He drifted off into the space of his own thoughts and I couldn’t help feeling jealously over a person I didn’t even know. Someone who’d earned Jude’s love. What in the hell would that feel like?

There were several long minutes of silence, where the only sound was the tattoo machine. Jude’s gaze was focused on me nearly the entire time and I was getting used to his examination. Thought I’d love to know what he saw. I hadn’t worn my hat today but I wouldn’t admit that it was because he said he liked my hair.

The tree on his back was turning into a haunting thing of beauty. With the fresh ink, you’d be hard-pressed to notice his scars, though if you looked closely enough, you’d still be able to see the fleshy raised parts of some of them.

As Jude dozed, I couldn’t help thinking about his stepfather and what exactly he’d done to Jude. I wanted to cut off his balls and feed them to him for breakfast.

I covered up my dark thoughts with a cough and one of Jude’s eyes blinked open. He studied me a brief moment before sliding his eyes shut.

“These scars I’m covering,” I asked after another minute. “They from the person you’re trying to escape? Your stepfather?”

His eyes flashed open and widened, but there was no response.

“True or false?” I said, my voice willing him to respond so I could finally understand. Finally build a bridge between us.

Again, no reply. He stared intently and I saw the answer reflected plainly in his eyes. He couldn’t deny it.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” I asked the silence.

“Some kind of danger?” I whispered to the air.

He gave an imperceptible nod of his head.

Fuck, did it have to do with the Disciples?

“I wish to hell you would just tell me,” I said, feeling exasperated and discouraged all at once. “I won’t betray your trust.”

Silence.

And then I’d had enough.

I turned off the machine, cleaned and bandaged the tattoo area, and began cleaning up.

He sat up and I could feel his gaze on me.

“What?” I said, pitching a plastic covering in the trash. “Just say it.”

“It’s not about trust,” he mumbled. “He’s a dangerous man. Ruined my life. I don’t . . .”

“You don’t what?” I said, so frustrated I could roar. I stood up and paced the room as he pulled on his shirt and reached for his backpack.

“You don’t what? Want this? Want me?” I finally said, stopping in front of him. My heart banged around in my chest, terrified of his answer. “Isn’t that what all of your silence comes down to? You don’t want me enough to share yourself with me?”

“Bloody hell, I’m not trying to be a wanker. I want you, Cory Easton. More than anyone ever before,” he said and I sucked in a harsh breath because he actually admitted to how he felt about me straight on. “I just can’t have you.”

“Fuck. You can’t pretend not to feel, Jude,” I said, my fist pounding my chest as he inched toward the door. “Because longing for somebody is that much worse.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to gape at me. There was so much anguish and hunger and defeat in his eyes. It sliced at my gut but I held my composure until he walked out of the room.

Chapter Fifteen

I met Emmy at the animal shelter and after feeding and grooming some of the dogs, we grabbed the leashes to take them for a walk. We planned on trying out the brand-new dog park that Emmy worked tirelessly to help open. It was essentially a fenced-in grassy field in a section of Washington Park, but the dogs were allowed off leash there. The idea was that they could roam free along with other dogs.

“Patch will find another family,” I said as we hit the pavement heading east.

“Whatever,” she said, more grumbly than usual.

“Maybe if you change his name, he’ll get more interest,” I said in my usual teasing tone.

“Shut it,” she said, bumping my hip playfully and adjusting her hold on the three leashes.

Apparently the family who’d visited Patch a couple of times and thought that they might adopt him had changed their mind. It happened sometimes after a potential owner realized just how much work it entailed to care for a pet. Which was why the shelter had a strict policy of pre-visits that a family needed to fulfill before they could officially take a dog home.

But I think Emmy was secretly relieved that the family didn’t take Patch, even though I knew she’d feel guilty about that. She still held out hope that she’d own him one day.

“You sure you didn’t want to ask Tristan to walk with you?”

A pink hue travelled across Emmy’s cheeks as she shook her head.

“You should just invite him somewhere,” I said. “Maybe up to the bar on Thursdays.”

“He’s my boss,” she said as if the idea was positively scandalous.

“Honey, you’re a volunteer at an animal shelter. It’s not like he’s signing your paycheck,” I said, adjusting my grip on the leads. “Besides, you’re an adult. A gorgeous woman. And a woman he definitely notices.”

“How do you know that?” she said as we hit the pavement.

“I might be a gay guy, but I’m still a guy,” I said, walking behind her so that the dogs could spread across the sidewalk. “And I know when a man is sniffing around a woman.”

Emmy dipped her head and hid her smile.