“Touché,” Kicks muttered, fighting the urge to turn his head so he didn’t have to look at the man. “I guess I ain’t used to men like you, rabbi. With the Chains, what you see is what you get.”
Jude scoffed. “I very much doubt that. Especially you.”
Kicks raised his brows. “You think so?”
Jude met his gaze steadily. “Tell me something about you that you normally don’t tell strangers, and I’ll let you know if I’m…surprised.”
The man’s offer was too tempting. He could lie, of course. Or he could tell some innocuous truth like he only wore mismatched socks, or his favorite thing to do was get ice cream with Maddie on Sundays. Or that he won a prize two years back for the squash he’d grown in the shop garden. But he had a feeling none of those things would make the man blink twice.
“I like romance novels,” he offered instead and felt the tops of his cheeks burn.
The look Jude gave him couldn’t be described as anything but delighted, and it made Kicks squirm a little under the attention. “Which ones? Wait,” he said, tapping a finger on his chin, “don’t tell me. I can’t imagine you diving into a Bronte. Maybe not even Austen.” His brow furrowed like he was giving it actual thought, and Kicks wished he could take his stupid confession back. “Give me one title, and I’ll see if I know it.
Kicks rolled his eyes and rose, flopping onto the sofa and ignoring the cloud of dust it kicked up until he sneezed twice. He swiped his hand under his nose then glanced back at Jude who was still staring. “Jesus, I don’t remember their names. They all had the same guy on the cover and some woman with big tits. I used to sneak them when my mom was done reading them, and there were so damn many, she never noticed when one or two went missing. I thought I was gonna read porn the first time I grabbed one.” He shrugged and glanced away. “I guess I sorta did, but there was always something a little deeper about the story. You always knew how that shit was gonna turn out, you know? No matter what the guy did—the person he loved always forgave him. Like there was no sin not worth forgiving.”
Jude was painfully quiet, but Kicks didn’t look over. “I understand.”
Kicks nodded once, swallowing past a strange lump, then he cleared his throat before finally looking at the other man. “My mom would always pick up a new book every time we went grocery shopping. She kept them in a cardboard box under her bed, and every time we moved, she’d throw them on the lawn during the yard sale and sell them for a dime.”
Jude’s face softened, and he crossed the room, dragging the kitchen chair over so he could sit near the sofa. Kicks imagined he could feel the warmth of his body closer, and he wondered what fucking this man would be like.
Wild, probably. Unrestrained. Jude’s command would take over, and Kicks would give in to the thing he’d denied himself since the attack. And that was dangerous to even consider. His desire to let go and forget—for even a second—could ruin everything.
“Was it sad? Watching all those strangers take them?”
Kicks blinked. It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting, and it took him a second to form an answer. “I never really thought about it. We moved so damn much, and my parents hated taking useless shit with us, you know? So, whatever we could fit into a bag was all we got.”
Jude’s brow furrowed. “What kind of life is that?”
“The military kind,” Kicks said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He didn’t want Jude to see that the conversation was getting to him, but he couldn’t help it. The man had a way of stripping him down just by existing in the same room and he’d never experienced that before in his life. “I was an army brat.”
“Who grew up and joined the army?” Jude asked.
Kicks shrugged. “My older brother was a junkie who wasn’t gonna do it, so I figured why not me.”
“And then you got hurt,” Jude pointed out.
Kicks glanced to the side, let out a small breath, and knew there was no way he was going down that road. Not with him. Not there. “Anyway,” he said, not meeting Jude’s gaze, “I actually do like Austen. I ripped the cover off Sense and Sensibility and glued on a Frank Herbert one—snuck it into basic with me.” When Jude’s eyebrows rose, a sort of wheezy laugh escaped Kicks’ chest. “What? I liked it better than Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy was a dick.”
Jude’s head fell back, and he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Bloody brilliant,” he said when his laughter started to die off. “And fair. I prefer Emma.”
Kicks appreciated that Jude took the out and didn’t push for personal details. Talking about the army meant getting too close to that night, and that night wasn’t anyone’s fuckin’ business but his own. Shoving away the dark thoughts, he got to his feet again and wandered to the fridge. His hand was curling around the handle when he heard a disapproving hum from behind, and he turned, raising his brows at the other man.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
Kick’s face dropped into a scowl. “Is this some sort of moral bullshit, because I respect your whole…religious whatever,” he waved his hand in Jude’s direction, “but I’m not interested in…”
“I’m not bloody proselytizing,” Jude snapped. “You said we need to have our wits about us—that you weren’t sure if we were followed. I don’t know that it’s the smartest idea to get pissed if we need to make a quick get-away.”
Kicks’ spine stiffened. “You don’t think I don’t know how to navigate a situation after a couple of beers?”
“I think that we’re in a precarious position, and my life literally rests in your hands right now,” Jude answered him softly. “And I don’t trust you.”
It stung more than it should have, even if it was realistic. Jude didn’t know him, and this was a situation he’d never been in before. He wanted a drink more than ever now, to dull the frustration building, but a small part of him was ready to cave. There was no sense in making this man feel even worse than he had to—leaving all of his shit behind with no idea when he’d be able to get back to his life.
“Listen,” Jude said after a beat, and he pushed to stand, “why don’t I look round and see if I can cook us something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. “And well, it’s early afternoon. I suppose…one more won’t make much of a difference.”
Kicks grunted, and as much as he wanted it, more than that, he didn’t want Jude to think he was allowed to give concessions. “I’m gonna do a quick check around. Amuse yourself however the fuck you want.”
With that, he stormed out and realized he hadn’t left his complicated feelings behind.
6
Damn sure he’d walked ten miles around the area, Kicks finally got back to the house as the sun was dipping lower on the horizon. The winter sun worked in their favor, meaning they could get on the road a lot earlier, and so far, he hadn’t seen a single shred of evidence that they’d been followed.