked and then looked at Emmy. “Your Patch?”

Her eyes practically melted and I looked away from their moment. Too sugary sweet.

“He won’t be mine for long,” she said, pouting. There had been a pre-visit with a new family this week, but I didn’t have a good feeling about them, either.

“So what’s this about a technique?” Tristan asked.

“So Jude York hopped over the fence from the skate park and saved the day,” Emmy said, transporting me back to that moment when Jude had scaled the railing. His instincts had been innate and I could almost picture him on that farm. Almost. It didn’t exactly jibe with his city-boy skateboard persona. Confusing.

The whole table grew silent and stared at us.

“What am I missing?” I heard Tristan lean over and ask Emmy. Seems not everybody was in on the town gossip.

“Jude York?” Nate said. “Emo skater dude?”

Jessie burst out laughing and I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Oh here we go,” Dex said into his beer, remembering all too well how I snapped at him a couple of weeks back.

“He’s not emo,” I said, and I realized how defensive I sounded, so I toned it down. “He’s just quiet.”

“Does he talk in your sessions?” Bennett asked and I shrugged. I could tell he was just curious but it felt difficult to explain.

“Or do you talk his goddamn ear off?” Dex said, smirking. “Because dude, you can
talk
.”

I felt a line of heat crawl across my neck.

“Look who the fuck can’t shut his trap tonight?” I said and Jessie cracked up.

“Anyway, seems he and Cory have become friends,” Emmy said as if she knew the ins and outs of our relationship. “And he knows his dogs. Said he grew up on a farm.”

I let her friendship comment go and filled in more of the blanks. “He has this way with dogs. Chopper should’ve been left on his doorstep instead of mine.”

Jessie’s eyebrow arched and I was thankfully saved by Tristan. “So what was his technique?”

“He used some kind of noise and rolled Chopper on his side,” Emmy said.

“Ah, the dominance down technique,” Tristan said. “Hotly debated method but in my opinion, effective if it’s done to command respect without too much aggression.”

“Oh those dogs respected him for sure,” she said. “He had a quiet, gentle way about him. Don’t you think, Cory?”

I nodded absently, thinking about Jude and his subdued and gentle mannerisms.

“Yeah?” Bennett said. “Does it work?”

“Works great for him,” I said and Bennett laughed. “But I’m still figuring it out.”

“Does anyone else feel like they’ve just stepped into the twilight zone?” Jessie said.

“Whatever,” I said. “Just goes to show you shouldn’t judge anyone until you get to know them.”

Jessie leaned over. “I think somebody’s got a crush.”

“I think I’m going to kick your ass,” I said and she grinned.

“It’s nice to see you like this, Cory.”

“Like how?”

“Maybe . . .
grounded
is the word.”

Conflicted was more like it.

The following week, I had a full day of appointments. I’d managed to stay away from the Hog’s Den, but I hadn’t kept away from the park. I watched Jude and his skate buddies perform their tricks and when I sat on a bench closer to the bowl, I heard their chatter about the upcoming extreme games.

Jude was undertaking some maneuvers that might’ve been inspired by his excitement about the event coming to town and during breaks he’d come visit Chopper and Ace, though I hoped it was also to see me. He’d kneel down and pet my dogs and we’d make small talk. The tension between us was crazy thick but we just acted like acquaintances.

I only once attempted to ask him about what he was so fearful of the other night before he shut me down, so I didn’t want to keep pushing it. I didn’t understand how Jude was linked to the Disciples and he wasn’t budging on telling me anything.

I also noticed and sometimes only heard that Smoke seemed to be patrolling Jude’s vicinity on his bike.

Jude was scheduled for his final tattoo appointment and I was feeling kind of bummed because it had become an enjoyable time for us together. Behind closed doors. Something we hadn’t experienced nearly enough.

We had shared some heart-stopping intimacy. But that was all it was, just brain-melting moments in time. And I wasn’t sure if you could string together moments to create a relationship. No matter how much I desperately wished for that chance.

He was my second-to-last appointment of the day and the tattoo on his back was really shaping up to be something striking. The branches ghosting out in different directions were as forbidding as they were breathtaking—just like Jude.

He lay on my table in the usual position, gazing at me while I worked. There was more of a gentle effortlessness between us now. Depending on the topic, I wasn’t wrenching answers from him any longer.

And there was a winging in my chest upon hearing his voice. Every single time.

“Is this a tree from your childhood?” I asked. “Maybe from that farm you talked about?”

He nodded, his lips quirking into a grin. “It was in northern Yorkshire.”

Yorkshire? I allowed that word to roll off my tongue. I felt a niggling deep in my gut that I couldn’t quite shake. Something about it felt off. Strange. Jude’s last name was York, after all.

“My sister liked to watch me climb it,” he said, his gruff voice now laced with sorrow.

“Sounds like it was a good memory, though,” I mumbled, still trying to fit all the pieces together in my brain.

“One of the last times I remember being happy,” he said, his chin quivering, his voice barely above a whisper. “And innocent.”

He shut his eyes on that statement and melancholy clawed at my chest.

“Jude,” I said, giving the needle a break from his skin and shifting toward him. My fingers stroked his cheek. He inhaled a breath and opened his eyes.

“Does your sister live in the States?” I asked as my thumb skimmed across his chin and down to his throat.

“She was always ill,” he said, his voice cracking. “Cystic fibrosis.”

My stomach seized up and without him even expressing it out loud, I knew his sister was no longer in this world. Fuck, had Jude experienced a shitty life.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Is that why you guys moved to the States?”

“A new start at life,” he said in a morose tone. Then he took a fortifying breath as if to gather the pieces of himself together. “First we moved to the city. Outside of London. I loved it there. That’s where Mum had met an American businessman.”

“Your stepfather?”

His lips drew together in a tight line.

Jude was sharing himself with me and for that I was grateful, but I knew how this story ended and the idea of it made me gloomy and miserable.

“What kind of business was he involved in?”

“When he first met my mum he said he was an investor in several different ventures. Restaurants and bars.” His eyes darkened to a stormy green. “He was always perfectly dressed, busy on his phone, and in meetings. All seemed perfectly legit.”

I stared at him, waiting for the fallout. “So that wasn’t true?”

He shrugged but the gesture didn’t match the bleakness in his eyes. “Most of it, sure.”

“And the rest?”

“None of it noble,” he said, practically spitting out the words. “Turns out he was a ruthless businessman. Expert at getting what he wanted, bending people to his will.”

“Fuck,” I whispered and then I saw how the light was extinguished from his gaze. His eyes had transformed to flat jade orbs and he had gone off somewhere in his own head.

Before he shut me out completely, I attempted to ease us in a different direction. “There’s got to be other happy moments in your life. Tell me about another one.”

“The first time I got on a skateboard,” he said, a slight glimmer returning. “I was about sixteen on the streets in London. When we moved to the States that had become my escape. When I’m on my board, my mind goes into some kind of zone.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

“With your art?”

“Yeah, except I kind of lost myself a bit along the way the last couple of years.”

He nodded in understanding and I felt in tune with him. In harmony. And it was completely invigorating.

“I can name another cheerful time,” he said with a smirk.

My fingers were resting on his shoulder and I lifted my thumb to his chin. “Yeah?”

His head tilted to the side. “When some crazy-arse tattoo artist is talking my ear off because he can’t put a sock in it.”

My breath caught in the back of my throat and I nearly toppled off my stool. “Are you admitting you like being around me?”

His cheeks streaked pink and he looked away, seeming so young and innocent. “When you’re not talking rubbish maybe.”

“Best be careful, I’m holding an arsenal of needles,” I said and he laughed. Fuck, I loved that laugh. “Besides, I’m able to keep my lips sealed more when I’m with you.”

“Is that
you
divulging something?”

“Yeah, guess so.” My body became stationary as I thought it through. “When you’re around, that quiet stillness inside me doesn’t feel so lonely.”

His eyes softened and there was so much passion in his gaze. I wanted to stand up, reach for his hand, and walk the hell out of here. Go somewhere private and take the time to get to know each other more intimately. We had yet to have that opportunity and it was killing me.

“Jude,” I said, moving closer. “I think we should—”

There was a knock on the door and Emmy entered the room. “Food was delivered. I’m just going to leave your sandwich here.”

As she turned toward the door, I noticed how she kept her gaze cast downward and her eyes were red as if she’d been upset.

“Hey wait,” I said, standing up and moving toward her. “Everything cool?”

“It’s Patch,” she whispered and her shoulders slumped. “Remember the family that’s been visiting with him? That boy that you said is too rough with him?”

“Yeah,” I said and when I glanced back at Jude, his arms were propped up and he was paying close attention.

“They had a visit in the playroom today and according to Tristan the boy got rough and Patch nipped at him.”

“Damn,” I said. “Bet the family went crazy.”

“The mother filed a formal complaint and said they weren’t going to adopt.” She shrugged. “Since this is Patch’s second incident, he’s been placed on the list.”

I knew the exact list she was referring to.

“How is it the second incident?” I asked.

“When he first came in last year, he bit a worker who had approached his bowl while eating,” she said. “He’s an abused animal; they can get territorial.”

Patch seemed like such a mild animal in comparison to a dog like Chopper. But he was skittish, too, so maybe if he felt threatened, he retaliated the only way he knew how. “Hell, Emmy, I’m sorry.”

“If they can’t find the right fit in the next few weeks, he’ll have to be euthanized.”

She bit her lip to hold back tears and I pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered, momentarily forgetting that I was in a tattoo appointment with Jude. “It’ll all work out.”

“I don’t see how,” she said, pushing back from me. “It seems like an impossible situation.”

My heart clenched. I knew how much that dog meant to her. Emmy and I were alike in a lot of ways—we had no siblings and were raised by our grandparents. The exact reason we connected on a different level.

“Maybe it’s time you started looking for a place to live on your own,” I said. “So you can adopt him.”

“As of right now, I don’t have enough money saved for a down payment as well as first and last month’s rent,” she said. “I’m working on it, but until I graduate and get a decent job, not sure I can even afford my rent.”

“Maybe you can stay with Jessie,” I said.

“We already talked about it, but her landlord doesn’t allow pets, either.”

“How about if I take him?” I said, the idea rolling off my tongue too easily. What the hell was I even saying?

Her jaw dropped open. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would.”

“You’re the sweetest guy,” she said, gripping my hands. “But you already have two dogs and Chopper and Patch don’t exactly get along.”

She was right; I hadn’t exactly thought it through. “Let me think on it and finish this appointment with Jude. We’ll talk about it again later.”

I walked back to Jude’s table lost in thought.

“You like to take on others people’s problems,” he said.

My jaw ticked. “Is that how you see it?”

“You already have one dog that’s a pain in your arse.”

“Can’t help it,” I said, sighing. “She’s a good person.”

“You’re a good person, too.”

I stared at him a long while and then fired up the machine, noticing the time on the clock. “Thanks.”

The silence became deafening as I geared up to ask Jude when I could see him again. In private. But even with the situation at the Board Room the other night, he was always on edge and I needed to know if anything was ever going to be possible between us. If the answer was no, I needed to know why not. I needed to know the truth.

“Did you ever figure out what that noise was the other night at the shop?”

He shook his head. “Could’ve been nothing.”

“Either you’re paranoid or something is going down,” I said, gentling my voice. “I’d like to know what it is.”

He just stared at me.

“I’ve already been seen with you, Jude. I need to be able to decide some things for myself.”

His eyes became wide. “The club’s got your back.”

“The club?” I said, remembering Smoke outside that night and pretty much everywhere lately. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s just . . . you’re already under their protection,” he said. “Because of me. This is exactly why I didn’t want—”

“Damn it Jude, what are you involved in?” I said before I could tame the words busting from my lips.

He face turned red and he tightened his knuckles. “Is that what you think—that I’m doing something illegal?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said trying to control my voice and my emotions. “You tell me your mom is dead and your stepfather had something to do with it.”

He pounded his fist into the table. “I never told you that.”

I threw up my hand in frustration. “It wasn’t hard to guess.”

He sat up suddenly, fear evident in his eyes. But we had gotten this far and I needed to know the rest.

“Is he affiliated with the Disciples in some way?”

“He’s . . . had some past dealings with them,” he swallowed roughly and shook his head, the words emerging slow and uneven. “But now, he’s more an enemy. The club doesn’t trust him.”

I rolled that information around in my brain. “And you came to this town to seek their security?”

He shut his eyes tight, as if regretting this conversation. Maybe even regretting meeting me. “Something like that.”

“Goddamn it, why do I have to play guessing games with you?”

“Because I don’t want your life to be in danger,” he bit out. “Simply from associating with me.”

“It’s too late, I’m already involved,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Are you saying your stepfather will come here looking for you?”

“I haven’t seen him in years,” he said. “The club thinks it’s unlikely.”

If the Disciples didn’t think so then why was he under their protection? Unless they were covering their bases—just in case.

“But I know that bloody bastard. I lived with him . . . was forced to do his . . .” He bolted up to his full height, his breath shooting out in hard gasps. “I’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

“We haven’t even finished your tattoo,” I said, alarm rising in my chest.

He stopped in the middle of the room, with his shirt dangling from his fingers.

“At least let me bandage you up,” I said in a soothing tone, trying like hell to help him calm down. I knew there was no use pushing him any further. We were done.

Probably for good.

Sadness sat like an enormous burden on my chest—for Jude, for us, for what he’d had to endure in his life. So much so that he was constantly running and in fear for his life.

As soon as the wrap was applied, he tugged on his shirt, and left without a backward glance.