Blue Notes (24 page)

She smiles.

“What?” I ask.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me that, Miss Priss,” she says, her smile more genuine now.

I stick my tongue out. “Addie . . . consider telling Jude yourself. Will you? He loves you so much, and I know you think it’s smothering . . . but trust me,
not
having someone to smother you is a lot worse.”

Her hazel eyes turn canny. “There’s a story behind that line, isn’t there?”

“Yeah. But no more stories for today. We need another milkshake.”

 Thirty-Two 

M
y promise to Addie is put to the test the next time I see Jude, when he takes me to the annual Po’Boy festival on Oak Street. It was so much fun, and we even stay for the awards. He rooted for some overflowing oyster concoction from a place called Mama’s, while I liked my Louisiana spicy sausage, served “hot” with Cajun mustard. He didn’t think I could eat something that flaming, but the burn was as good as the sandwich was tasty. In the end neither of our favorites won. That didn’t matter when we shared a piece of crème brûlée cheesecake that had been caramelized with molasses.

I’m getting really uneasy, though, about balancing time with him against my goals for the semester. Yes, I’m obsessed with him, but I’ve been obsessed with my music for a lot longer. Maybe the urge to spend as many hours as possible with him comes from that: my music will always be there for me. Jude, no matter how good he is and how much fun we’re having, is not a sure thing.

Neither is doing well at the Fall Finish. . . .

Around and around and around goes my head.

He and I are curled on his giant sectional. We’re naked, with a blanket covering us. I’ve been texting Adelaide for the last half hour, missing the end of whatever action movie Jude is streaming.

He teases me, trying to grab my phone. “Keeley, what is going on?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“Wait,” he says, sobering. The blanket slips when he sits up, revealing his bare chest. I’ve seen him in daylight plenty of times now, but I still like him best when wrapped in nighttime. It’s where we met. It’s where we can hide away from shitty things like reality. “That wasn’t a flippant answer. Something
is
going on.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“It’s Addie, isn’t it? She’s been acting so weird the last two days and she won’t return my calls.”

He eyes me with an expression I’ve decided he must use in boardrooms. It used to intimidate the hell out of me. He looks so
serious
and scary-powerful. That was weeks ago. Now I know he can try it on me, but there’s nothing he can do to threaten me . . . short of breaking up.

The nuclear option, I suppose.

“What happened? She told you, didn’t she? Whatever’s been going on? Maybe you two don’t think it’s a big deal to keep secrets, but she worries me sick.”

I touch his face, palm to cheek. He leans against it as his eyes roll closed. “I’m sorry. I know you worry,” I say. “My bond with her isn’t as strong as yours, obviously, but she’s becoming really special to me. I’d be worried too, if she didn’t text or return my calls.”

He nods to my phone. “Apparently that isn’t a problem.”

“Because she’s not scared of what I’ll say.” I take a deep breath. “She’s scared of what
you’ll
say.”

Agitated now, he pulls out of my arms and stands. Before I can blink—blinded by the stark beauty of him naked—he tugs on his briefs and jeans. Maybe he thinks that’s being modest when we talk, but that means he doesn’t have a very high opinion of his chest. Then again, with his hair gilded by lamplight and his eyes flaming, I’ll have a hard time concentrating no matter what he wears.

Yet he looks sickened by his burdens, which calls to me on such a deep level. I want to stand and hold him and take away his cares until his stark frown disappears.

“Keeley, please,” he says harshly. “Give me a clue here.”

I sit up too, because there’s no way I can get through this conversation without being strong. Really strong. I have to protect two people I care about—by protecting them from each other. I grab my tank top where it got tossed to the floor, and shrug into it.

“No, Jude. I can’t.”

“What?”

“I said no. I’m not telling you anything.”

“Keeley—”

“What would happen if I told you and Adelaide found out I’d betrayed her confidence?”

“I’m her brother!” His shout is unexpected. I flinch and draw back. He’s never shown any sort of temper toward me. I know this is just his frustration cracking through, but I don’t like being on the receiving end of
anyone’s
temper. “I’m all she has and I deserve to know.”

“You’re her
brother
. Do you think she wants to tell you the nitty-gritty of her personal life if she’s embarrassed, or if she thinks she’ll get railed at? I wouldn’t open my mouth, and I sure as hell wouldn’t trust the person who’d blabbed.” I meet him where he’s pacing. The muscles of his forearm jump beneath my hand, before he exhales. That gives me permission of a sort. I start to pet the hair on his arm, so silky, when it gives him such a rough, masculine appearance. “You’ll lose her forever if you make me do this. We both know you could. You could figure out a way to get me to talk.”

He looks at his hand I’m holding and seems to force his fist to unclench. “Probably.”

“Then for all of us, I’m asking that you don’t try.”

With suddenness, he takes both of my hands in his. He kisses my knuckles in that endearing way of his. “Would you tell me . . . Dammit, Keeley . . . Would you tell me if she needed the police?”

My heart skips. Ouch. That was painful, as a reminder of my own past, but also as a look into Jude’s worst nightmare. His sister—hurt, alone, and too embarrassed and alienated to ask him for help. I can give him relief from that particular fear. “Yes, I would tell you that. She doesn’t, though. And maybe one day, she’ll tell you stuff on her own.”

“How? How do you know that?”

“Because I asked her to try confiding in you. And . . . because of my parents.”

I have to tell him
something
. Jude has been a patient teacher when it comes to physical intimacy, but he can’t help me with this. When will I finally feel okay about opening up about my life? For Jude, for Adelaide, and maybe even for me, I have to try.

“Clair and John have held on to me even when I was at my teenaged worst,” I continue tentatively. “I don’t know why they didn’t just throw up their hands sometimes. But they kept a schedule, expected me to do my part and pull good grades. I never stopped wanting to impress them, and I never wanted to disappoint them.” I lean nearer to him, needing his hands on me, his security layered over bits and pieces of my train-wreck past. “They didn’t have to say a word. They didn’t need to ask a ton of questions. They just needed to . . . be there. They held my hand until I trusted they’d never let go.”

My voice catches on that last. I want the hand I hold to be Jude’s. Clair and John have been amazing. They saved me when no one else thought to. Is it really ridiculously selfish that I want Jude to take over that role in my life now?

“She’s so damn stubborn, Keeley. I’ve done . . .” He runs his hands through his hair before curling me against him again. “Christ, what I’ve done for her. All that I could. I’ve tried too hard, haven’t I? Driven her away?”

“You’ve done the best you possibly could. You rearranged your entire life to give her stability. But . . .” I look up to kiss him. “You’re used to knowing everything and being in charge of hundreds of people. Her keeping secrets must seem like an insult. Or heartbreaking.”

“How did you know that?”

“I see you better than you think,” I say with a smile meant to soften his hard jaw. “You have to trust me. Can you do that?”

He nods and leans his forehead against my crown. I don’t think he realizes how hard he’s squeezing our twined fingers. “I can try. Will you tell her that? I’ll try.”

“I already did. But . . .” I lift our hands in front of me, clasping them tightly to my chest. “She gave me permission to tell you one thing. She isn’t seeing that creep Saunders anymore. She walked out on him. That’s enough for now, right?”

“Thank fuck,” he says under his breath. “But she really won’t talk to me about it? Hell, about anything?”

“Now? I don’t think so. You have to get her to believe you won’t let go, even when she makes mistakes.”

He exhales so heavily. “She’ll be expecting an inquisition. How do I not?”

“Tomorrow’s Friday night. She’ll be at Yamatam’s, of course. Give her a hug and ask what she’ll be playing. She never tells me.” I turn to catch his eye, smiling. “Did you know that? She shares all her tips and tricks, but not what’s coming up the next time she takes the stage. Where your talk goes from there is up to her.”

He looks so bewildered. I’m reminded again of how much he had to take on, on such short notice, and under such tragic circumstances. That Adelaide is in college and doing as well as she is—that’s Jude’s gift to her. Do either of them realize what a special bond they have? How lucky they are to have each other?

I wonder briefly what it would’ve been like to have a brother or sister when dealing with my parents. I’m envious of Jude and Adelaide, but I’d refuse a sibling in a heartbeat. I could never be that selfish, to force my upbringing on someone else, just so I would’ve had company through the bad times.

“Have you ever asked her? What she’ll play?”

“No,” he says with a slow shake of his head.

“You’ll shock her so much that maybe she’ll tell. And that would be something special?”

For a long time, he just rubs my upper back. Between that and the beat of his heart, I sway on my feet. He must realize, because he scoops me into his strong arms and walks me to his bedroom. Only when we’re nestled together under the covers does he speak again, in a whisper. “Keeley, she’s really all right?”

“She’s really all right,” I say, turning over to lie atop his chest. “And she’ll be better tomorrow, and the day after that.”

His smile is as tentative as I’ve ever seen. “Thank you, sugar.”

Okay, this deep, serious mood has got to go. Adelaide is rid of that creep. And I’m mostly naked and draped across a man who continually awes me. “Sugar again?” I tease him with a wink and the walk of my fingers up his ribs—his guaranteed tickle spot. “Now I know you’re back to yourself.”

“I haven’t felt like myself since I met you.” His voice is low and calm, his blue eyes are darkly earnest.

No fair.

So very,
very
not fair.

I was trying to liven things up, and he pulls out a phrase so melancholy romantic that I can’t take a steady breath. I close my eyes. I’m surrounded by him, and the image of his intent expression follows me into the dark behind my lids. I can’t look at him when I ask, “Good or bad thing?”

“Good thing.” He pauses long enough for me to risk peeking up at him. I should’ve known better. Jude Villars is a complicated man—and he’s still watching me. “A good thing and a hard thing.”

“Gee, thanks,” I force out.

“What do you need to hear from me right now?” He frames my face and kisses me so sweetly that a tear works out from the corner of each eye. “This isn’t you telling someone else’s secrets. But you can give me one of yours. Something you want but haven’t been able to say.”

I swallow. I force myself to meet his eyes. It’s a risk. He’s a smart, perceptive man. All he has to do is look deeply enough to see how hard I’ve fallen. “Just to hear that I’m your girl.”

For a moment, we’re suspended in space, time, air, gravity, forward, backward. None of it matters. We’re held by whatever is between us and all the things we can’t or won’t say. All the things we’re too afraid to say. I hope that’s what he feels, anyway. I hope I’m not the only one with a tender heart to protect.

“
Just?
” he says at last. His cocky smile is almost up to snuff. It’s forced, but I’m willing to take anything. “C’mon, sugar. Being my girl is a privilege.”

“Pig.”

“But you are, you know. You’re mine.”

He kisses me for what seems like forever, or a promise of forever. I’m his in every way, so I pretend he means it—really means it. But sometimes make believe isn’t strong enough to conceal reality, no matter how much I want it to. I kiss him back, forever and ever, while the voices in my head turn sweetness to ash on my tongue.

I’m yours.
But for how long?

God, Jude, for how long?